I grabbed my long handled flashlight and ducked into Caldwell’s Crawlspace. As expected, his homage to Paleolithic cave paintings was just another caterwaul down Sore Loser Lane: Self reflection is not his forte. Because I have better things to do than teach a stone to speak, I won’t squander my pre-Alzheimer cocktail time engaged in fruitless debate with someone who displays the symptoms of severe Attention Deficit Disorder. A cruel bastard, I do have droplets of common decency left over from my brief stint in the Peace Corps, so I won’t mention Hollerin’ Joe Wilson‘s association with the Sons of Confederate Veterans. (Even though the villagers never experienced the thrill of flush toilets, I left the Kangamora Tribe feeling better about themselves, secure in the knowledge that some white men can’t find their ass with both hands or keep their pants dry after a surprise machete hazing. I’ll always remember how their laughter mingled with my screams after yet another language miscue found me volunteering to separate mating baboons).
I guess a black Marxist, Communist, fascist, Kenyan/Indonesian community organizing Messiah scares the holy shit out of Caldwell and his tea bagging confederates. Good thing Glenn Beck is on the ball.
By the way, Joe Wilson has taxpayer funded health-care, courtesy of Uncle Sam. I feel warm all over knowing that I’m helping provide the prick with weekly prostate exams.
Juan Don
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