The world moons yet once again at Marion Gordon "Pat" Robertson's latest struggle with sanity. The vile, mendacious servant of the Antichrist made headlines this time for passing on a divine warning to the good folks of Dover, PA, who finally came to their senses and got rid of the oxy-addled hucksters who have been poisoning the minds of the schoolchildren with their nonsensical babble.
I do not understand why, any time the MSM has to allow the mention of Marion's foul name to escape their besmirched collective lips, that they can't fill us in on some of the more relevant details about this piece of shit.
Robertson is true to Christ's core principles about as much as George W. Bush is. Marion's god is a spiteful, vengeful, petulant deity, interested more in punishing willful humans with deadly natural disasters and tragic circumstances, than in enabling them to see whatever light Robertson seems to think we're supposed to see. In other words, Marion's god is not much unlike Marion himself. Quite a coinkydink, doncha think? Robertson's true god is pelf.
Robertson has famously been a friend and business investor of murderous African dictators like Mobutu Sese Seko and Liberia's Charles Taylor, mining for diamonds and gold -- for Jeebus, of course. Robertson has also been something of a fabulist in describing his own backstory, referring to himself as a "combat Marine" during his 1988 tilt at the presidential windmill, when in fact he was little more than a senator's son kept out of harm's way by being given the hazardous duty of supplying the actual combat infantrymen with their daily ration of booze. We spent the last two presidential campaigns inanely arguing over whether the Democratic candidates were really in Cambodia for Christmas, or had Mickey Spillane duty in the rear with the gear, so we can certainly go after Marion. It is simply unforgivable to stand on the corpses of fellow Marines and pretend you were in the trenches with them, when you were really just a punk NCO with a pud job.
Now, as to more timely and relevant tactics, if I were an op of the Democratic Party right now, I would look around at the political landscape and get an enormous woody. Bush's popularity is in free-fall, even as he stubbornly insists of repeating old speeches practically verbatim. Schwarzenegger's once-rising star was unceremoniously extinguished here in Gullyvornia last week, and the hand he now proffers should draw back a stump shortly. (And really, should it be any other way? Anyone out there think that if even one of his stupid initiatives had passed by a 50.1-49.9% margin, that jackass would ever stop crowing about how the people had spoken? Well, they spoke, asshole, and they said to fuck off. So fuck off already, sport.)
And the "intelligent design" "debate" is just the latest front in the ongoing culture war, and the retards are on their heels. Because the current crop of Democrats seems to prefer playing by the Marquess of Queensberry rules, they'll be allowed to regain their balance.
Me, I prefer Mike Tyson rules -- take a chunk out of their ears, threaten their relatives, promise to fuck them till they love you. And I think a great place to start is with ol' Marion there. Does he or does he not speak for mainstream Republicans, the question should be posed. This overripe wedge issue needs to be driven home with a vengeance, and put out to pasture once and for all. Hang this asshole around Bush's neck, along with Bush's other manifold failures. It's crucial, because this is the stalking-horse issue for the extra-chromosome vote the Bushrovians cater to so overtly. Well, you want 'em, you got 'em, boys -- fleas and all. The rest of us will be over here, paying through the nose for gas (it's going back up soon enough; the only reason it's "low" right now is because the Euros are helping out, and the oil company CEOs are doing their dog-and-pony show for Congress) and wondering why Iraq is even worse than back when the mission was first accomplished.
I know the Dems are supposed to be trying out their new evangitard outreach, learning to speak in tongues and all that, but fuck it. I want to know what sort of numb fuck is still part of Marion Robertson's demographic -- not to try to make them Democrats, but to further marginalize them. These morons are on the fringe already; might as well push 'em further out into the sunlight. You think you're getting away with this crazy shit sotto voce, you got another think coming.
Forcing the Republicans to either own or disavow Robertson will pay dividends, no matter which way they go on it. Allowing them to pretend that he's just a harmless non-partisan apolitical weirdo is disingenuous and inexcusable. He's been nothing short of the point man in reliably gathering the faithful to the polls for the GOP. Time to make them answer for it.
The ancillary benefit of this will be to drive a wedge into Christians themselves -- and it's high time they were forced to decide whether they want to be New Testament love/forgiveness/compassion Christians, or Old Testament smiting and vengeance zealots, ready to strap their oldest to a pile of wood and carve his heart out because the voices in their head want to test their faith. It's time they too were forced to choose, and let the rest of us heathens know just where they stand.
3 comments:
over from atrios-- i believe this is called a smackdown, whether by the marquess' rules or mike's...and would that it go from your page to dem strategist's ears... but we all know it won't. randi was at her best yesterday about this demagogue.
"Pat" Robertson's gospel is very simple--it's the gospel according to St. Benjamin. That is, it's all about the Benjamins. Baby.
Rightous, Heywood. By their furuitcakes ye shall know them.
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