Friday, September 30, 2005

Hillary Recieves Another Letter From Screwtape

L.S. Screwtape
Prince of Hell,

September 29th, 2005

My Dearest Hillary,

Refrain from chastising me, errant one. I fully understand the risk of having the federal courts start acting up as we sit on the cusp of the next Supreme Court nomination. The DeLay indictment and that sanctimoniously-lathered Abu Ghraib ruling are timed in a fashion not unlike that of the coordinated bombing attacks in London. And we have the same apologists working for us as they have working for them.

Sure, they could backfire. We could get Janice Rogers Brown. I will accept the responsibility if—that happens. My hope is that Bush will defer to his “compassionate” side and appoint William Kuntsler* to the bench.

I’m not going to keep telling you. Keep that mouth of yours shut. That voice, good grief, woman, that cacophonous clatter that emanates from anything above fifteen decibels is killing all of us. There isn’t an stem cell alive that can regenerate your dulcet tones to a point that I don’t want to go rooftop with an automatic weapon every time you decide to wax passionate with an SM58 beta mic or a neighborhood megaphone.

At least I’ve got the media on board. I don’t even have to work at it with them. It’s truly like they have my heart—my very blood flowing through their veins. And I happen to be proud of the vacuous, empty veneer of purity which I have attributed to journalists—when in reality—they are the absolute gold standard of the mantle-piercing, subterranean strata of cowardice ever witnessed by our Enemy above.

By the way, abortions are down. Thus, so are feminist baptisms by immersion.

Speaking of which, did I not tell you that my ability to obfuscate has not been sullied by time? I speak primarily, of course of the “partial birth” procedure, of which I am proud—even if I am shocked at my own brazenness. I have actually leveled the argument that there exists an unnamed malady, that—if a baby is not delivered breach save for the head, an incision made at the base of the skull, and the brains literally vacuumed out—that a mother could actually die of this dread, unexplainable disease.

Yet, surgical procedures in general remain demystified, with little or no disturbing contrast in argument: Appendicitis? Easily ameliorated by the removal of the appendix proper. A cancerous tumor requires immediate attention of the same order. Even gargantuan benignities can be life threatening without a simple incision and evacuation measure. Yet, the federal courts have gone the extra mile to build a hedge about the woman whose very life-blood “depends” upon the death of her third-trimester child—that there may be a conflict between a mother’s ability to live and the choice to lay the scalpel at the umbilical cord instead.

See? I am good. Tom DeLay is only the beginning of sorrows for those poltroons in the Republican Party. I just don’t think they have the fight in them.

Your affectionate mentor,


* My bad. William Kuntsler became a good Democrat in 1995. Who do you think I am, God?

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