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Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Unteroffizier Behar

I feel liberated. How about you?

I'M BACK. Once again, we see why I'm needed. [Go screw yourself, InstaPunk.] This Behar bitch isn't a loose cannon. She's a useful idiot, which the left has always utilized abundantly. Any political movement that builds its platfom on the assumption that it is intellectually superior to all its opponents operates according to the rules of high society. There's an in-crowd so lofty that all the hangers-on are willing to do anything to impress, always hoping for the glamorous invite. (One reason the Hollywood set fits in perfectly.) The hierarchy is so well established that the peons expect to be sacrificed from time to time and experience no resentment when they are.

So Joy Behar is a sacrifice. She's an absolute nothing in liberal society, a D-class celebrity with zero accomplishments in the world of intellect or politics. Just a loud-mouthed comedian on the lowest scale of humor -- a self-caricature whose punchlines all depend on the stereotypes of her sex, station, and ethnicity. A dead typical female stand-up, as predictable as she is hackneyed and obnoxious. An Italian version of her equally rude Irish counterpart, Kathy Griffin. Both of them share the neurotic self-awareness that despite their unending ambition to be admired, the sad truth is that deep down, no matter how much they set store by their own wit, they themselves are the butt of their own jokes, pitiful, ridiculous, and flatly unlikeable people whose need for attention trumps even their own human dignity. Untouchables. (Cue laughtrack.)


The View is a neat metaphor for the social caste system I'm describing. Barbara Walters owns the show. It doesn't matter how thoroughly she enters into the byplay with Joy and the trailer-dyke Rosie O'Donnell. She has the infinite freedom of the quality slumming with the help. With a nod or a curled lip, she can set her clowns loose to wreak havoc or incinerate them in their tracks. This past week, she gave an infinitesimal nod to Behar that granted permission to accuse Republicans of causing Senator Tim Johnson's stroke and then to compare Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld to Hitler. Walters's motive? Very much like that of the Zulu chiefs who sent warriors up to the British lines to be shot down like dogs. By doing so, the Zulu lords learned the range of the British guns. Barbara is learning what libs can get away with in the new political season.

Apparently, the experiment was a marginal success in the eyes of the liberal nobility, despite some boos from the audience. No one produced a noose the way they would have if Elizabeth Hasselbeck had compared Cindy Sheehan to a fascisti collaborator. As a result, Behar was not disciplined for accusing Republicans of Putin-like assault tactics. She wasn't compelled to apologize for being a grossly slanderous low-class shrew about Rumsfeld; she was allowed to offer a lame explanation that she was only making a joke, because isn't it really funny to compare a Republican retiring from 35 years of government service to the most frighteningly evil dictator in recorded human history? Of course it is. It's a hoot.

Me, I'm happy. I'm celebrating with the graphic above. InstaPunk took a lot of grief for posting a photo of that Nazi bastard Pat Buchanan in an S.S. uniform. I thought IP should have done it again, and again, just to drive home the point that Buchanan is a Jew-hating Nazi bastard. But I got overruled.

Now I've been vindicated by the most illustrious grande dame of political society. According to Barbara Walters, I have carte blanche to depict Joy Behar as a Nazi dominatrix, just because her politics are different from mine. That is just so cool. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Baba Wawa. You're my idol, my ice queen, my punk babe of the week, and my future sex-slave. Consider yourself complimented.

Sieg heil, Behar bitch. How do you like it? Is it just another joke when you're the one wearing the swastika? Of course it is.

If I'd had more time, I'd have shopped Barbara Walters into a leather and latex nightmare too. But I'll leave that for another day. Maybe the next time Unteroffizier Behar follows orders without question.

P.S. And if there's anything you don't like about this post, stuff it. Remember, I'm the Time Person of the Year, every bit as great as you are. Don't you forget it.

One more thing. Mrs. Wuzzadem hit a grand slam this week. Read this all the way through.







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