Forgive me if I make this brief. I'm not sure how safe it is for me to poke my head up right now, let alone post on this site. In case you haven't read it or heard about it yet, earlier this week, the evangelist Pat Robertson urged the US Government to assassinate me. Here's a brief transcript.
You know, I don't know about this doctrine of assassination, but if he thinks we're trying to assassinate him, I think we really ought to go ahead and do it. We have the ability to take him out, and I think the time has come that we exercise that ability. We don't need to continue spending hundreds per year to pave roads for him and pick up his trash and recyclables. His website's dumb, he dresses like a five year old, and he never stops for yellow lights. I say we take him out while we have the chance.
First of all, I'm not sure why he insists that I believe the government is trying to assassinate me. I've accused many people of trying to kill me: my neighbors, my coworkers, the receptionist at the vet's office, Jaleel White and his lawyers. I've never included the government in these charges, though. If anything, I'm an enthusiastic proponent of the government taking other people out; for reference, see the letters I wrote to the State Department about my neighbors, my coworkers, the receptionst at the vet's office, and Jaleel White and his lawyers.
And why single me out, like I'm dead weight on society? Unlike certain pastors whose income is tax-free, I foot the bill for all kinds of government crap. I'm a single man who doesn't own a house and can't afford an accountant; without guys like me, the White House A/C would be set at 85. I won't even dignify the comment about dressing like a five year old, except to say I don't know many five year olds who can match a pair of Hammer pants to a scarf like I can.
In conclusion, if you are one of those special forces guys and you happened to hear Mr. Robertson's appeal, I ask you to please refrain from assassinating me; this plea also applies to any hitmen hired by Pat Robertson. I have learned the hard way that, no matter what you may think, Pat Robertson does not appreciate a good Redd Foxx impression. Nevertheless, a call for my assassination is a little overboard. Such pleas do not belong on television, Mr. Robertson; they belong on websites. Someone set up a Xanga for this guy, and do it quick.
Posted by Cody at August 25, 2005 8:03 PM