Ugly Dreamer

Jim Floyd



Date: Fri, 31 Dec 1999 14:40:33 -0600 (CST)
From: James Floyd (
Subject: Ugly Dreamer

Last night, I dreamed I was a priest.  Pat Buchanan came and
I heard his confession.  He was truly contrite and we talked for
a long while about 'the wicked and slothful servant who hid his 
talents in the ground.' 

Oh Pat, me said, I'd rather go on a holyland tour with John Hagee
and Jerry Falwell than to criticize ye, but you are not living up to 
your full potential.  Get out there, my son, and talk straight, talk
in public as you talk in private.  Do the unexpected and say the

Suddenly, I began to speak new words, say Judeo-Moslem ethics,
say Khazareo-Christian-Zionist ethics, say Judeo-African ethics,
play their game, confuse the hell-out-of'um, but never again, my 
son, use the embarrassing 'Judeo-Christian' cuss word to describe 
our peoples' integrity.  

And, just as suddenly, the redemptive answer came, and I told
our dear Patrick what he must do to regain our trust and atone
for his mediocrity. 

You must, immediately, appear on the Larry Kagan (King) show
with Billy Safire and Alan Dershowitz.  You will strip nude, paint
your body Celtic blue, from head to toe, and proceed to beat the 
living dog excrement out of these two worthless, racist, scoundrels.

These righteous acts will not make you president but they will 
secure for you a lasting place, in our hearts, as our second Saint

Then I began to feel very dirty. I found meself sitting on a bar
stool next to Donald Trump. We were in that go-go place on the 
southside. You know the one that reeks of texize, urine, stale beer,
and cheap cigars. He was telling me that if I vote for him he will
see to it that he and his ultra-rich buddies will pay all me taxes.
That's the nearest I've ever been to feeling like a dirt road whore 
being hit-on by an expert lounge lizard.

Let us hope that Trump's tired, old, pick-up lines, that have served 
him so well with his bimbos, will not work on the voters. Forget it, 
you ain't gonna get lucky this time, Donald! 
Through all this, in the back-ground, a small voice whispered;
"A Gore administration would be a Clinton administration with-
out an erection." (c) (patent pending)

I saw Hatch riding on a white salamander heading for Utah.
Senator Hatch had given up the race for the White House but 
was elected by the Israelis as their special ambassador to Salt 
Lake City, the undivided, indivisible, eternal capitol of Jerusalem.


Then came George W. Bush.  He was wearing a plastic nose and
was standing in the oval office where workmen had just finished
taking the eagle off the presidental seal and replacing it with
that chihuahua dog from Taco Bell.  He was speaking Spanglish (?)
and pointing to a new map with Aztlan written large across the 
South.  The room was filled with Rabbis wearing huge sombreros.

Oh, it was so awful, this nightmare!  How I would love to be able
to tell you that I awoke and everything was fine.  Yes, I awoke
but, may G-d help us all, the difference between a very bad dream
and today's reality is rapidly becoming indistinguishable.

Goodnight America, goodbye beautiful dreams and dreamers, 
wherever you are, and I wish for you all what, now, seems to 
be the impossible dream, a Happy New Year!

                                   Jim Floyd



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