The Ballad of Said and Nancy, or: "Americans Against America"

By Mark W. Bradley
Created Oct 24 2006 - 11:46pm

Speaking as someone who's devoted his entire life to the reckless
dismantling of our country's defenses (and who tirelessly seeks to
strengthen the hand of our merciless terrorist adversaries), I must tell you
that posing as a "Civil Libertarian Defender of the Constitution" has proven
to be the most effective and ingenious cover I've ever found for concealing
my many and varied subversive activities. Let me explain.

In 1998, I joined a group called the "AAA." No, I'm not talking about the
folks who offer roadside service and package discounts for Disney World, but
rather a left-wing organization know as "Americans Against America." Our
membership is made up mostly of people who pose as loyal Americans, and who
act as if they really cared about the erosion of our Constitutional Rights,
but whose abiding loyalty is to ancient foreign governments that have
long-since ceased to exist.

I myself am a 12th generation Scottish-American, the descendant of
undocumented aliens who snuck into America through the port of Baltimore in
the early 1700's. Like most illegal immigrants, they refused to speak
English (or at least anything recognizable as English); they multiplied like
jackrabbits; they lowered the prevailing wage; and as soon as they found
their way into the hills of Appalachia they formed gun-wielding gangs that
threatened the peace and stability of the countryside. But how could it be
otherwise? How can you expect people with names like Wallace, Gillespie,
Ingram, Robertson, and Buchanan to fit into a civilized society? It's just
not possible.

The tragic fact is that my Scottish ancestors were never able to
successfully assimilate into American culture, choosing instead to
stubbornly cling to their separate and distinct ethnic identity. After 300
years of willfully clustering together in Scottish-only neighborhoods, is it
really that surprising that my family's true allegiance has never been to
the United States at all, but rather to the 18th Century Stuart Monarchy in
exile?

Alas, my story is hardly unique. The ever-expanding membership of "Americans
Against America" now includes 10th generation Cajun-Americans who owe their
fealty to the Bourbon Kings of France, 7th generation Turkish-Americans who
seek to restore the once mighty Ottoman Empire, and even 5th generation
Prussian-Americans who like to eat pickled-herring, wear spiked-helmets, and
sit around singing martial songs about the "Good Old Days" under Kaiser
Wilhelm II. We're a diverse lot, and frankly the only thing we have in
common is our irrational and relentless animosity toward the land of our
birth. In short, we hate ourselves for our freedom.

One of our more outspoken members is an Egyptian-American stockbroker named
Said, whose family fled Egypt during the Roman Occupation of 30 B.C., but
who, to this day, remains steadfastly loyal to the Ptolemaic Kings. In order
to show his solidarity with the deposed rulers of his ancestral home, Said
often shows up for work as a receptionist at Smith-Barney wearing only a
white linen skirt, a 30" diameter solid-gold collar, and a very realistic
looking jackal-head mask. He works out regularly and weighs in at a
rock-hard 270, so it's a safe bet his co-workers at the brokerage firm
aren't
inclined to ridicule his unconventional choice of attire.

One day last week, Said, Representative Nancy Pelosi, Osama bin Laden, and I
arranged to have a quiet lunch together at an Olive Garden Restaurant just
outside the Washington Beltway in Maryland. I arrived sporting a plaid kilt,
tamoshanter, and sporran, while Said chose an iridescent feathered cloak
crowned with an impressive ceremonial mask - a peregrine falcon carrying a
two-headed cobra in its beak. Osama (for obvious reasons) came incognito. In
an effort to avoid drawing attention to himself and his unusually large
stature, he wore an eclectic Halloween costume that could best be described
as "Hasidic Wookiee." As for his dialysis machine, it was cleverly disguised
as an early cubist rendition of R2D2 on a rubber leash. Needless to say, our
little gathering was discreet enough to escape the notice of most of the
restaurant's patrons, although at one point I did overhear an elderly woman
say to her husband, "No, I'm sure of it, that tall, furry guy wearing the
black hat and pulling the slot-machine-on-wheels is definitely Jack
Abramoff."

Representative Pelosi arrived fashionably late to the luncheon, having come
directly from her favorite hair-salon, the "Cut and Run." She told us that
earlier in the morning she'd met with a team of ACLU lawyers, and that she
and they were doing everything in their sinister power to advance the evil
plans of America's suspected terrorist enemies by limiting the number of
times those guilty suspects could be water-boarded in an eight hour period.
Initially, she said, the attorneys could not agree about what constituted a
"reasonable interval" between water-boardings, but eventually they had
arrived at a consensus that anything over fourteen water-boardings a day was
pretty much pushing the envelope.

Just about the time we were finishing up our Spinach and Ricotta Cannelloni,
who should happen to stroll by our table but U.N. ambassador John Bolton! He
was trying hard to avoid our gaze.

"John! John! Over here!" shouted Nancy to the ambassador, whose strenuous
efforts to ignore us had clearly been in vain.

"Ah yes, Nancy, of course. Sorry I didn't recognize you just now. I've had a
lot on my mind lately."

"Yes, I can imagine. Have you got a minute? I'd like to introduce you to a
few of my friends."

"Well, actually, I'm in a bit of a hurry.," Bolton pleaded.

"It'll just take a minute," implored the congresswoman.

Having thus cornered the ambassador, Pelosi introduced each of us to him
with considerable fanfare. Bolton seemed particularly ill-at-ease at the
prospect of shaking hands with Osama bin Laden. His demeanor hardened
considerably as he stuffed his right hand into his coat pocket.

"Congresswoman Pelosi," he intoned brusquely, "I'm afraid you'll have to
inform Mr. Bin Laden that any direct communication between his terrorist
organization and our government is impossible at this time. As you are no
doubt aware, the president has made clear on numerous occasions his firm
conviction that negotiating with our enemies is, in all cases, strictly
contrary to American interests. Therefore, I would ask you to convey to Mr.
Bin Laden our government's unshakable commitment to "smoke him out" at the
earliest available opportunity. Tell him we are currently hot on his trail,
and once we determine his whereabouts, we intend to deal with him swiftly
and decisively."

At that point, Nancy turned to Osama bin Laden, who had somehow managed to
preserve a modicum of dignity throughout the course of this awkward
encounter, even in his Rabbi Chewbacca outfit.

"Ambassador Bolton tells me our government has nothing to say to you, Mr.
Bin Laden. Do you have anything you would like for me to relay to the
ambassador on your behalf?" asked Pelosi.

"As a matter of fact, yes," replied Osama. "Tell the ambassador we wish his
party well in the upcoming elections. Nothing is guaranteed to advance the
cause of Al Qaeda like another two years of Republican control of the
Congress. It's like a life-giving tonic. In fact, if another terrorist
incident in the next couple of weeks would help move things in that
direction, please tell the ambassador to contact us through the usual
channels. I'm sure we could cook up a little post-Ramadan surprise to scare
the bejesus out of your average NASCAR mom.."

As Bolton hastily bolted from the room, he was sweating profusely. His
cell-phone was pressed firmly against his ear, and he appeared to be howling
into the mouthpiece like a badger with his tail on fire.

A scant fifteen minutes later, a team of heavily-armed federal agents
arrived at the Olive Garden Restaurant, handcuffed the falcon-headed Said,
and roughly manhandled him into an unmarked blue sedan waiting in the
parking lot. The screech of tires was heard as the car sped off into the
distance. Osama bin Laden seemed to express genuine regret over the
incident.

"Sorry about your friend, Nancy. But I'm sure I don't have to tell you what
a pain in the ass it is dealing with all these tempermental jerk-offs," he
complained. "Fortunately, the vice-president and I have no trouble at all
working together, probably because we're both Sicilian at heart. 'Strictly
business, nothing personal,' is our motto. Why can't we all just act like
professionals here?"

As for the unfortunate Said, since his abduction from the Olive Garden by
the Department of Homeland Security, we've received no official word of his
status. However, we have heard through back-channel sources that he was
recently transferred to a Bulgarian detention facility aboard Rupert
Murdoch's
727 Fox News Jet. All I can say is, I hope Said learns to enjoy the brief
intervals in-between his water-boardings.

--
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"A little patience and we shall see the reign of witches pass over, their
spells dissolve, and the people recovering their true sight, restore their
government to its true principles. It is true that in the meantime we are
suffering deeply in spirit,
and incurring the horrors of a war and long oppressions of enormous public
debt. But if the game runs sometimes against us at home we must have
patience till luck turns, and then we shall have an opportunity of winning
back the principles we have lost, for this is a game where principles are at
stake."
-Thomas Jefferson