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Dear Israel-

We need to talk.

I thought we had a fucking deal.  Me and all my liberal blogger cronies were going to blithely look the other way while you use overwhelming force against civilians in Lebanon, and you were supposed to take Pam from Atlas Shrugs and her excitable italics off our hands for a couple weeks.

And now I see that somehow in all the confusion last week, you backed off and now we’re stuck with her. From her blog:

The  Press secretary of the Embassy of Israel called to cancel my trip to Israel.  They recommend that I not go to Israel. Apparently they have canceled  all my interviews and war coverage. Ugh.

Except to really get this statement in Pam-ese, it must be read:

Duh PRESS sick-ruh-tairy of duh EMM-buh-see of ISREE-uhl cuh-wald tuh KYEN-sul my trip tuh ISREE-uhl, etc….

In other words, someone in the Holy Land set up a bunch of interviews and events for her to attend and THEN looked at her blog and (eugh!) vlogs.

"Oh, shit!  Itzhak!  Get in here!  We gotta problem!"

"Vhat?  Vhat, Shlomo?  Vhat’s so important it couldn’t wait until I’ve finished my coffee?"

"Remeber that blogger we’ve got coming from the US?"

"Who, zhet Pamela person?"

"Yeah.  Look…"

(Cut to computer screen, where Pam is dancing and rapping in front of a salt water aquarium , holding an empty martini glass.)

Pam: "Betchoo wish yuh guhlfrinn’ was hot-like-me…" 

"You’re right, Shlomo.  We got a problem.  You’d better call her and cancel."

"But!  But!  I set up all these interviews!  What do I tell her?"

"Tell her we’re closed!  Vhat do I care?  Just make sure she doesn’t come here!  Vhe got enough of a humanitarian crisis on our hands already!!" 

Damn you, Israel.  We were all sooooooo looking forward to it.  Out of all the 101st fighting keyboarders, one, ONE (!!) conservative blogger gets ready to suit up and charge headlong into a war zone and you cancel??!!  It was all going to be so exciting!  Pam in Tel Aviv, desperately trying to find a Saks because she left her lip-liner back on Long Island.   Pam in desert fatigues a la Judy Miller and Edina Monsoon, drunkenly attacking a bunch of Israeli peace protestors, "ANTI-SEMIIIIIIITES!!" she screams, then mounts an IDF bulldozer and drives into the crowd, "SAY HELLO TO RAYYY-CHULL FRICKIN’ CORRIEEEE FUH ME, YA MOOOOOOO-SLUM SYMPUH-T’IZAAAAHSS!!"

VROOOOM!!!

And all for nought.  You took it all away from us, Israel.  And you’re going to PAY.

You see in the above illustration (spotted in the grocery check-out line by Thers from Whiskey Ashes) what has happened as the result of my losing my temper.  (Gawd, my skin looks sandpaper in that picture!  Like lizard scales or something!)  And what about them calling me 60 million years old!  I’m 38, dammit!!  THIRTY.  EIGHT.  And not a day over, bitchez!!

I’m sure that all of you out there were just as disappointed as I was to learn that Pammy’s Excellent Adventure had been cancelled.  One helpful commenter at TBogg’s place suggested the following:

She should go anyway. There’s so much she could do to show Israel what a good friend she is. Hang around, be there in case it needs her. Show up at Israel’s office right at lunch time, saying she was just in the neighborhood and do you want to grab a quick bite. Call Israel several times a day and leave emotional messages on its answering machine. Go to clubs where Israel hangs out just in case it wants to talk to her. Sleep in her car outside Israel’s house. Break in and boil Israel’s pet bunny in the kitchen.
–deNoVa

Sigh.  True.

I guess I could attempt to buoy up our spirits by doing a detailed review of her latest vlog post, the one that caused TBogg to say , "I’d like to thank Watertiger for the link, but I’m waiting to see if my testicles will ever come back out of hiding."

Jane was putting peer-pressure on me this morning to do exactly that.  "You’ll get the Wolcott link, Rex," she said, dangling the bait, "You know you love it when Wolcott links you.  And he can’t resist when it comes to Pam.  Go on, do it!  Whaddya, scared?  Everybody’s doing it, Rex…"

But I set my jaw, dug in my heels and Just Said No, Thank You.  I would love to score another Wolcott link (to go with my Gilliard link from last night!  W00t!!), but it’s just not worth having to watch the clip the whole way through.  I’d need a full HazMat suit and a pair of giant tongs. When Pam vlogs, she’s bad, but when she vlogs drunk, she becomes one of the horsemen of the apocalypse.  I tried to watch it.  I struggled manfully along for about 30 seconds, but when she started dancing and rapping, and then called her fish-tank a "culture of life", I started throwing up blood.  It was just too much.  I think I’d rather spend a season in Gitmo than a night drinking with Pam Atlas.

But anyway, Israel, I’m going to remember this.  The next time you want to send your drunk cousin up here to Georgia to dry out, I’m cancelling.  Forget it.  I’m having Kobe, my press secretary, call your ass and cancel.  Forget it.  We had a deal and you blew it.  Thanks for nothing.

Sincerely,

T.Rex, Esq.

P.S. I’m telling your girlfriend what you did at Egypt’s bachelor party.  Yeah, I’m that pissed. 

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