Maureen Dowd Strikes Again

Still Looking !
As we here at the 'Wonks pointed out earlier this week, New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd has some problems (or "issues," for all you P.C. types out there) that need to be addressed. In her earlier column rant, Maureen expresses extreme bitterness toward the male of the species for failing to be grateful for all the carefully chosen and lovingly given presents that she had bought various boyfriends during the past year. Writing from a feminine perspective, Moxie posits that Maureen has a problem with Jesus because he is a man.

She did, however, reserve some angst for the women that her ex-boyfriends left her for.

Acting on a comment by the Pirate in the above referenced post, (Namely, that someone needed to "take one for the team.") Jeff, over at Beautiful Atrocities, offered to help Maureen with her frustrations by marrying her.

So that only one individual would need to make the supreme sacrifice on behalf of a grateful nation, The Pirate urged men, women, or whatever to "step up" and apply in order to see who would be the worthy unfortunate individual that would do what needs to be done.

However, time has run out and Maureen has struck again.

Maureen Dowd's latest diatribe manages to sneer at both Christmas and the War On Terror. Our eastern-establishment-limousine-liberal-hypocrat has now written a little poem. (It can be surmised that it is meant to be sung, chanted, or recited to the tune of the Twelve Days Of Christmas.") In the case of MoDo, we are fairly certain that it is screeched.

The 12 Days of Rummying
On the first day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me a Saddam pigeon in a palm tree. Not knowing Osama's address,Rummy hastened to 'Potamia - and a mess, exhorting his pal Cheney,"Let's bomb Baghdad again, golly gee!"

On the second day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me two dead-ender turtle doves(Colin and Kofi), flowers and chocolates from the ninny Chalabi, and a billion Arabs mad at me.

On the third day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me: three French hen peckers and imaginary W.M.D. And 300 tons of lost explosives going BOOM! everywhere. Rummy tried for a Vin Diesel movie, when he should have heeded General Shinseki.

On the fourth day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me four cuckoo birds - Wolfie, Perle, Feith and Condi. The cost of empire on the cheap will be steep. How did Rummy get a job guarantee?

On the fifth day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me five Pentagon rings. Rummy wanted to go down in historyby transforming the military. But many G.I.'s feel cheated, that their forces and matériel are depleted. Stop Loss and Stuff Happens, by Jiminy!

On the sixth day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me six German shepherds teeth a-baring. A hooded man attached to wires, Abu Ghraib and Army liars, Red Cross in the darkabout dogs that liked to bark.

On the seventh day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me regime change that wasn't free, our troops sitting ducks for I.E.D.(Improvised Explosive Devices, dear me) Rummy is another sort of I.E.D.(Instant Excuses for Disaster,"I'm an old man, don't you see?")

On the eighth day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me eight Osama videotapes. The Bushie fever with Saddam left Osama free to scram. Invading Iraq was an Xmas gift for bin Laden - a recruiting lift.

On the ninth day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me Iran and North Korea on a nuclear buildup spree. Nine mullahs a-proliferating, as our military's straining. The Bushies were fixated on Iraq, but Saddam's weapons were merely the mock.

On the tenth day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me: ten Gitmo lawyers a-leaping. What cares he about civil liberty?

On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Rummy sent to me eleven generals a-hyping that the war is just dandy, while our spooks are warning that civil war and theocracy are a-borning as the Kid in the Oval feels free to consult a Higher Authority. Burkas, turbans and beards you'll see after the puppet Allawi.

Somebody really, really, needs to marry this poor woman and help her with her problem. It is obvious that until she gets some relief, we will continue to be bombarded by further examples of the bitterness that she feels toward men.

Not only is it bad for the country, think of the kids that will be seeing additional public examples of the anger that this woman feels toward people in general, and men in particular.

So, single men and women or America, your country needs you, Maureen really needs you. Answer the call. Do your duty. (Small fur-bearing animals are welcome, too.) Step up, and give it your all. Do it for the kids.