Republican Humor and Conservative Satire

Back Into The Belly Of The Beast
by: Colonel Morton T. Morton, US Army (ret),
RepublicanPress.com War Correspondent

(Baghdad, Iraq)
As our big U.S. Air Force C130 approached the Baghdad airport, I couldn’t help but notice that the city of Baghdad was all aglow. It was near midnight as our aircraft circled over the capitol of this ancient land, yet the lights from the city proudly displayed the evidence that things had changed since our last visit in April. It appeared to this war-weary Republican warrior, that those changes were for the better.

”The shimmering lights from the city upon the hill for all to see / Those are the lights of freedom and progress for those that long to be / And it is those lights that will guide lovers of freedom to be all that they can be.” I said aloud as I looked down upon the illuminated city. I was overcome with emotion as I spoke those words, but I kept my composure, remembering that I was a fighting man, and fighting men don’t cry.

”I saw her beauty in the reddish glow. And, I reached out to her and hugged her tight. I fondled her tits really slow, and then I f**ked her with all my might!” Colonel Pooner said in return to my assessment. I was pushed over the edge of emotionally with his poetic words of wisdom and I couldn’t contain the tears rolling down my cheeks. Yes, I cried - cried like a young teenage girl that had just been laid by several members of the football team from her high school—yes, I cried like that and felt like that young teenage girl as I listened to Colonel Pooner’s words. But, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Colonel Pooner’s verbiage struck a chord with me; for he is the Rasputin of repartee, the viceroy of verbiage, the leader of lingo, the Ghandi of gab.

Our plane continued its circling as I took a package from my backpack. It was addressed to me from my third son, Turdgood Morton. “Dear Dad, Hope you like this” the note read and it was signed, ”Your third son, Turdgood.” I quickly ripped the package open to find my goodies. Yes, Turdgood had sent me a picture of my wife in the nude, a box of Viagra, a tube of “Big Tex Crab Cream,” and a used condom with a note attached that read ”If you can’t beat’em, then beat off!” I laughed as I picked up the note and the used condom.

”Damn Morty, I wished I had the relationship with my sons that you have with Turdgood.” Colonel Pooner said as he began to cry in the most manly-man manner. Then he added, ”I know - I know, all 23 of my sons were bore out of wedlock, and I do wish that I had taken the time to get to know them, any of them. There are so many things I would like to ask them. Things like: How have you been? or What the hell did your mother name you? Do you ever wonder what happened to your father? Is your mother still good looking and banging everything in sight? Just so many damn things I would like to ask each of them.”

As he cried, he reached over into my package and retrieved the “Big Tex Crab Cream,” unzipped his trousers, and applied the balm onto his crab infested crouch. I watched as he rubbed it in the most manly-man manner. His tears of remorse were replaced by tears of pain, as the healing balm burned deeply, killing numerous amounts of crabs that inhabited his old crab infested, uni-nut, crotch.

”Those lights are a sign that power has been restored to Baghdad. Democracy is taking hold - no longer does an evil dictator rule - a sign that freedom is on the march. Damn the liberal left that . . . .” I yelled out but couldn’t finish my thought; for a missile smashed into the side of our plane.

”Son-of-a-bitch! I’m hit!” Colonel Pooner yelled as our plane rapidly descended.

”You lucky bastard!” I tried to call out to him, but the G-force of the descending of our wounded craft wouldn’t let me utter those words very loud. I had always been jealous that Pooner had more purple hearts than I did.

”Morty, it looks like we are going to the big battlefield in the sky. I never thought we would die this way . . I mean, I always pictured us getting our nuts cut off with a rusty knife and bleeding to death. Or maybe, being sexually abused by an entire enemy regiment, but never did I dream we would go out in a damn Air Force cargo plane! Since we are near the end, I would like to tell you about doing your wife on our recent trip home. I hope you can forgive me for doing her, but you had passed-out and we were still there, and one thing led to another and I did her . . .I did her really good!” Colonel Pooner yelled.

”Damn you. . you over sexed bastard!” I said as I swung at Colonel Pooner’s bald-ass head. Unfortunately, I missed his balding, bulbous noggin, but my right hand did crash though the window, which in-turn, caused the C130 to shake and spin more violently, like a teenage boy would while getting his first blowjob from the local high school whore.

”FAG FACE!” Colonel Pooner yelled out and swung at me, but he too missed his mark. Unfortunately, his left hand hit the captain of the plane, which led to the captain becoming incapacitated - Incapacitated like a young teenage boy after receiving his first blowjob from the high school whore.

Thankfully, the co-captain landed our aircraft. Colonel Pooner and I fought for another two hours as the plane sat on the runway. Finally, we made-up and exited the aircraft to the sweet smell of freedom that filtered through the Baghdad air.

”Damn, the glow that we spied from 2, 000 feet above was not the lights of the city, but they were the burning vehicles, tires, and buildings! It seems also that wasn’t freedom we smelled but rather it was the sewage system that was blown up by crazy ‘Raqis!” I said in a somewhat ambivalent manner.

”Yeah, damn. . .it seems we are back into the belly of the beast, Morty” Colonel Pooner said as we got into our burning Halliburton Olds 98 and tried to make our way down the highway of death from the Baghdad Airport.

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