Dear Allen: Gettin’ Metaphorical on Your Ass

Our dear Rep. Allen West.

Note from the editor: In the tradition of “Congressman’s Corner,” Salty Eggs has invited Rep. Allen West to field questions from his South Florida constituents. Until we get a response to our query, we will do our best to answer questions on his behalf, based on what we know of his temperament and politics.

Dear Allen West,

On your Facebook page, you gave us a short snippet of the speech you would have given to the United Nations:

The future does not belong to those who attack our Embassies and Consulates and kill our Ambassadors. The Angel of Death in the form of an American Bald Eagle will visit you and wreak havoc and destruction upon your existence.

That is badass! I can’t decide whether we should give you the Presidency of the United States or a championship belt from a professional wrestling league. Will you please read us the rest of your speech?

D Abrams
Royal Palm Beach

Dear Mr. Abrams,

It would be an honor to serve this nation as President and as a professional wrestling champion, but since that presents a conflict of interest, I would have to pick one or the other, and we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Yes, that’s just the opening line to the UN speech. The rest of it goes like this:

Take heed, enemies of America! I will be riding on the back of the biggest Bald Eagle Angel of Death, like that kid from The Neverending Story who flew around on that pink dog-headed scarf thing, except I will be brandishing King Arthur’s sword, Excalibur. With a flick of my sinewy forearm, I will disembowel America’s enemies, one by one, delivering to each a patriotic slogan or clever play on words. “E Pluribus Unum” I will say to a bomb-wielding Muslim extremist, as he is impaled upon my mighty phallic symbol, but not in a gay way. “United we stand,” I will say to another, and then as my sword severs his head, “Divided we fall.”

My wing man will be Benjamin Netanyahu, who from his own Bald Eagle Angel of Death will be hurling razor-sharp Stars of David and unleashing a swarming hive of AIPAC lobbyists. We will attack from the air, while on the ground a corset-wearing Sarah Palin will wage war from astride a mighty moose, shooting a laser from her right eye every time she winks with her left. (Our enemies will “capture” her, but this is a ploy to infiltrate their compound, at which point Sarah will give birth to several thousand redneck children who will crush enemy forces by driving snowmobiles over their bearded faces.)

Iranian dictator Mahmoud Ahmadinejad may think that his nuclear bunker is safe from our wrath, but for him I have saved our greatest weapon of mass destruction: The obese body of Michael Moore, who will be bound and gagged then dropped from high above earth’s surface, accelerating in speed until it strikes Tehran with the force of a meteor. Eventually, a team of archaeologists will find Ahmadinejad’s corpse at the bottom of the crater, near a Detroit Tigers baseball cap and a pair of tennis shoes. Those enemies are the most fortunate, because they will be granted a quick death.

The rest will die a slow, wheezing death as I heat the atmosphere with the exhaust of my Hummer H2 and revoke their Obamacare. [Here, I will pause expectantly, at which point a delegate from Israel will begin a slow clap that eventually erupts into a thunderous standing ovation. And then I will conclude ...] Thank you to the Secretary-General and to my fellow delegates and to the men and women who had the daunting task of translating my remarks into a foreign language. God bless you. God bless the United States of America. And God damn those who hate freedom.

Of course, I’m probably just using a highly effective metaphor. Or bluffing. I don’t really have access to a flock of genetically altered bald eagles. Sarah Palin is not leaning over my shoulder, giggling as I write this, dressed only in a U.S. Army T-shirts that contains the musky scent of my recent workout. And I didn’t just hear the sound of Bibi in my living room, cracking open a can of Budweiser. Yes, it was probably just a Great American Dream. Or was it?

Loyal and steadfast! Lt. Col. (ret) Allen B West

Have a question for the Lt. Col.? E-mail us at DearAllen@saltyeggs.com or tweet at @DearAllenWest.