With all the bad news recently, I could not help but affirm my belief in a benevolent deity with the receipt of the happy news yesterday of the passing of anti-American traitor and all-around communist douchebag Tom Hayden. It's just a pity he didn't catch a 750 pounder from a B-52 fifty years ago while giving aid and comfort to North Vietnam, but we'll settle for yesterday's ticket-punching as better late than never.
One of the original Chicago Eight, manifesto writer for the SDS, former state representative of the People's Republic of Santa Monica, and one of the former spouses of Queen Douchebagette Jane Fonda, the loss to civilization of this leftist festering carbuncle on the ass of humanity is so negligible that it cannot be measured with existing instrumentation.
But the unexpected arrival of his final departure is hopefully a harbinger of the eventual (and imminent, with any luck at all) demise of Hanoi Jane herself. As we have already set aside funds sufficient to visit Comrade Fonda's final resting place, with a view to leaving something memorable on that future site that won't be mistaken for flowers, we think it only fitting to help water the grass on Hayden's gravesite at the next opportunity as well, if only out of fair play and equality. After all, there's a drought hereabouts, and anything we can do to help settle the soil and keep Zombie Tom from breaking out of his dirt napping site seems a worthy cause.
Alas, we will be unable to attend the funeral for Comrade Hayden, but rest assured that a note will be sent along expressing our entire approval of it coming to pass.
And I'll raise a glass to the old bastard, certainly roasting in brimstone, if only to load my bladder for a future visit to his final earthly address. Like most giant turds, his passing ought to leave people with nothing so much as relief and contentment.
I for one am torn.
ReplyDeleteDo I toast it with cheap stuff or break open something nice?
Because toasting a Dead Red, especially one of these guys, is tempting.
Maybe one of each, just to be sure.
One would only hope that his passing was long and painful. As Mr. Clemons noted years agone, "I've never wished anyone dead, but I have read a number of obituaries with great approval."
ReplyDeleteLong ago, when I worked in Aerospace, there was a slightly older engineer there who kept a picture of Hanoi Jane on his desk, the one where she is sitting in an Anti-aircraft gun seat with a helmet on her empty head. My co-worker/friend's caption for the picture was, "I'm not fonda Jane." I've lost contact with him, but I hope he is still among the living now, and will continue to be until Hanoi Jane is not.
ReplyDeleteWhere is the old traitor to be buried, anyway? I think it's appropriate to pay him a visit six months or so after his interment.
As to alcoholic anointment for his grave, If it's going into my gut first, I'm drinking the good stuff, especially if I'm going to anoint his grave with the good stuff.
It's only fair that I filter it through my kidneys first, you see.