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By Ann Coulter

Whenever I am applying NAIR to my tanned, supple legs that seemingly stretch from here to eternity, I find myself watching tapes of Star Trek (the original one, of course, when the majority of the crew was still Caucasian). Consequently, I am considered to be something of an expert on dealing with violent creatures from distant places.

The United States of America might not be the Klingon Empire, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t learn valuable lessons about dealing with our enemies from a masculine race of unapologetic warrior/conquerors. When the Klingons would lose a soldier to enemy attack, it was their policy to kill a thousand civilians on the opposing side. There was no liberal bedwetting about the “brutality” of it all; they just took a hand phaser and vaporized fifty score defenseless men, women, and children.

It was so cool.

I also advocate the approach of the Kelvins, who placed pain infliction devices on their enemies in order to control their behavior through the imposition of agonizing torment. Yes, those Jesus-hating Arab cowards would be screaming, “Ann, please don’t hurt us anymore,” but I would just keep ratcheting up the pain by adjusting the controls on my wrist console.





My God, the very thought almost induces the first orgasm I’ve had since I heard that John John Kennedy was lost at sea.

Having softened them up, I would then apply the Vulcan mind meld to Osama bin Laden. I have a pretty good idea what his thoughts would reveal:

“I am weary of sleeping with Hillary. Why did I let her talk me into bombing the Pentagon? And who is this rare beauty that is reading my thoughts? Praise Allah that she is not wearing a veil to obscure my view of her exquisite face!”

By the way, did you ever notice the absence of dogs on the Enterprise? In deference to the politically correct crowd, I will refrain from mentioning why, but I am confident that you need look no further than a certain lieutenant named Sulu.

A relevant episode of Star Trek was “City On The Edge Of Forever”, in which Joan Collins was the guest star. I’ve always considered Collins to be a less glamorous version of Vivien Leigh, in much the same way that Laura Ingraham is a laughably inadequate knockoff of a truly breathtaking pundit whom modesty prevents me from identifying by name.

Collins portrayed a peace activist in the 1930s who wanted the United States to unilaterally disarm (you know the type - hates the military. I wonder if she claimed to have invented the Internet, too). To make a long story short, Kirk and Spock and McCoy travel back through time, Kirk falls in love with Collins (since it was heterosexual love, we can safely assume that Kirk was a Republican), Spock learns that unless Collins dies in a car accident she will succeed in her attempt to disarm America, and Hitler will take over the world (of course, in left-liberal Hollywood, this possibility was portrayed as being ominous). When the car is about to hit Collins (the ignorant pinko was violating the law by jaywalking, eerily presaging how Bill Clinton later broke the law by slaughtering poor Vince Foster), Kirk tries to save her, but Spock physically restrains him, Collins is killed, and the Pentagon budget increases faster than ugly on Chelsea’s face.

Think of it – if that leftist Spock had not stopped Kirk from saving Collins, the Third Reich would rule America today!

Not that it would be a good thing. But you can rest assured that, if the manly men of the Gestapo were calling the shots here, then the sniveling core constituencies of the Democrat Party would be singing a different tune, and it damn sure wouldn’t be “We Shall Overcome”, “Hava Nagila”, or “La Cucaracha”.

If I could travel back in time and insure that bin Laden was smashed by an automobile, then I would enthusiastically do my patriotic duty. As a matter of fact, I was recently driving my fashionable late model motor car to Lynchburg to attend Reverend Falwell’s annual Young Aryans Against Evolution And Sodomites Seminar (2001 Mercedes Benz SLK, royal blue to match the color of my blood, while providing a stunning contrast to the natural blond luster of my hair, which has been described by admirers as “upscale tawny”). I deliberately swerved onto the soft shoulder and barely missed scoring a direct hit on a swarthy terrorist-looking type who was concealing his identity with dark glasses and was armed to the teeth with a German Shepherd and a white cane.

Can anyone seriously suggest that Antichrist Daschle would be pro-American enough to do the same?

Maybe we should airlift Teddy Kennedy over to Kabul and have him drive the Taliban home from a party.

But it is not the corrupt Democrat politicians or their promiscuous junkie constituents in the disposable blue states who are fighting for America’s freedom. Instead, it is a coalition of bible believing red state militiamen and a shockingly attractive flaxen haired G.O.P. television pundit who have united to wrest Old Glory from the arsonist hands of Gore voters. Those who are too feeble minded to navigate a butterfly ballot could never be trusted to defend our Shining Exclusive Gated Community On A Hill.

This brings us to my favorite episode of Star Trek, the one with Frank Gorshin (who endeared himself to conservatives by portraying the Riddler, archenemy of the inspirations for the founding of the North American Man Boy Love Association, Batman and Robin). Gorshin played a dichromatic member of a self-destructive race that was black on one side of their face and white on the other.

This superb allegory clearly represents the duality of our self-destructive American society. There is the white side, which I must reluctantly acknowledge is literal as well as figurative. The white side consists of what Rush Limbaugh calls the “people of accomplishment”. A classic example of this would be yours truly, who overcame the disadvantage of not having society lavish great treasure on her, as it would have if she were a mongrelized crack whore leaching off welfare by day while manning the phone banks of “John Kerry For President” by night.

I personally pulled myself up by my bootstraps (Gucci, $678.95) and rose to superstardom despite having been raised in an upper income Connecticut suburb where the only pity-inducing drive-by shootings occurred when our Neighborhood Watch fleet of Lincoln Town Cars spotted Jehovah’s Witnesses trying to peddle their Satanic filth.

In sad contrast, the black side of America is, tragically, just that. However, as someone who is not a bigot, I unashamedly acknowledge that I worship Clarence Thomas, J.C. Watts, and Alan Keyes (just as long as they never, ever touch me). And there certainly are a lot of white lowlifes, not to mention semi-white people, such as the Irish and Italians.

The Semitic tribes can’t even get along with each other, so I don’t see why those of us who actually have a chance of going to Heaven should bother with them. The predictably inane response from these porkless people will be to cry, “Anti-Semitism!”

This is absurd; I once dated a Jewish boy, until I found out that he was Jewish. With the advent of rhinoplasty, those people really should have to wear a gold star or something. Who would have ever expected that someone named Davis would have the blood of Christ on his hands?

As for the Asians, Hispanics, and the “poor-is-me” gambling magnates in the Native American community, they are here, and we must tolerate them.

At least until we get a couple more of our people on the Supreme Court.

The lesson that we can learn from Star Trek is that, with superior weaponry and a thorough bleaching of our domestic gene pool, the universe is ours for the taking. The first step is to eliminate the threat that is posed by nomadic camel-mongering inbreds, whose only contribution to civilization has been to establish that tablecloths can double as headwear.

We can be like the Ferengi, and brutally vanquish anyone who stands in our path. Or we can be like the Tribbles, and passively coo as sand maggots who have never even heard of Neiman Marcus destroy our Anglo Saxon way of life. I know what Klingon Captain Kang would do. And I’m confident that President Bush knows what to do, because 41 told me that 43 spends at least as many hours a day watching Star Trek as the Arkansas hick used to spend with his communist toadies at so-called “Cabinet meetings”.

It’s time for true patriots to turn a deaf ear to the craven bleatings of the feminized Clintonistas, set our hand phasers to kill, and then, to paraphrase that disturbing little colored man Prince, we're gonna party like it’s 2399!

Editor’s Note:
The preceding column was not written by the author and TV pundit who is named Ann Coulter. This column was written by another Ann Coulter, one who has a firmer grasp on reality than her more famous namesake.  

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Podvin, the Series


Last changed: December 13, 2009