Now, When I started reading this, I felt like dismissing it after the first couple paragraphs, since even after only 200 words or so, the author already amply revealed himself to have a brain so densely packed with a combination of packing peanuts, sawdust and sheep vomit that it was like there was some kind of Manhattan project of leftist idiocy going on here, toiling secretly away in the desert somewhere to produce this, this most apalling of feces-like screeds, so vile and redolent with stupidity and sheer hateful ugliness that you can actually see the undulating shimmering stink rising off of it.

That’s what I thought when I started reading it. After finishing the whole thing, I decided I was being much too kind in my original assessment.

Why did I even bother to finish it, you ask, when even a single sentence had the the approximate effect on one’s senses of having your head used as a La-Z-Boy by Rosie O’Donnell after having missed her last scheduled hosing-down? I simply had to continue because I couldn’t quite tell if it was so awful genuinely, or just a sarcastic parody of some idiotic, hate-filled jackass who had suffered a psychotic breakdown and gotten ahold of a computer at the SF Gate offices by barging his way in brandishing a knife. I know, I know, SF Gate would sooner kill a baby seal than actually let anything like this column through (unless of course the seal happened to pull the Republican lever on Tuesday . Then the evil little creature would be roundly denounced a traitor to his species and the world, a CFNINO – a Cute Fuzzy Nanimal In Name Only – and Greenpeace would be rapidly dispatched to have the duplicitous little bugger drawn and quartered).

But nonetheless, this POS by Morford is so decidedly polemic in every nausea-inducing paragraph, so deliberately styled in the manner of an outraged college freshmen, so purposefully bereft of anything that could be likened to thought processes that occur outside of the “Just Plain Nuts” room at the state mental facility, that what other possible option could there be than for this journalistic crime against decency to be a subversive forgery?

Well, read for yourself, and decide whether I’m overstating the matter or not.

Feel that numbness? That strange slightly chilling shift deep in the heart, like a cold wind across the blood, an ice pick straight to the third eye, fingernails across the karmic chalkboard?

Morford really shouldn’t be mentioning karma here, since by writing this atrocity he has already consigned himself in the next three lives to exist as various forms of intestinal tapeworms.

Fear not — it’s just the dark storm clouds of sadness and savage spiritual pain that just settled in over the collective soul of the country and indeed much of the world recently, as the Republican Party snatched total control of the American government and really honestly promised to further its agenda of fear and war and intolerance and bad sex and more petroleum products forevermore.

Remmeber what I said about not being sure whether this was a joke or not? Well, I’ve changed my mind . Now I’m sure it is a joke, though I’m still uncertain as to just what kind of joke it is.

The first possibility is that it is of the caliber I mentioned above: a slick, over-the-top parody of idiotarianism, revealing either the exquisite skill of the author or the laughable inanity of SF Gate editors in missing its irony. The other is that the thing is a joke in the same way Jesse Jackson is a joke. Sure, everyone points and laughs, but it isn’t because Jesse is trying to be a clown. .. he just sorta turns out that way, and all the laughter surrounding him is either tinged with a dark pity or pure malevolent loathing.

I’m not exacly sure how Morford gained acces to the Republican national headquarters and got ahold of the memo laying put the new strategy to spread “fear and war and intolerance and bad sex and petroleum products,” but in any case, we really need to start tightening security. Put some more Klansmen at the front gate and double the number of Hitler Youth on the ramparts, post haste!

And the basic upshot being that Congress will now have almost zero struggle or balanced counterargument when the GOP chooses to ram through more generally invidious resolutions and white-power laws.

Yes, he said “white power laws .”

I know, I know. We had hoped the medication was going to work this time, but the poor guy keeps suffering relapses. Yesterday I found him huddled in the corner shivering muttering something about John Ashcroft stealing his thoughts and putting them in a glass jar so they could be sold to one of Hitler’s clones in Brazil, c/o the Vast Right Wing Conspiracy PO Box.

Laws that further its famously mean-spirited schema of war, oil, corporate cronyism, CEO inbreeding, heartlessness, artlessness, cultural molestation, giddy homophobia and really awful fashion sense.

Let us not also forget anti-choice misogyny, racism, gluttony, support for Big Agribiz and Big Tobacco and a general antipathy toward anyone who makes less than six figures or who really cares about the environment or enjoys true religious freedom or alternative viewpoints or authentic orgasms or honest laughter .

This really isn’t fair. Mocking Morford is like a fight to the death with a blind, three-legged, unusually peaceful bunny rabbit. All I have to do is quote the guy and BOOM: comedy gold, right there on the page!

Hear all that honest laughter, Morford, you schmuck? That’s just about everyone who picked up your column and realized you were serious.

Everyone could use a good laugh now and then, and that, I suppose, is why we have Mark Morford. So go, have yourself a chuckle, even if it has to be one in which you feel strangely sorry for the poor, brain-dead jackass.

last update : 23-5-2018

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