Somebody's Webpage on Twitter Somebody's Webpage on Facebook
Thurston Thornton Tells It Like It Is!
Thanks for visiting!

Save America: Burn Some Stuff

October 5, 2010

Nobody in their right mind can deny it anymore. Islam is totally out of control these days. Look here, we've got a Muslim president, Barack HUSSEIN Osama. That one was pulled off by the communist Muslims that run the country and want to put us all under Muslim law and force us all to worship the devil and eat nothing but pita bread and chick pea paste. Plus, those teetotalers would take away my Cutty Sark and force me to smoke a hookah pipe if they had their way, but I've got my bee-bee gun ready if they ever try to get past my front door. The only way they'll get me to wear one of those sissy sheik Arab outfits that look like dresses is if they stick a machine gun up my nose, and even then I'd be sure to put the thing on backwards on purpose just to show them that I still love America. Nobody's going to stop me from eating a BBQ pork sandwich whenever I damned well please. There are some things worth dying for and that's definitely one of them.

Well, I've made my point. Islam is completely bad and evil and America is a Christian nation and the greatest country in the world, even though it's almost totally infested with liberal, bleeding-heart, limp-wristed scum from one coast to the other and even all the way up to Alaska, home to the best-looking female politician that American has ever seen, Mrs. Sarah Palin.

Those classy looks should have been enough to get her and McCain in the White House, but millions of fools instead picked a terrorist Muslim with a fake birth certificate, who came packaged with a guy even older than I am who looks like he's ready to sell you a used Cadillac, that crusty old commie Joe Biden.

What a con job! What a scam! They've taken over this country and are even now preparing to insert computer chips into our brains through our left nostrils as we sleep. Sleep with your guns, folks, and if you hear anything in the house late at night, shoot first and ask questions later. If you accidentally take out Fido or Fluffy in the process, it's no great matter. You can always get another pet just like it for practically nothing at the animal shelter. Of course, I never worry about my trusty canine companion Mr. Twinkle. He's learned to stay out of range of my bee-bee gun. That's a good thing, because Mr. Twinkle is absolutely irreplaceable.

Some preacher down in Florida got the right idea by calling for a special day to burn the Koran. Now, that said, I could care less about his pathetic little church. I don't have time for that churchy stuff. People ask me what church I attend, and I tell them the church of Thurston Thornton. I'm my own minister and congregation all rolled into one. I saved myself through the power of the Holy Spirit by dunking my own head underwater in the bathtub and I didn't have to put one single dollar of my hard-earned money in any damned wicker basket so that some pastel-colored-suit-wearing phony preacher with a fancy-pants haircut could use it to buy a new church organ. Nobody cares what the organ at my mother's church sounds like except for maybe that creepy fellow who has been playing there for the last forty years, and he's gone so deaf he probably won't even realize that he's playing the new one after they've brought it in.

I must admit, I got pretty excited when I heard that they were going to burn Korans in Florida. I started imagining what could happen. The flames would rise as joyous Americans would cry out their love for this country, their devotion to Jesus Christ and their unyielding determination to defeat Obama bin Laden, the author of the Koran, and to burn all albums recorded by Yasser Islam -- previously known as that hippy-dippy singer Rat Stevens -- Obama bin Laden's right-hand man, who also happened to write that evil pro-terrorist Muslim novel, The Satanic Curses. So, now old Rat Stevens lives all by himself in some tiny apartment in England and he's scared to come out because the CIA is ready to do him in the moment he lets down his guard. I'm telling you, we should declare war on England for giving shelter to that terrorist. We've been at war with Britain before and we should be prepared to do it again for the sake of our freedom and liberty and the country we love.

Let me tell you, I've read a good bit of the Koran, almost five or six verses online. There was this part in there about going up to heaven and having your own personal harem. Quite frankly, that sounds like my idea of hell. One woman is too many, so can you imagine a whole harem? No wonder those Muslims want to be terrorists. Lord have mercy, if I had to deal with a pack of females every day, I'd probably go off the deep end, too.

Can you imagine it? "Ahmad, I want a magic carpet! Ahmad, go to the bazaar and bring me back a lamp with a genie in it! Ahmad, take the camel down to the oasis and give it some water! Ahmad, drill another oil well and use the money you make from it to buy me a private jet airplane! Ahmad, come here, let me pluck out those unsightly nose hairs and don't act like a big baby when I do it!"

So, anyway, I was anxiously waiting for the Koran burnings to begin, but what do you suppose happened? Well, it was really all very predictable. Barack Osama sent in his Muslim mind control patrol and they hypnotized that weak-minded preacher with a gold watch suspended from a string that they swung back and forth in front of his eyes while someone said, "You are getting very sleepy," over and over again. Then he saw a swirly spiral in his mind while dramatic symphony music played in the background. Barack Osama then whispered in his ear, "You will call off the Koran burnings and shave off that awful looking mustache." Ah, if only that preacher had been able to resist both of those hypnotic commands instead of just one of them.

So, some folks say that we shouldn't build a musk so close to Ground Zero. Those people are too limited in their ambitions. Check this out. We shouldn't allow a musk to be built anywhere in the U.S. of A, except perhaps in Utah just so we can humor ourselves by watching the Mormons try to deal with the situation. Musks are un-American and Islam is un-American, maybe even more un-American than tofu, the preparation of which should be made a federal crime. Furthermore, we should turn all existing musks into Hooters restaurants and require all Muslims in America to eat cheeseburgers and freedom fries at least one time to prove their loyalty to the nation. That would fix this country. And they can't just chew a little and spit out, they have to really swallow. Washing it all down with a Coke would be optional. See, I'm no fanatic.

So, anyway, back to the business of burning the Koran. I figured, if that Florida preacher is going to cave in and call it all off, I'll just do it on my own. But first I had to buy a Koran so that I could burn it. So, I went down the local Christian bookstore figuring for sure that they'd have a bunch of them there ready to sell to the local populace for burning purposes. But the lady working the counter there, Phyllis, just looked at me funny and asked me why I thought I might find a Koran in a Christian bookstore of all places.

Well, I gave her a piece of my mind, I really did, and she called 911. So, a policeman came, the same one from the last time, and I showed him a bottle of my psychiatric medication and promised him that I'd been taking it as prescribed, and accused Phyllis of having provoked the argument, which as you can see was completely true. So, he took off the handcuffs and promised to accompany me to the local library, where he was pretty sure they had a copy of the Koran somewhere, and sure enough, they had one, which I checked out. Of course, I didn't tell him the real reason why I wanted to get a copy of the Koran. When necessary, I am a master at the art of deception and subterfuge.

So, I went home and was ready to pour lighter fluid on it and set it aflame, when suddenly I felt as if a light burst forth above me and a voice from on high seemed to speak to me. The voice spoke thus:

"Oh, Thurston, rend thy garment asunder, repent, weep and moan! How couldst thou even for one moment think of committing such an act as this?"

I fell upon the ground and made reply:

"Forgive me!"

The voice returned:

"Had thou done this, thou wouldst have needed to bring thyself to account before the local librarian!"

Quite frankly, I would rather face down a grizzly bear than a librarian. So, sadly, I had to abandon my plan to burn the Koran, which I returned to the library the next day.

But I figured that I still had to burn something. And the more I thought about it, the more things came to mind. I started off with a book called Julia Child's 1001 French Cuisine Recipes for the Home that my sister Myrtle forgot at my house a few years back. Let me tell you, I hate France and I hate quiche. I made a circle of rocks in my back yard, put down some kindling wood, lit it, and tossed Julia Child onto the flames. The minute I did that, I felt a stirring sensation that was intoxicating in its promise of liberation and joy.

But I had to keep the fire going. I grabbed a copy of a Dr. Seuss book that one of Myrtle's kids had brought over. I never did like that crap. A cat with a hat, come on, please, who is going to believe that? I threw it into the flames. Then I found an old TV Guide magazine, a big fat envelope from Publisher's Clearing House -- no, I did not win anything -- and a Frank Sinatra album that Mr. Twinkle had scratched up so badly that I couldn't play it anymore, but just so you know, I think that Frank is the best of all time, and then I tossed all of that onto the bonfire as well. Actually, I have nothing against TV Guide or Publisher's Clearing House either, but I was on a roll and was ready to burn just about anything, I suppose.

Then I got to thinking about how there's been all this debate about passing a new law to make it illegal to burn the American flag. I of course am in favor of the death penalty for anyone who burns Old Glory, but as far as I'm concerned burning flags from other nations is fair game. In fact, I thought, what business does my next-door neighbor have putting up his Puerto Rican flag? I mean, please, he should be proud to be living in America even if he isn't an American. I decided to take action then and there.

I went over to his house. He was on the back porch cooking on the grill and speaking Spanish with his family. It was no time for niceties and trivialities. Without a word, I took down that accursed Puerto Rican flag and began walking with it back to my backyard where the fire was waiting for it.

Well, you would have thought it was Armageddon. The whole family started going crazy and yelling at me in a mixture of Spanish and English. Just before I was able to put that foreign banner in the fire, I got tackled from behind, then Mr. Twinkle joined in the fray, and I found myself rolling around on the ground close to the fire. I heard Mr. Twinkle's painful yelps and saw that the tip of his tail was aflame. Suddenly, the desire to burn things quite left me, and I grabbed the garden hose and sprayed my dog, instantly putting an end to his heroic suffering.

When asked why I tried to burn their flag, I told my neighbors that since they were living in America, they had better put up the stars and stripes or else. To which they replied that Puerto Rico belongs to the United States and that therefore they themselves have always been citizens of this country. They must think that I'm a gullible fool. Tomorrow I'll be calling the immigration authorities to have them all deported. Then we'll see who the fool is.

"Won't you tell me where my country lies?" said the unifaun to his true love's eyes...