An Unfamiliar Feeling

As previously mentioned, my taste in women is superb and my ladyfriend standards, incredibly high. Many agree that I have a noticeable talent for selecting only the cream-of-the-crop females to be in my life. While I recognize tendencies amongst some women to be competitive with one another, I always marvel at my opposing urge to protect them.

Most of the time, these bad ass ladies don't need my protection but I like to stand guard at all times just the same. The offense could be anything - bad bosses, neglectful boyfriends, rude waiters or an accidental splashing of mud but in a society that often lacks chivalry, I try to fill a gap somehow. Hear me now - my allegiance to the sisterhood is strong.

Which is why I find it so alarming that I would like to beat the highlights out of conservative supermouth, Ann Coulter. I'm not sure which upsets me more, that she exists and is famous or that she – a woman! – inspires within me such a violent reaction. More specifically, a longing desire to run her over with a Hummer and then set them both aflame. (This fantasy also involves me simultaneously smoking a giant spliff and wearing nothing but an American flag but that's for my therapist to ponder.) This is the kind of reaction that Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity could only dream about fearing from me.

Honestly, I could snap that spindly bitch in half in 10 seconds flat only to be dragged away in whistling "Yankee Doodle Dandy" and consider my life completely fulfilled.

Y'see what I mean? This ugly side of me gets stirred up every time she spits out something particularly vulgar, such as her recent usage of the word "faggot" to describe John Edwards. (Mind you, this is in no defense of Edwards, who promptly used the ensuring media frenzy to his fundraising advantage.) Honestly, I can't help myself when it comes that hateful skanky witch, I just go ballistic. It's not healthy. She makes me want to grow my nails long specifically to claw her eyes out when normally a cat fight is my personal idea of hell. I recently told a friend, "If we ever get in a fight, I would just apologize and give in immediately, whether I was right or not. I don't like fighting with women."

Could it be that I am confused within myself because I hold the female gender is such high regard and this hair-flipping cunt-face is not worthy to own ovaries? It is not because we disagree, there are women in my life who are conservatives, staunch Republicans, born-again Christians, dedicated Catholics and a bunch of other things that I reject or can't relate to but that never gets in the way of me loving them. We may argue or debate but I never feel a desire to chop all their hair off and stuff it into their mouths until they suffocate. Nor do I entertain fantasies of kidnapping them and dressing them up in a Las Vegas showgirl costume and dropping them inside Mecca during hajj. I'm just not that kind of girl - I support slumber parties , giggling and clothing exchanges. So why instead do I imaagine AC's slow death by a thousand-State-Department-press-release-paper-cuts-followed-by-a-
pineapple-juice-bath? Otherwise, I'm quite loving. No, really.

Oh, dear. I just realized that I may, indeed, need to seek counseling for this. While my hatred for Dick Cheney is widely known (still gunning for my own FBI folder), I try to refrain from wishing him stone cold dead. Mind you, I have certainly wished painful ass boils on his physical being but nothing life threatening. I feel like it may not be good karma, no matter how much that scheming motherfucker deserves it.

This loathesome whore, however, is a different story. Not only do I envision a time when the world is blissfully Ann Coulter-free, I also imagine the long process of her painful demise. Perhaps a public bleacher set up and maybe some high-grade explosives? Some tar and feathers just to get the party started?

See, now what is THAT? Oh, how the bile rises within me whenever her pond scum-self reappears. My ugliness ends up matching hers and then, we are left with zero, are we not?

On the world/political stage, men will be dicks - that's just what they do. They start wars, they build bombs, the become dictators, they proliferate stupidity, etc. (Personally, however, I still think they are swell and couldn't live without them.) Within the Congress, the Senate and any other legislature throughout the world, plenty of folks - both male and female – make bad decision, the wrong choices, say hurtful things. Ladies such as Karen Hughes, Condi Rice and even Laura "The First Fembot" Bush draw my ire, make me roll my eyes, piss me off and so on but I would NEVER wish these women any harm. Furthermore, I have some begrudging respect for what each one does even though it is about 180 degrees from where I stand.

Ann, however, serves no purpose other than to spew ugliness, flip her idiot head and pretend she's Sharon Stone in "Basic Instinct." Quite frankly, my own anger towards another woman scares me half to death but she makes Barbara Bush, the biggest Mama Bear Bitch to ever open her mouth, seem downright cuddly.

I can only conclude that Ann is not only NOT a female but, in fact, not human at all. She is made up of twigs, stretched leather, a bad wig and dentures all enhanced by a 45nm processing chip that is programmed to simulate human behavior. (Has anyone checked her birth certificate? Does it say "Birthplace: Fourth Rock from the Sun"?)

So … stay with me now … the words and movements of this crazy ugly alien and/or robot are controlled remotely by an evil scientist who wants to take over the world or start WWIII or some crazy shit like that … and he sits at a desk in a New Mexico underground compound eating Hot Pockets and Red Bull …and laughing to himself about easy it is to stir the pot of normally level-headed folks and make them turn on each other. In the movie version, he would undoubtedly be played by Dennis Hopper.

Whew. Okay, I'm going to buy into this for the good of womankind. Let's hope it sticks. Speaking of sticking, I could always invest in this … I've got a box of pins around here somewhere …