PECK, PECK... SQUAWK!

SAVE AS FAVORITE

VIEW FAVORITES

By Rip Rense (about the author) Page 1 of 3 page(s)

opednews.com Permalink

For OpEdNews: Rip Rense - Writer

Many years ago, a doctor grabbed my testicles, squeezed with all his might, and jabbed a needle into the left one. True story. (There was some fluid that needed "aspirating.")

"You are going to feel some discomfort," the doctor said beforehand.

And this atomic bomb is going to hurt a little bit, Hiroshima.

I essentially levitated. My whole body spontaneously rose off the examining table. I called out enthusiastically for Jesus Christ, but as usual, he didn't show. I stopped just short of throttling that doctor. When I eventually left the office, the people in the waiting room stared at me, wide-eyed.

I feel worse than this every time I see Sarah Palin.

My car once accidentally brushed against the side mirror of a car next to me, on a street in Taiwan. The occupants of the other car---gang punks, it turned out---chased me to a stoplight, got out, and proceeded to kick (that's correct, kick) me and my former wife. One kick instantly stopped my right arm from functioning, and I could do nothing but yell for help until, luckily, cops came running. (To ask, "Why didn't you fight back?")

I feel worse than this every time I see Sarah Palin.

I once had a barium enema.

I feel worse than this ever time I see Sarah Palin.

Sarah Palin is like something that hides in the closet in a Three Stooges movie. She is Nurse Ratchett, Madame LaFarge (with less ethics), Heather Mills. She is Hillary without a brain, Madonna without producers. With tattooed lips, bared teeth, plumage hair, she is like some strange half-bird, half-woman predator in a dream, who shows up each night to peck at my liver the way that vulture did to Prometheus. Squawking, smiling, pecking, never blinking those framed, painted Pat Collins hypnotic eyeballs. Peck peck. Squawk. Smile. Doggone it! Peck. Smile. Say it ain't so, Joe! Awk! Peck peck.

I hereby declare the following with no more hesitation than she felt when accepting the vice-presidential offer: Sarah Palin is the greatest threat in the world to the United States, with the possible exception of terrorists with nuclear weapons. Possible exception.

Words fail me. This is a blue-ice-cold, megalomaniacal demon virago fit for a Stephen King novel. The female equivalent of Martin Sheen's character in "The Dead Zone." You can see that frozen beauty queen grin and hear that just-plain-folks chirp when she proclaims, "The missiles are flying. Hallelujah." Of course, she would probably add something like, "Moholakashaka voogoodoogoo."

Palin is further proof that the ills of mankind can primarily be attributed to excessive amounts of sexual intercourse. Miss Congeniality? Miss Congenital Vanity. She stunningly combines the two most impoverished of all human qualities: ignorance, and arrogance. If she were a plant, she'd be crabgrass. She will do or say anything to acquire power, then guard it like, yes, a pit bull (with lipstick). She is a self-reward machine. Period. (And given the behavior of her children, one hopes that hers will stop soon.)

Consider Palin's repeated remarks about how Sen. Barack Obama is "pallin' around with terrorists." Yow. Take a giant step back for a second. The Republican vice-presidential candidate has just implicitly accused a United States senator and Democratic presidential candidate of supporting anti-American terrorism. There's no other way to read it. Imagine that. The audacity, the irresponsibility. What sane person would believe such a thing?

Of course, linking voters with sanity is like shoveling smoke with a pitchfork in the wind.

1 | 2 | 3