A preview of how mean I can be
By Bill Cope
As you might know, the conservative Brain is kept at an undisclosed location somewhere south of Cincinnati, deep below the surface in a lead-lined bunker, ensuring that no fresh ideas, progressive values, or authentic morality can ever corrupt its purity of purpose. From what I can gather, it bobs about in a huge, clear Plexiglas vat filled with an aerated soup of saline solution, essential nutrients and just a pinch of formaldehyde to keep it from smelling--picture a bull's testicle floating in a Mason jar in your old high school biology classroom ... only the Brain still lives--and from its every mushy lobe and gelatinous fold, high-speed fiber optics cables run directly to the red-state guard of rightwing strategists, consultants, bloggers and pundits, spreading instantly the manifesto du jour throughout the faithful. It's a marvel of bio-chemical-electrical-political engineering, truly. As soon as the Brain thinks something, George Will says it. So does Robert Novak, Cal Thomas, Tucker Carlson, Hannity ... the entire communications division of the conglomerate. They each translate it into their own words, of course, but there is never a question of not being on the same page. No sir-ee. To this crowd, herding instinct is a virtue.
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