Never underestimate the desire of Congressman Dana Rohrabacher--Orange County's senior career politician--to man his spot on the front lines of the lunatic fringe.
A hilariously self-declared "patriot" who carefully avoided any military service when he was eligible for combat during a time of war, Rohrabacher loves to endear himself to conspiracy-toting right wingers.
For months, the Costa Mesa Republican has been screaming about stolen U.S. elections--not Gore vs. Bush, mind you--but races where unnamed voters cheat unnamed GOP candidates in unnamed states from unnamed public offices. His aim isn't non-partisan statesmanship. He's backing election eve, Republican-written, voter eligibility restrictions aimed squarely at likely Democratic Party supporters.
(You would think he'd be more knowledgeable about election stealing given that he and his wife Rhonda were involved in one of Orange County's biggest election fraud scams in the 1990s.)
Now Rohrabacher--who hilariously, there's that word again, touted bumbling actor Arnold Schwarzenegger as California's savior--is backing Mitt Romney as the nation's savior.
On Sunday, he used his Twitter account to imply that President Barack Obama--king of the drone assassinations--is a slave to radical Islam leaders.
He wrote that it would be "outrageous if"--note the cowardly "if"--Obama is kissing "rad Islam feet by intimidating any one using free speech 2 criticize Islam," a reference to the Southern California convicted felon who produced a lame, anti-Allah film winning recent international newspaper headlines.
Rohrabacher may have gotten his bright idea about slavery after Romney openly declared during the Republican presidential primaries that if elected he'd call "Bibi"--Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu--to learn exactly how to craft U.S. policy in the Middle East.
UPDATE: Minutes after this story was posted Rohrabacher lost his cool in responding to a critic on Twitter by accusing the person of holding a "discusting (sic) anti-freedom view."
R. Scott Moxley’s award-winning investigative journalism has touched nerves for two decades. An angry congressman threatened to break Moxley’s knee caps. A dirty sheriff promised his critical reporting was irrelevant and then landed in prison. Corporate crooks won’t take his calls. Murderous gangsters mad-dogged him in court. The U.S. House of Representatives debated his work. Pusillanimous cops have left hostile messages using fake names. Federal prosecutors credited his stories for the arrest of a doctor who sold fake medicine to dying patients. And a frantic state legislator literally caught sleeping with lobbyists sprinted down state capital hallways to evade his questions in Sacramento.