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Commentary - May 29, 2005 - Printable Version
- Better Get Another Camel…This One’s Got a Broken Back
by Jeff Buckley
I’ve always been able to stomach my home state of Florida pretty well. “With a grain of salt,” as my momma used to always tell me. I can handle the hurricanes. I can handle the blue hairs driving ten miles below the posted speed limit in the left lane. I can handle having a governor who helps to rig presidential elections for his coke fiend brother and sticks his nose in every “right to life” family matter that was well enough being handled by the state courts. I can handle having a church on every street corner. Hell, I can even handle the panic-stricken masses that think two or three children abducted and murdered by convicted sex offenders during a slow news month is reason enough to act like the world is coming to an end and start building castle turrets and moats around their houses.
But, this changes everything.
Now I’m rummaging through my closets and garage. I’m looking for cardboard boxes, suitcases, and anything else I can shove my worldly possessions into. I’m starting to curiously eye my options of where I can run to and hide when the seventh seal is broken and locusts, cockroaches, maggots, and Southern Baptists pour forth from the depths of a heaving earth to engulf the entire length and width of my beloved Sunshine State. Give me a blue state to go to, folks. Any blue state will do.
What could be so horrible you ask? What could drive a mild-mannered person of reason, common sense, and composure to rant, rave, and foam at the mouth? What abomination has wreaked such havoc upon my, up until two days ago, sound and sane mind? I’ll tell you exactly what, loyal reader.
His name is Randall Terry.
I’m sure you remember Randall Terry. He is the founder and former leader of Operation Rescue and a mediocre pianist/singer extraordinaire to boot. He’s the guy who was sued by several women’s groups for damage caused to abortion clinics during protests he organized and then filed for bankruptcy to get out of paying up. He’s the guy who was arrested dozens of times and then thumbed his nose at the “sanctity of marriage” by screwing around on his wife with his young female assistant. He’s the guy who said, “I want you to let a wave of intolerance wash over you. I want you to let a wave of hatred wash over you. Yes, hate is good.” He’s The Freak Show for God who may as well have been the triggerman in 1998 when his bible buddy and fervent follower, James Kopp, offed a Buffalo, NY doctor who performed abortions.
Yeah. That Randall Terry. As if there were any other.
Well, Randall Terry has all but formally announced that he is running for the District 8 seat on the Florida Senate. Unbeknownst to me, he slithered his way into my state about two years ago and made himself at home. This kind of pisses me off because I don’t normally like to acknowledge that I share the same planet with this crotch stain and now I find out he lives less that 100 miles from my house.
Anyway, it seems that he’s still just a tad bit cranky over the fact that our state court system (Gasp!) actually functioned as it should have during the Terri Schaivo debacle. Yep. Randy’s pissed and he’s pointing fingers at the Florida Legislature for not being more Nazi SS-like in their efforts to castrate and trample the judiciary to a humiliating death befitting a only cuckolded husband.
Randall is flinging verbal barbs like a monkey chucking poo, in particular, at Republican Senator Jim King.
Jim, you see, was being a naughty little Republican while Randall Terry was over in Pinellas Park, FL trying to “save” Terri Schiavo and making a general nuisance of himself by opening up his mouth and speaking (Although the mere sight of the man alone is enough to do the trick). Jim voted against and, in effect, helped to block legislation that would have, much to the delight of all of those idiots wearing red tape over their mouths (Except of course when they had to take it off to eat and drink), kept Terri Schiavo alive to continue being a sideshow attraction and getting watered three times a day. Jim must, obviously, be stopped before he can be allowed to kill again or further infect more rabble-rousers with any smidgen of the common sense he displayed by voting against that legislation.
“We tried, but Jim King fought against us. And there must be repercussions,” Randall Terry said as he sported a gigantic, blood-engorged, red, white, and blue hard-on for Jesus H. Christ that would’ve made John Holmes blush like a schoolgirl. If I were Jim King, I’d start having my secretary check the mail a little bit more closely for suspicious packages. Randy’s feeling a little feisty and he may be in another of those Fetus Fed-Exing moods again.
And this, my friends, is where my agonizing decent into dementia begins…
The state of Florida has more idiots, morons, buffoons, imbeciles, dolts, and all-around jackasses than any other state in the Union. I’m so sure of this that I would put our 160 year-old, Viagraless penis-looking state up against any state, region, territory, principality, province, or small country in this or any other world. I know we would administer the woodshed beating to end all woodshed beatings. We are, collectively, just that damned stupid.
Randall Terry shouldn’t be elected to dogcatcher, much less to a position of legislative power. But I can guaran-damn-tee you that there are enough of the above-mentioned mental midgets and fundamentalist wing nuts milling about the woodwork down here to get this guy into the Florida Senate. And it looks like Randall has just taken that gigantic holy hard-on of his and given the woodwork a mighty thump. What remains to be seen is exactly what and how much of it is going to come crawling out between now and November 7, 2006.
I really hope I’m wrong about all of this – That this isn’t one of those Time Life “Mysteries of the Unknown” stories where a mother gets a sudden burning sensation in her mouth while halfway across the country, unbeknownst to her, her daughter is hard at work as a fluffer on the set of a Ron Jeremy flick. Please, let this not be one of those premonitions. I’d like to think that there are enough Floridians with enough common sense left to break this fool for good next November.
But, this is Florida. And something about Florida right now tells me that Randall Terry has just as of a good of a shot as Jim King, the reanimated corpse of Ronald Reagan, or Jesus Christ himself of winning that Senate seat. And, color me kooky, but that just might be the straw that breaks this camel’s back.
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