Me and the Poet Down at the Confederate Memorial

That San Francisco hippy poet who pretends to be a proud Confederate-American sent me another one of those poems of his that don't rhyme:

Date: Mon, 27 Dec 2010 05:21:50 -0800 (PST)
From: "George William \(Bill\) Newport" gwnewport2@yahoo.com
Subject: burn a confederate flag
To: "Gen. JC Christian, patriot"

You need to quit running your bullshit generator wide ass open,
and quit shoveling pig shit into it,
I am not pretending to be a Confederate man you worthless piece of shit,
I am a Confederate man,
totally unlike you,
asshole,
the bunch of lying shit you made up shows what a totally ignorant psycho you are,
you retard,
you are not at all hard to fool,
I will be perfectly happy to drive out there,
give me a time and a place,
you pool of shit-scum,
quit trying to align yourself with our valiant Confederacy to make your elephant dick sucking ass look better,
tye-dyed is spelled tie-dyed,
try spell-check dumb-fuck,
there is nothing at all intelligent about your CIB,
you are not heterosexual you are homosexual,
I will be perfectly happy to shove your righteous rogering up your ass sideways and pull it out your nose
G

Here's my response.

Dear Mr. Newport,

You're not fooling anyone. My associates at the Confederate Intelligence Bureau (CIB) analyzed your poetry and concluded that it was written by a leftislamunistofascist hippy from San Francisco (or possibly even Berkeley). I planted the "tye-dyed" part in my e-mail as a trap to trip you up. It's the kind of spelling correction a San Francisco hippy wouldn't pass up, and you didn't.

I've taken your case to my superiors at the CIB and to certain anonymous potential justices of CSA Constitutional Court. They've ordered you to be sanctioned with extreme prejudice for impersonating an honored son of our dear Confederacy. In everyday terms, that means we're going to whoop your ass, and I've been honored with the contract.

You are hereby ordered to appear at the Confederate Memorial at the Caroll County Courthouse in Carollton, Misssissippi at 12:00 p.m. on the First day of January in the Year of Our Lord, 2011.

At that time and place I shall begin executing your sentence by pulling down your pants and taunting you. No, better yet, I will pull down my pants and taunt you. Then, I'll paint my ass a Soviet shade of red before manipulating my butt cheeks in a way that makes them appear to be delivering off-colored jokes about sailors. I'll probably also make you watch me pleasure myself much in the same way Gen. Nathan Bedford Forrest forced his naughtiest goats to witness what he called his "muzzle loading."

Finally after all that, I'm going to beat you like Jefferson Davis beat his most loyal and favored pieces of property when one of them spilled his julip.

That is if you're man enough to show up.

Heterosexually yours,

Gen. JC Christian, patriot