Bill O'Reilly: a man long divorced from reality. A man barely in touch. A man who thinks progressives are waging a war on Christmas. A man... who wears so much make-up, he looks like a Geisha who was hit in the face by an exploding bag of Cheetos. That's right, Bill, I'm calling you out. Today on "The Radio Factor" you said:
"I am not going to let oppressive, totalitarian, anti-Christian forces in this country diminish and denigrate the holiday and the celebration. I am not going to let it happen. I'm gonna use all the power that I have on radio and television to bring horror into the world of people who are trying to do that. And we have succeeded. You know we've succeeded. They are on the run in corporations, in the media, everywhere. They are on the run, because I will put their face and their name on television, and I will talk about them on the radio if they do it."
When I read the word "horror" in the transcript above (courtesy of Media Matters, who you're too scared to debate by the way... tough guy) I thought, "Oh snap! Bill's going to emerge from my television like that dead girl from The Ring and scramble my face into a Photoshop filtered blur!" But your idea of "horror" is to what... talk about people on radio and television? That's scary, Bill. Scary stupid.
So bring the horror, Bill. Put my picture on TV. It's right up there -- the smirky, bearded, black and white photo at the top of this page. The one that looks like Corey Feldman's ID photo from the rehab clinic. And mention my name all you want. Because while I have no desire to "diminish or denigrate" Christmas, I do think your farkockteh "war on Christmas" is -- what's the word? -- a pathetic and kneejerk farce.
Christmas is freaking everywhere, Bill. Push your team of body guards aside and take a look around. Any rational human being knows that Christmas isn't going anywhere. But if my wife and I choose to send Happy Holidays cards to our family and friend because -- gasp! -- not all of them are Christians, it doesn't mean we're trying to steal the yule log that's somehow buried in your invariably well-made-up ass. By the same token, if my kid's public school organizes a Holiday Concert, it doesn't mean they hate Christmas; it simply means they want to hold a pageant for all of their students -- not just the Christian ones, you tool!
So not only have I called you a tool; made ad hominem remarks about your make-up, your ass, and the yule log nestled therein, I've also said that the phrase Happy Holidays isn't a threat to anyone -- except you -- which means I've somehow denigrated Christmas according to your paranoid, borderline personality standards.
But maybe that's not enough.
I'll tell you how much I want your brand of horror, Bill. From now until the 25th, I'm going to take several seconds out of each day to personally fart on something featuring the phrase "Merry Christmas." That's right, Bill. I'm going fart on the two words you love so much until you talk about me on your shows. It's your call, Bill. Quite the conundrum, isn't it? You ignore me and you'll have to live with Merry Christmas being farted on by a progressive ex-Catholic filmmaker/blogger who called you a tool on the Huffington Post. Or you can talk about me and save your precious phrase from the stench of my flatulance.
And make up your mind quickly because as soon as I click "post" I'm walking into the yard next door and farting on a giant inflatable lawn eyesore that kind of looks like Santa Claus. I say "kind of" because it's half deflated and sort of hunched over backwards.
What'll it be, Bill?