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Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Terrible, worst title ever.

So, some nice Southern gal gets cold feet and runs out before her wedding. She's gone for days, and it's big news. Law enforcement and the media run amok because hey, a semi-attractive white woman is missing. I half expected Tom DeLay to put a bill in front of the President to save her life from "liberal kidnappers who hate marriage."

But there wasn't time. Before the United States Congress could rouse itself from it's incredible stupor, the runaway bride turns up in Albuquerque. "All praise is due Allah! She is safe!" and that's good, because I'm sick of stories about these people being found dead. Now I fear it may be too late to kill this stupid woman.

Lots of people get nervous before a wedding. I'd call it a natural impulse. Anything you venture into of this magnitude should cause you to have second thoughts, even if you know it's the right thing. So, you call your fiancee, and you talk, or you go get counseling. You don't hitchhike cross country, sucking off truck drivers to pay your way. At least that's what Emily Post always says.

She calls the authorities upon arriving in New Mexico (yes, one of the United States), tearful and claiming to have been kidnapped at gunpoint, because there's such a high resale value on skanky looking Southern hags. The FBI steps in. Next thing I know, she's on TV, fully outfitted in FBI clothes, including the hard-to-find FBI stuffed teddy bear. You think I'm kidding? The one they gave Elian Gonzales sold for 19 thousand dollars on E-Bay. But I digress.

So, now I have to look at this inconsiderate, thoughtless, flaky cracker-ass, wearing clothes that my tax dollars paid for, getting a private flight back to the land that time forgot. There has been some discussion of charging her with filing a false report, and suing her for the cost of the search, rumored to be in the neighborhood of $60,000. I hope they make her pay for it, too. She cut her hair. Why else would she do that except to prevent being identified? I'll pay a hundred bucks if someone will go down to Georgia and irradiate her so she may not reproduce. Let the defective genes stop here.

The icing on the cracka, of course, is that her fiancee, Billy Bob something, wants her back. If I have to take her back, I'd make her gargle with Clorox and pass at least three blood tests. She's disgusting, and in 15 years, we're going to read about the runaway daughter of the runaway bride.

I have seen the future, and it's not getting any better looking.


posted at 10:52 PM

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