Contessa's Hour: or, Love Among the Savages
posted by joel 05/12/2008 12:13:33 PM EST
Well, on Friday Contessa and Cenk offered their kindly and considerate suggestions to a guy whose girlfriend's father hangs out at "GITMO" (you know, the totally extralegal prison camp on U.S-controlled soil). What's the old man doing there? Oh, "interviewing detainees."
Seems our love-struck correspondent's having trouble retrieving his tongue from the cat when Papa's around, incessantly blathering 'neocon' politics.
Maybe he needs to consider how it might feel if he did open his mouth--and found his tongue on Daddy's plate the next morning, keeping company with three scrambled eggs and a couple of slices of toast.
His could-be father-in-law's no addle-pated, well intentioned (but alas, misguided), dimwit Republican yearning for a heart-to-heart dialogue with the younger generation:
HE'S A PROFESSIONAL TORTURER.
Time to excuse oneself from papa's presence, young man. Civilized folk don't suffer the company of such persons. And if you really care for his daughter, tell her you would be delighted to see her again when she has emancipated herself from her beast of a progenitor. She'll need a magnet to draw her away from her dad's "charm", and you can't do that from within his orbit.
Oh, yes -- um, in addition to being a monster (though, surely, a good family man), Pop's psychotically deranged (For example, Senator Obama is in fact not the Manchurian Candidate*). So that tongue-on-the-breakfast-pla
te image could just come true, me boyo. The neocon-drip talk-boarding is just a warm-up.
OK now, come clean, Cenk: this was a put-on, right?
*As a reality-check, let me remind our correspondent that the real Manchurian Candidate's name is Raymond, not Barack.