Vote, Forrest, Vote!

Thanks to Bob Cesca, spittle-flecked, cretinous moorlock/blogger for The Huffington Post, I now know what I must do. I must join ACORN and acquire the right to vote seventeen times in next Tuesday’s election. Then, I must cast my multiple ballots, and Rocky’s and Bullwinkle’s multiple ballots as well, on behalf of Sarah Palin.

Coincidentally, that’ll help some guy named McCain. But then again, a great Democrat President, who would never win the nomination in today’s version of his party, did once opine that a rising tide does lift all boats.

So anyhow, this troglodytic, glow-in-the dark perversion tool, Bob Cesca wants America to be warned about the type of people who support Sarah Palin. The screed below perhaps typifies why Huffington Post contributers stab their significant others 200 times with the screwdriver, when once or twice will generally finish the job.

[T]he schadenfreude and the hilariously inexplicable interviews are merely distractions from the truly awful things that Sarah Palin represents.

God, America and Apple-Pie – The Horror! I guess Bob Cesca must have an allergy to fresh fruits. Perhaps they make his gall bladder produce an overload of bile.

I’ve seriously had enough of the winking, the giant-chinned-smirking, the too-sibilant forks-on-a-chalkboard “s” sounds, the “nookyooler,” the “you betchas,” and especially her Romper Room-like penchant for naming and labeling everyone in her audiences: “Romper bomper stomper boo, tell me, tell me, tell me, do! I see Joe the Plumber, Roscoe the Racist, Zed the Gimp…”

Bob Cesca feels left out. Sarah didn’t mention Cesca the Cist, or Bob the Blowhard. He works hard to produce this much venom and ill-will, but No! Sarah Palin won’t pay attention to him. He isn’t special enough.

[T]he only thing that’s actually working for the McCain campaign is the daily inciting of rage, fear and hatred among the easily-led gomers lined up outside of Sarah Palin’s rallies.

The one thing that appears to be working nicely for Sarah Palin and John McCain right now is the really evil and divisive stuff.

Well Gaw-lee, Sergeant Carter! We’re supposed to enjoy having Barney Frank nuke our 401ks? I mean there’s just something poetic about spreading the wealth from Zed the Gimp to Guido the Killer Pimp. As Huey the Kingfish, an old Democrat much more in line with the modern “progressive” zeitgeist would have opined.

“Hard work is damned near as overrated as monogamy.”

But we cast our gazes back to the lovable, tolerant progressives of today. Cesca hasn’t finished maundering yet.

[W]e simply can’t allow Sarah Palin’s fear-mongering — her Neo-McCarthyism and her Neo-Southern Strategy — to ultimately be the one successful thing about this otherwise laughable McCain campaign.

It’s not so much that I’m looking forward to the end of the red scare hysteria she’s whipping up when she tells her Audience the Stupid that somehow a vote for the Democratic ticket is a vote for communism. More than Palin herself, I’m looking forward to the end of an era in which the aforementioned gomers — these relatively small pockets of bigots and witch hunters — have enjoyed undeserved attention and disproportionate sway over American politics and policy.

Cesca wishes we could return to how Democrats used to run elections down South. He pines for the days of yore, under the Good, old Southern strategy. We could force all the gomers to apply for expensive witch-hunting licenses and guess how many jelly beans were in the cute little jar before we sent them to the wrong polling station, and didn’t count their votes anyway.

A stoned rant this good deserves a ringing conclusion. Something to really nail the deal shut, before the creative effects from the speedball totally wear off. Here’s how Bob Cesca finishes forgetting to listen to the prozac.

In other words, it’s the ignorance, stupid. And next Tuesday, we have a chance to seriously marginalize this darker, uglier side of America.

[W]e have no choice but to show up en masse and unequivocally reject Republicans like Sarah Palin — hurling them onto the slagheap of history. There are a lot of things to ridicule about Sarah Palin’s incomprehensible speaking style, her pathological dishonesty and her backwards, simplistic views on the issues.

So after a long, hard day of dragging my knuckles on the ground and pulling the hardwood splinters out of my fingers, I can only say one thing. If we don’t want to spend the next eight years listening while guys like this actually tell us how to order every aspect of our existences, “Vote, Forrest, Vote!”