In the post-American Commonwealth, secret commando troops have invaded the chaotic old US on a bizarre nocturnal mission: to dig up and abscond with the buried remains of legislators Emanuel Celler, Philip Hart and Ted Kennedy.
Hart and Celler sponsored and Kennedy vigorously promoted The 1965 Immigration Act that has resulted in turning the US into, in Ms Coulter's pithy phrase, "a Third World hellhole." A Jew and two Irish Catholics, poster children for vindicating the Nativists' fears, this ungrateful troika responded to their White Protestant host country's hospitality by eviscerating it.
In my bloody-minded fantasy, their bones are dumped into a huge septic tank linking all the toilets at the new post-American national mall, so that a ritual part of every family's pilgrimage trip to the new capital in celebration of their independence from the decaying madhouse empire is the pleasure of pissing and taking shit on the bones of these three vile traitors.
When I think of this scenario, my response echoes that of my friend Big G, a woman prim on the outside but not so much on the inside, who, after watching a film in which Hannibal Lecter serves a bad guy part of his own brain, sauteed in a chafing dish, opined: "That was very satisfying."
*She's clear that her book is against all immigration, not just illegal immigration. In an interview with Gavin McInnes, she makes that plain, saying that even the legal immigrants --with their resistance to assimilation, their high use of welfare services, etc-- "are no day at the beach."