On Thursday, one of my many operatives within the francosphere provided me with the actual emails Bill Donohue's crusaders
sent to Amanda Marcotte. I thought the authors of these sacred epistles deserved a little recognition, so I've been writing them and sharing the emails with my readers.
Yesterday,
I told Andy Driggers that he needed a good, long, hard rogering to lift his spirits. I haven't heard back from him, but I suspect it's because he's been busy picking out a gladiator costume.
Today, I'd like to introduce you to George Anderson, a photographer whose work has appeared in the
National Geographic. This is a special occasion for him. It's the first time his email to Ms. Marcotte has been displayed on the internets tubes.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: George (george@whitneygallery.com)
Date: Feb 12, 2007 7:06 PM
Subject: Eat me
To: [Amanda Marcotte]
I got some hot sticky juice for ya ya left-wing cunt. Come and get it.
Dear
George,
I just finished reading your letter to Amanda Marcotte and I'd like to learn more about this "hot sticky juice" you're trying to unload. You mention that its for left turning ya yas. Does that mean it can't be applied to right turning ya yas? How about bo bos of any variety?
Is it fresh? How often do you harvest it? Do you keep it in mason jars down in the cellar like I do?
Do you ever smear it all over your body and do the Macarena while watching The O'Reilly Factor?
Uhh...forget about that last question. Nobody does that. I know I certainly don't...really...I don't. Do you?
Heterosexually yours,
Gen. JC Christian, patriot
Let's do another. Here's an email from Romanco De Leone. I like his email address, "poppylongnthick." There's something very appealing about a man who combines a term of endearment for a grandfather with a description of his little soldier.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: Romanco De Leone (poppylongnthick@yahoo.com)
Date: Feb 8, 2007 4:05 PM
Subject: Hello
To: [Amanda Marcotte]
YOU RACIST WHORE. FAT UGLY BITCH. SUCK MY LONG COCK ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU KIDS NEVER LIVE AND YOUR PARENTS DIE A TRAGIC DEATH YOU ASSHOLE BITCH! I HOPE YOUR WOMB IS BARREN AND YOUR CAREER PLUMMETS TO HELL YOU BITCH
Dear
Mr. De Leone,
I'm very intrigued by your email to Amanda Marcotte--especially the part where you invite her to suck your "LONG COCK ASSHOLE." That sounds like a very interesting piece of anatomy. Can you send pictures? Is it the result of some horrible industrial accident? Or are you simply describing the length of your rectum in a rather colorful and alluring manner?
And what about your email address, "poppylongnthick?" Are you a priest?
Heterosexually yours,
Gen. JC Christian, patriot
What the hell. Let's do one more.
---------- Forwarded message ----------
From: paul bernard (puristgolf@cox.net)
Date: Feb 7, 2007 6:10 PM
Subject: ;your positon in sex
To: [Amanda Marcotte]
Cc: puristgolf@cox.net
i like the way you trash talk i don't particularly want to have sex with you but i would like a blow job.
Dear
Mr. Bernard,
You're email to Amanda Marcotte brought tears to my eyes. I understand what you're going through. You tell yourself that your stay in your mother's basement is only temporary, but then you discover the joy of watching Andy Griffith reruns in your underwear while downing massive amounts of Cheetos and Mountain Dew. Before you know it, 15 years go by and you haven't left the basement.
You become very lonely. You long for a little bit of feminine companionship, but have forgotten how to communicate with women who aren't your mother. Desperate, you start sending notes to every female sounding email address you can find. Unfortunately, most of the sexysue@aol.coms, the hotchik69@yahoo.coms, and the hornybabe@earthlink.nets you write turn out to be other guys like you who live in their mom's basement, eating Cheetos, drinking Mountain Dew and watching Andy Griffith reruns in their underwear.
Then you hear that William Donahue is angry at a couple of real females with real email addresses. This is your chance, and you're very excited. After three days of furious, non-stop, self abuse you finally calm down enough to send an email to one of the ladies. It takes you hours and hours to craft, because you know it's a one shot deal. You have to get it just right.
Asking her for a date won't work; she'd be seeking an escape route 5 minutes into it. God knows there's no hope for intercourse--you've been eating Cheetos, drinking Mountain Dew, and watching Andy Griffith reruns in your underwear for the last 15 years for Christ's sakes.
So you ask her for a blow job.
Perhaps you should consider working on your interpersonal relationship skills before you try this again.
Heterosexually yours,
Gen. JC Christian, patriot
