Note – A bitch’s dreams are just dreams and in no way reflect reality.
This bitch would never insult my dreams through reality based comparisons (wink).
Still rancid after all these years…
In the luxurious Chamber of Correction a bitch rested on the bejeweled thrown of bitchitude and gulped the fresh glass of water brought forth by none other than Christopher Hitchens. Hitch, whose correction is an on-going project, had spent the day fulfilling his task of collecting rain water from the leaves of tropical plants for a bitch’s pleasure.
Before me bound to the Four Points of Correction was Ann Coulter. This bitch calmly sipped my water whilst observing the reigning Queen of Rancidity.
“C’mon! It was just a joke!” Ann shot out in that nails on a chalkboard voice of hers.
Drawing out the Wrathful Rod of Correction I silenced Ann.
“Did I give you leave to speak, you vile emaciated wretch?” I asked. “Clearly you are in need of some serious instruction!”
A bitch turned towards Ann and gagged her carefully for fear of cutting myself on the sharp edges of her protruding eye sockets and cheekbones.
I deliberated on the issue of Ann’s lack of humanity and came to the conclusion that her home environment was not providing the kind of family values this bitch believes in. Blink. No matter how I looked at the situation…and we’re talking years of data documenting her downward spiral into pure rancidity…I came back to one clear fact.
Ann Coulter lacks home training.
Inspired, a bitch called forth some mothering options into the Chamber of Correction.
“Ann Coulter has been sentenced to 10 years of home training followed by 50 years of probation-based correction. I’m searching for the proper home to give her this training."
Madonna stepped up…"I think that’s brilliant! Brilliant! How jolly to be able to save a life. Give Ann Coulter to me. All I’ll need is a camera crew…we’ll set it in a village…and my public relations folks will have to draft a release…oh, and I’ll need three weeks to rehearse the dance sequence so…”
“Shut up. Gawd, woman! I’m trying to correct this wretched beast not position her as an extension of your brand. And who the fuck uses jolly in a sentence? Get thee gone!”
A bitch grasped my goblet of vodka cran and motioned Patricia Heaton forward.
“Uh, is this a church? I don’t see what the problem is with Ann. I mean, were any fetuses or cells that may or may not develop into fetuses destroyed during her speech? Am I missing something? What? Is Ann Coulter a ballot initiative? Because I’m more than willing to step up for and call protecting ballot initiative! Just let me contact my public relations staff, agent, the press…oh, and my make-up artist…”
A bitch drained the goblet of vodka cran.
“Cease woman! Gawd, there are no words. Get thee from my sight!”
Disgusted, a bitch was prepared to give up and banish Ann Coulter into a cage to deal with later when out of nowhere an orangish-pink complected figure appeared.
“Katie Couric? What the fuck?”
“Well, I’m looking for a ratings boost if you know what I mean. And, well heck I just don’t think Ann Coulter is very nice. What ever happened to nice, anyway? So, I though…gosh, I’m a mother and I know all about nice and home training. Why not visit the Chamber of…well, can I say that on television? What I mean is that I am willing to tackle the training of Ann Coulter!”
A bitch leaned back and slowly smiled.
“You’re on, Couric. Go forth and attempt to teach this nastified stank monster how to be nice!”
My dream faded away to the sound of Katie Couric lecturing Ann Coulter-Couric about "nice words" and proper perky behavior…followed by the soothing sound of Ann Coulter screaming.
And then I woke up!