Get This Mangina Off The Planet

Well, the San Francisco Chronicle's Mark Morford out does himself with sycophantic, hyperbole over his Obammessiah, today, February 27. He so revels in hero worship for The One, it's amazing that the White House doesn't feel compelled to get an order of protection against this creepy columnist.

No one in the Old Media is more sold on The One and less credible for his girlish crush than Morford. He is a fount of mush as he wonders if he should be scared of today's problems or suffused with lust in his heart for Obama (if you'll remember the Carterism). “It goes something like this: Do you allow yourself, even now, to feel any sort of ongoing, relieved, merciful joy that Barack Obama actually is sitting in the Big Chair in the White House? That this elegant, articulate, Zen-like man whose integrity is rock-solid and whose ideas, while certainly not in perfect alignment with every ultra-lefty vision on the planet (clean coal? Please), are astonishingly ambitious and brave, is leading this nation during one of the worst economic times in its short and paroxysmal history?”

One would expect such gushing from a teenage girl writing to a teen idol, not a grown man talking about a mere politician.

Seriously, Morford wasn't finished...

“It's a bizarre choice indeed. The good news is, the Obamafied bliss is still out there, still swirling, still waiting to be supped like a fine digestif. At any given moment you can, if you so choose, pause in whatever it is you're suffering from and hear that voice and see his visage or perhaps merely hear some pundit say the words "President Obama" out loud, and you can still enjoy that delicious chill, that little jolt that says, "Oh my God, did we really do it? Is that lucid, impeccably centered man really the leader of the free world?"

-- Warner Todd Huston, NewsBusters

OK – This is the point where it doesn’t matter what your politics are or who you voted for.

This is not journalism, it’s not reporting, it’s not commentary, it’s not observation.

This is the perverse ramblings of a masturbatory freak recounting his orgasmic fantasies. It’s not hard to picture this poofer lying in bed in his Obama Under Roos (the custom type with the built in seaman cup so he doesn’t have to get up in the middle of the night) crying out for his savior at the just right moment.

The recent news is the SF Chronicle will be sold or closed. Geez, we wonder why.

There is a third option, if the egos running this porn-shop/newspaper will pull their heads out of each others butts:

FIX IT.

For openers, get rid of Mark Morford. Show us some hope. It’s good for the paper, and Morford can get on with his true calling in the drama-queen gay-porn film business.

Where does this vulgar sleaze end?