¡It’s Turkey Day in the Morning!

Dear Dr. Bones,

" Thank Lord Mammon HE has got / Louisedayhicksville and we" . . . not so much.

Meanwhile, back in the stable, I wonder what hormones it triggers in Howard Lewis, Freelord Carr in the peerage of Foxcuckooland, to have a whole string of frathouse fillies not just swoonin’ over the freelordly prose style, as naturally a frathouse filly would, but actually presumin’ to imitate it, a procedure that might well be called ‘uppity’,were we discussing a different whightist stereotype.

Lemme see, the Funders of Fratboy, dba _The Boston Humbug_ , have engaged at least the followin’ Party neocomradesses

(1) Braceras, J. C.
(2) Chabot, H. X.
(3) Eagan, M. X. (Tonta to ‘Deuce’ Braude),
(4) McConville, Ch. X. (¡a lovely surname, ’specially that second syllàble!),
(5) Robichaud, H. X.

This list required no more effort of the present keyboard than to remember my pet favorite whight-wing squalk show (96.9 FM 0700-1000 weekdays) and scan the first page of search results _chez_ Humbug for St. Elisabeth of H*rv*rdy, _regina et martyr_. [1]

"Chris Cassidy," it appears, is of the other sexual persuasion. ¿Wasn’t Life less unfair back in the old days when one could always tell correctly without mounting an investigation?

As I vaguely recall there is yet another _Herald_she-angel with some Canuck-soundin’ name not unlike ‘Robichaud’, enough like it to have made me wonder for a microsecond if the humbuggers could be importin’ ’em in quantity to get a lower price.

There are so many that I presume they cannot possibly all have WON the Ideological Swimsuit Competition; the Fratboy Funders must have selected a least a few second-placers.

Gobble, gobble.
--JHM



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[1] Notice that PNC-5 Robichaud at e-_loc. cit._ has thought of the _‘regina’ shtyk_ for her ownneoself, even if she looks no farther afield than Mrs.Windsor-Saxe-Coburg-Gotha over on Airstrip One.

BTW, I betcha wombschoolin’ an’ freedowndumbin’ are not havin’ any good effect on the Ratzingerites’ catechism classes. Though to be fairembalanced, one should say that back before the Great Decerebration, junior Papishes probably needed not much more idea of "St. Elizabeth of Hungary" beyond that She must have played for the whight or home team.

Not really hard to guess, that one. Not nearly as hard as finding a likely for-instance of the S-word tip-off pointin’ off in an unwhighteous direction, like maybe "St. John's wort." Or finding a neo-Roman nowadays who has her Don Bosco down cold, despite havin’ attended a wombschool named for somebooby other than Donnie boy herself.