“Ground Zero Mosque supporters: doesn’t it stab you in the heart, as it does ours throughout the heartland? Peaceful Muslims, pls refudiate.”

-Sarah Palin on Twitter

So a few liberal mediaites say I’m intolerant against Muslims, but since when is anti-heart-stabbing intolerant? If it is, then I’m the most intolerable woman in the Republic.

Clerical extremists tried telling me that it’s not a mosque, but an exercise facility where everyone can go, but what of the poor Muslismist women with funny clothes sewed into their skin? If the path to extremism isn’t paved with heat exhaustion, then tell me why so many extremists come out of the desert?

Would an intolerant person consider those faucets of truth? Of course not, which is why I’ve decided, as a professional toleránte, to shed some light on a handful of other heart-stabbers. It’s about time we rise up and say, “No more.” I will not let that demigod president ruin my heartland.

The Mexican Mocha

The mocha allegorifies American resilience. After ridding the harbor of tea, the only crates left were those containing coffee and chocolate. Our founding fathers revered the mocha. In fact, there was nothing Thomas Jefferson loved more after a hard day at Monticello than making a mocha with his friend Sally.

But, now, in “local” coffee shops across the Republic, our country’s sacred drink is becoming dangerously Mexicanized. Seeing Mexican Mocha underneath Mocha is adverse to the American system.

We need to eradicate the Mexican Mocha, scrape the words off every coffee house sign until only beautiful fluorescence shines through, and if people still crave its cheap, chocolaty spice, then let owners sell the drinks at a fraction of the cost, behind the restaurant, where I don’t have to see it.

Hospital Nurseries

When the mama grizzly hears its baby grizzly roaring, it knows what it’s trying to say. And I’m no different. When I hear a baby baby crying, I know what it means. Take little Tripp, who when he cries is really saying, “Levi’s a terrible father. Can’t one of your tea friends just get rid of him?”

And when Tripp was crying at the hospital, he was saying, “Hey, is it true there’s sick people here? I’m scared of sick people. I don’t wanna be sick people.” Imagine that, a little baby already so scared. But babies, you see, are most vulnerable when they’re babies, and to bring them into the Republic beside the same people we’re trying to rid the Republic of, well, that’s a hate-seeking missile.

So I’m calling on all you peace-seeking dead and dying: Please leave our hospitals. Your presence is an unnecessary provocation to legally insured babies, who’re scared enough as it is, being born during a dictatorship. (And if dying people refuse to leave, let’s kick ’em out! It’s the only way to make sure our babies never die.)

Bottled Water at Gas Station Convenience Stores

Such a big deal’s been made about taking BP’s oil out of Mexico’s water – which, if what I hear is correct, shouldn’t be drunken anyway – but no one’s had a hoot to say about the water infecting our oil stations.

It’s a two-way street, Mr. Resident, and water’s caused oil a whole lot of mess. Heck, water won’t even mergify with oil. You put the two together and water says, “Nuh-uh.” (Talk about intolerant.)

But of course the liberal media never covers that story. So it’s up to us, common sense conservatives, to help the average-joe BPs of America reconstitute the water threat.

Let’s take to our local BP station and grab an armful of water bottles, pour ’em out in the gutter and make a pile of the empties, douse ’em in some BP and toss on a match.

If the liberal media appears and starts clamoring that black smoke is harmful to our air, take a deep breath of that supposedly tainted air, which, trust me, is no thicker than grizzly fur, and, in between coughs, ask ’em who’s intolerant now.