Disposing of Trash--an Earth-Day Proposal

The Bard is Back! And he is angry!

It’s gotten much worse than even this doom-sayer thought it could get. The urine-soaked face of Hillary Clinton, soaked with the drippings of some twat like Janet Reno with whom she played dinosaur (of the Liksalotapus variety) the night before, had the audacity to snarkily malign Dick Cheney’s veracity.

Madam, it is YOU whose veracity has been tried and found wanting—or wanton, as the case may be. You are a lesbian with fat, unshapely, and unsightly ankles who has given new immediacy to the need to enforce retroactive abortions! If ever witch trials were warranted it is now!

Janeane Garofalo, who wins the trifecta for stupid, ugly, and visible, maligned on MSNBC (quelle suprise!) every veteran and enlisted man and woman. She gives new immediacy for the change of laws that prevent violent rape. We should allow, under certain circumstances—and surely Garofolo (an actress who can’t and doesn’t act and a comedian who doesn’t and can't amuse or entertain) qualifies—the forcible rape in, in all orifices, by convicts. Since this act is so repugnant--for the convicts, of course—they would be rewarded with immediate commuting of their sentences for service above and beyond the call of duty. The one requirement is that Janeane Garofalo be rendered incapable of ever walking or talking or peeing or shitting ever again. However, this would not prevent her from being a guest on Keith Olbermann's show.

Eric Holder. Well, what can be said except that his forehead was made for a cross-hairs and his skull for a receptacle for lead. Come on, now, wouldn’t it be delightful to see this bum taken out while he was standing on a stage, ranting against my NRA, thinking he has the world at his command, and then be taken out by a sniper, like Angela Lansbury having her head splattered by Lawrence Harvey at the end of the first, and only great, Manchurian Candidate movie?!

And now for the President. It is sort of an on-going, juvenile joke that the French are incapable of truly brave, macho, courageous acts, but that is not true. As someone of French extraction, Solomon has a particular fondness for the French. And their incredible accomplishments.

If you want something done brilliantly, give the project to the French. Of course, you will have to tell them that no one can do it, and their perverseness will ensure that it will be done—but beyond anything that has ever been done before. The defeat of Islam, the concept and construction of the Eiffel Tower, the beauty and pageantry and elegance of Versailles, the pure brutality of Devil’s Island, the insane pleasure of crème brulle, and the impossible artistry of the Paris subway. Note to anyone who has visited or will visit Paris: If you don’t find the Parisian subway the most perfect blend of technology, engineering, art, efficiency, and French logic, then you have no business reading the Bard Cage! That creation (and Solomon modestly purrs, the Bard Cage as well) is pure brilliance!

Well, the most incredible thing the French ever did was the way they got rid of their oppressive aristocracy—oh, yes, Solomon believes the French Revolution to be a work of blood-soaked high art a la Grand Guignol that instructed the world into how to REALLY have a revolution. The French didn’t go half-assed. They went the fully Monty.

No atrocity in the name of wiping out the ancien regime was too depraved for the Jacobins and the revolutionary fervor of that time. Oh, sure, people in English drawing rooms (and, Solomon shame-facedly admits, himself--though at a much earlier, less-evolved point in life) could wince at the atrocities, while wiping their oh-so-proper lips with silk hankies, but if you don't think that watching someone’s blood spurt twenty feet into the air when his/her head has been lopped off quickly is a mighty gratifying revenge, then you don't know true hatred!

And we Americans are learning what HATE is all about--the destruction of the American dream by a black dimwit. The price, M. Obama--just your head and your blood. And the head and the blood of everyone who has stood with you (oops, there goes NBC!).

Blood was what the French people needed. And that’s what we Americans need now.

So I say, “Bring back the guillotine!” We need it for all the people in the Obama administration, and the piece de resistance will be the Man Himself. Solomon, you can bet, will be there knitting furiously! When Obama's smug monkey face has no teleprompters to turn to, he will have to lie down on the board, look long and deep into the basket, and wince as the blade severs his ugly, empty head from his frumpy fish-wife body.

Solomon will shout, "Allez!"

Because of the shortness and nature of his hair, the official will not be able to raise the head for the orgiastic crowds to cheer, but with today’s video technology, we will get the thrill of seeing the death of the Antichrist in living and glorious high definition television—from seventeen different angles! Oh, the fantasy does me good!

Nothing satisfies the need for revenge like the guillotine. And no place would be better suited for it than on the eastern steps of the Capitol. Wouldn’t you love to see his blood running down, step by step, into the water of the pond wherin stands the equestrian statue of what is truly a great American, Ulysses S. Grant?

I don’t know about you, but I would certainly contribute to a fund to buy Barack Obama a ticket to Ford’s Theater to see a production of Our American Cousin. On one condition, of course. And that is that security be as lax as it was in 1865 when another president went there.