When I wrote this I had no idea it could be even worse for the GOP'ers:
http://www.dailykos.com/...
...oh, sweet Lord, the destroyer of worlds isn't Hillary...it's a black man!
The hysteria is building on the crowded dock. Good, white neighbors stand toe-to-toe, smiling through long teeth as eyes dart for small openings to push ahead, closer, closer to the gangplank. Thoughts race; My god, it's almost November, and the end is coming! I gotta get outta here!
Doris holds Butch's hand so hard she slashes his rough skin with her manicured talons. He is a few steps ahead of her, using his weight and innate talent as a linebacker to create a path for the two of them. She has the oddest of feelings, beyond the panic and noise; that something, something approaches behind her. Her imagination takes hold and creates a scene of hordes of blacks, charging through America, a dark armada emptied from the cities, led by the Savior Obama. Hell bent on revenge for 200 years of white rule...now it's their turn, and they're coming to her town.
Around them, throngs of nervous Republicans clamor...rumor has it that there are only so many rooms left on the SS Freedom. Where will they put us? On the deck with a blanket? Now I know how all them Jews felt on the Exodus. It's getting ugly, voices are raising, the pushing is getting more deliberate. Doris pats her mauve Donna Karan jacket, making sure the Freedom tickets they pre-purchased at the local Wal-Mart are still there. Tickets to a new life. Tickets back to the their old life, a life that was so wonderful. Now, seemingly gone forever, in a swirling maelstrom of impending voter fraud and media complicity.
The ship's horn blows, commanding attention on the packed dock. The Freedom is leaving soon. Everyone stops for a brief moment, shocked, startled. Then, the pushing begins in earnest, mixed with loud miserable fear-filled cries. "Let me on!" Move! Move!" "Get outta my way or I'll kill you!"
Feet trample to bits the discarded refuse, suddenly unneeded and dropped amidst the insanity. A portrait of Bush Sr. and Reagan, locked together, waving, smiling. Keys to a bright yellow 2004 Hummer. A leather bound King James Bible. An American flag lapel pin.
All of it now garbage. All that mattered, gone. The only thing that matters now is getting on that ship. The horn bellows again.