Comedy hatemonger Charles Johnson finds his wildest fantasies fulfilled by Democratic house speaker Nancy Pelosi's decision to wear a headscarf when visiting a mosque in Syria.
No doubt the stoat-brained oaf would've been more impressed had Pelosi arrived clad only in Doc Martens and a smile, and chosen to demonstrate her respect for local customs by pissing noisily into the collection plate...
"She is a Death-worshipping hag, a traitor to all mankind," opines a commenter who should probably get out more.
I understand the sentiment, since I never respect local cultures myself. When I was last in Boston I spent my time braying like Prince Harry on nitrous oxide, calling loudly for the subjugation of the Irish and snorting derisively when addressed by Americans.
True to form, they beat me with bats and left me to die in a dumpster.
When I was in India, I beat the cows with sticks, affected a cringe-worthy Pete Postlethwaite in The Usual Suspects accent and insisted on riding inside the train.
I damn near got burnt upon someone else's husband's funeral pyre for that.
And when I spent my time in Australia getting smashed on lager, urinating on the fruit machines and grabbing the barmaids by the tits, the Aussies pronounced me a thoroughly good bloke and joined in enthusiastically.
As for Charles and his Merry Band of Bumlickers, it pains me to see their Cassandra-like agonies. Every moment must be a torment for the poor dears. To think, they'll never receive anything but abuse for their fierce opposition to medievalism.
If we carted them off to Summerisle and burned them all in a giant wicker cock, we'd really be doing them a favour.