Terror Scare

Hello, friends. It's Chas, back from a long trip to the Vatican (not France, Spencer ... like I'd associate with cheese-eating surrender monkeys). I won't bore you with the details of my journey — like flying in my own Gulf Stream V-SP, the most expensive private jet in the world at a whopping $45 million — but let's just say that Christianity and the conservative way of life are safe for the time being and will be for a while after I did a little favor for Joe, aka Pope Benedict XVI. Hey, I owed him for recommending my new tailor. Seriously, it's so hard to find a good one these days that doesn't make you feel nervous when he cups your balls.

Anyway, to celebrate my return home, I was joined for a light lunch by my girlfriend, an overqualified receptionist with a body that would turn Sam Donaldson straight (as if that's even possible).

Seeing as how I've been so busy saving America from demonic atheists and liberals — same thing — I haven't really been able to keep an eye on the Homeland Security's terror level, which happened to be raised that day to Orange: "high risk of terrorist attacks." I read about it in the Union Leader while refueling in New Hampshire (98 percent white).

We were at a restaurant with a name you probably can't pronounce in a neighborhood you only wish you could be seen in, eating watermelon soup with vegetables. It's part of this whole Sonoma diet we're into. The sun was out that afternoon, so baby was wearing a stunning Philip Treacy hat and Matsuda sunglasses, and we were discussing the miracle of carbonated natural water.

All of a sudden, a loud, booming siren sounded, as if a tornado had just touched down, a hurricane was about to hit shore or a meteor was racing toward the Earth, and we were all screwed. Only, the weather was perfect, not a cloud in the sky, and nobody from NASA had called to give me a heads up. I knew something was wrong. Could it be my old foe, Al-Qaeda? It kept going and going, and it seemed to be getting louder and louder. My anxiety kicked in, and I didn't have any Xanax around, because baby took them all before the McCain fund-raiser last week.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a moving van parking nearby, and the driver got out, wearing a turban. Could that be the Al-Qaeda operative? Instead of taking any chances, I took the offensive and grabbed my chilled salad fork and began sprinting toward him and the truck he drove, which very well could have been full of C4!

I tackled him, put the fork to his neck and screamed, "Not today, Barack!" He screamed like a little girl. I was sure it was due to his guilty conscience, but it turned out to be because of the freezing metal. "I no know what'chu mean," he pleaded, and until I checked to see his vehicle was full of chairs, I didn't believe him, and I kept slapping him to try and get some answers.

Eventually the siren stopped, leaving me puzzled and highly embarrassed. Explaining the situation to the cops only got worse when they began laughing at me, because the siren I freaked out over was in fact the weekly Wednesday-at-noon test of the civil defense siren that's been going on since it was installed during the reign of that commie, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, in case Japan or Germany got ballsy.

Afterward, I looked at the bumper sticker on my Ferrari 612 Scaglietti and knew I hadn't overreacted and that my intentions were in the best interest of the country, no matter what some hippy, liberal douche might say.

~What Would Rumsfeld Do?~


So we meet again.

Well, well, well. I guess it's safe to start talking politics again. My formidable opponent, Chas, must have returned from his six-month retreat, during which he spent time in the South of France (trying for force people to begin using the reference "Freedom Fries"), the Alps, Canada (on accident), and the week-long seminar--a fusion of business and pleasure--held annually in Beavereater, Colo., by the American Association of People Who Hate People With Different Opinions.

I'm hoping that Chas, whenever he's not watching TiVoed reruns of the Colbert Report, can drop in from time to time, proffering words of wisdom, as well as providing his, I'm guessing, horrible take on the new column in the Arkansas Times entitled "All, Right, Arkansas," penned by my former co-intern, Katherine Whitworth. I'm sure he rejects any notion that shows sympathy with liberal tendencies, such as feminism in her most recent column. In that case, I'll have to take to her defense, as I've found after reading a few of her columns that I agree with many of the points she offers.

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In other news, one of the most respected atheists and scientific writers of our time, Prof. Richard Dawkinds of Oxford University, has been gracious enough to lend his time to that tiny little spot on the map that is Little Rock. He'll be at the Clinton School of Public Service, Thursday, April 26, at 6 p.m. Anyone who is interested in the "truth," as he puts it (and I agree), should attend. "Be there, or be scared," I wrote to the Arkansas Times. Or... Be indifferent on the subject of cosmology and teleology, as well as evolutionary biology and quantum theory, and stay preoccupied with something as mundane as watching T.V. Who cares?

If you have no idea who I'm talking about, check out this video. Also, yes, he was the guy that was the main character in the South Park episode about Atheism.