"We had Twain. We had Mencken. We had Pegler. And now we have Rush."
Ah, yes, how I do yearn for the era of Westbrook Pegler, even though he married a woman from Tennessee who was of the Hebrewish persuasion. Nevertheless, Westy exhibited a certain...a certain...well, let's just call it je ne sais quois, shall we, for time, tide, and the Internet wait for no man (or mannish woman, womanly man, man-woman, woman-man, transgendered hooter bearer or reasonably attractive simian or fetching barnyard animal).
Yes, Westy, what a mensch (and he could be so described for he had been sexually initiated into the Tribe, so to speak, having wedded and bedded the Jewess from Down South). It was Westy, you will no doubt remember, who upoon being informed that the mongrel Giuseppe Zangara, while attempting to shoot Franklin Delano Roosevelt (who was not, apparently, either a Jew or a Negro) killed the mayor of Chicago insted, remarked that Zangara "hit the wrong man." Such a wordsmith, old Westy. Nor should be fail to recall Westy's words about Robert F. Kennedy two years after his brother John was gunned down in Dallas: "Some white pagtirot of the Southern tier will spatter his spononful of brains in public premises before the snow flies." But it was a Palestinian, no doubt related howerver distantly to the current Koranic worshiping president-elect, who done that boy in.
So, as I say, we had our Mark Twain, our H.L. Mencken, our Westbrook Pegler, our Rush Limbaugh, but please let us never forget our Rudolph Dirks whose Katzenjammer Kids still tightens my ballsack whenever I by happenstance run across them while making my way through the towers of ancient newspapers that fill my abode while moving toward teh trap door under which is the room wherein the love of my life crouches, chained to iron ring pounded deep into the floor. But, ho! what am I thinking? For I have left out Theodore Geisel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss.
(To Be Continued)
~Raymond J. "Ya Doesn't Hafta Call Me Johnson" Johnson
