July 04, 2008
Living Dead (Three)
John Polidori’s villainous vampire, Lord Ruthven, was the basic archetype for the BLOODSUCKER administration as a whole, the lousy COCKSUCKERS! But Darth Cheney in particular took the cake. He was furnished with every one of the SCUMBAG’s most outlandish evil attributes. Totally distracted, he didn’t speak to you as much as he made statements, and if you were stupid enough to answer, you invariably ended up talking to the back of his head. The Democrats were hushed when he entered the room, like some forgotten tropical parasite wrapped around their spines after an eternity of dormant sleep had just awakened and constricted with fear. “Those who felt this sensation of awe,” Polidori wrote of Ruthven, “Could not explain whence it arose: some attributed it to the dead gray eyes, which, fixing upon the object’s face did not seem to penetrate, and at one glance to pierce through to the inner workings of the heart; but fell upon the cheek with a leaden ray that weighed upon the skin it could not pass.” Ruthven was: “A man entirely absorbed in himself, who gave few other examples of his observation of other objects, than a tacit acceptance of their existence, implied by the avoidance of their contact.” And exactly the same could be said for Darth Cheney. They even shared the same caprice of cruelty. Polidori’s vampire is a man of misbegotten means who the needy constantly beg for alms, but he goes out of his way to scorn and embarrass those with the best intentions, or the most earnest need for the money, while he lavishes his gold coins on the most odious unrepentant common criminals. No subtlety of interiority got in the way of nastiness. Like Ruthven, the Vice President was dead to affection, and, to borrow a couple more phrases from Polidori, as “unconscious to pain,” as he was to “objects around him,” and nothing but gore and murder raged in his SICK COCKSUCKER brain when he entered the House Speaker’s chamber like some rabid automaton. For a moment they just looked at each other, then Nancy Pelosi’s white hand was finally mechanically extended to him. You could see the SCUMBAG shake with wild maniac frenzy as he reached his arms out and grabbed the Congresswoman by the throat! But that wasn’t nearly the worst part. No, the worst part was the mocking shriek let out by the House Speaker. “He grabbed me, he grabbed at me, and tore at me, he tore at my clothes!” she sarcastically screamed, just like the shocked and hysterical Barbara who has just seen her brother eaten alive by zombies in George Romero’s classic Night of the Living Dead (1968). Then she went as still as the Vice President, like someone had mistakenly pulled the plug on both of them. That’s when the Senate Majority Leader came into the picture, like some kind’a PINKO-COMMIE-FAIRY, dressed in little girl drag, the FREAK hummed some Tubeway Army song under his breath. Darth Cheney lunged for Pelosi again, his hands clutching her thin neck in a looped deadly embrace that always ended with her crying, “He grabbed me, he grabbed at me, and tore at me, he tore at my clothes,” and, after a short pause, start right up again from the beginning, like the busted electronic mind behind the whole GOD DAMN thing got hopelessly stuck and could only repeat the same IDEOTIC fragmented sequence over and over again. “Can you see her little eyes?” the Majority Leader sang more loudly then and fixed his wig. “Can you see her little hands? Don’t you think she looks just like me? Can you hear her little scream? Can you hear her little cry? Don’t you think she sounds just like me?”