Fresh from the wilds of Berkely, CA, Dr. Harvey Streelburg, noted moonbatologist, world famous for his ongoing first-person anthropological moonbat immersion research. You may recognize Dr. Streelburg as the scientist that "went native" in the controversial documentary "Moonbats in the Mist." Before we go any further, I'd like to point out that Dr. Streelburg's foray into the moonbat world was purely motivated by scientific curiosity, and the charges that he actively took part in the firebombing of the Lockheed Martin plant were never brought to trial. Welcome, Dr. Streelburg.

Dr. Streelburg: Peace. (giggles)

Also joining me (for real), from the famous blog The Politburo Diktat, is the Commissar, fresh from upstate New York ...

The Commissar: Man, it's Moscow!

INDC Bill: What?

The Commissar: I say, I fly in from Moscow, good comrade!

INDC Bill: Ah, yes ... Moscow. Well, I'm certain that your expertise in Communism will be of great assistance on today's safari.

The Commissar: Proud revolutionary gathering!

INDC Bill: Yes, well ...

INDC Bill: And finally (also for real), from the blog Protein Wisdom, our resident expert on mental illness and illegal drug abuse, Jeff Goldstein! Welcome, Jeff!

Jeff Goldstein: Michael Moore is fat.

INDC Bill: Ok, then. Let's get started.

In order to carefully observe the moonbats without being spotted and despoiling their natural behavior, we fashioned this oversized moonbat blind, carefully woven from all-natural hemp fiber. If you'd all like to get in, we can begin our surreptitious documentation of the swarm ...

INDC: Alright. Everyone have a good line of sight? Right. It's a bit early here, quite wet, quite rainy, but we are still seeing a reasonably robust gathering of the swarm. Note the orthodox moonbat peace iconography, not something commonly seen in these avant garde days of "Fuck Bushitler" profanity ...

The Commissar: Where is Hammer & Sickle? No Red Star?

Dr. Streelburg: Patience, man. The fiesta is just starting to bump n' grind (giggle) ... the reds come out late, dude ... (giggle)

Jeff Goldstein: It's like a giant glazed ham, only instead of ham, it's idiots in rain slickers carrying stupid signs. Where are the pineapple slices? You can't have ham without pineapple slices.

INDC: Ah! Here we have something that may be up your alley, good Commissar!

The Commissar: Bah! Communism Lite.

Jeff Goldstein: "Does holding this sign make my ass look fat?"

Dr. Streelburg: That fuckin' dude is on the Berkeley City Council, man. He just straight dropped an ordinance that establishes interspecies voting rights in city elections. Mark my words, dudes, within five years we're gonna have a fuckin' stray dog for a mayor. Heh-heh-huh.

INDC: Ah, look over here. We've got George Bush ... no, no ... wait, that's a mask, yes, it's a George Bush facsimile ... explaining his sign's flair to what looks to be a ... Macroglossius lunarius commonus and a ... Macroglossius lunarius ... caecus, or "Blinded Common Moonbat." It's important to distinguish between the caecus and the caecigenus, as the caecigenus is born blind and compensates with acutely sensitive radar. In contrast, this fellow looks as though he may have been struck blind, likely via the patchouli retinopathy that I've discussed in the previous series. I can't quite make out what they are saying ...

The Commissar: "C'mon, lemme have a hit."

Jeff Goldstein: "Check it out: If you rearrange the letters in 'Abu Ghraib,' it spells, like, 'armageddon' and stuff. Except, without the 'n'. And there's an extra 'b' in there, too, I think. But still..."

INDC: Yes, perhaps. Notice the rather sweet caretaker relationship, very common among these giving, empathic creatures. They have a rather poignant mythology about this common condition; it's said that ... when a moonbat loses his sight, "he no longer has to look into the snarling face of oppression."

INDC: Here's a fantastic example of a common moonbat defense mechanism, she's playing dead, hoping that this aggressive scientist will leave her be, though ... she doesn't seem like a full-blown ...

Jeff Goldstein: Fuck your sister.

INDC: Now, Jeff !

Dr. Streelburg: No, fuck you man! Fuck you! And fuck that chimpyshrubfucker that sent her sister off to an oppressive war for oil n' empire, man!

INDC: Dr. Streelburg?!

Dr. Streelburg: Fucking nevermind, man. Just neverfuckingmind, you know?!

INDC: Right.

INDC: Ah! Here we have a moonbat recruiting station, proof that not all moonbats are born, rather, many, if not most, are made.

The Commissar: Da, 2004 Useful Idiot recruiting drive is below quota.

Jeff Goldstein: Fuck your sister.

INDC: I tell you, there's no way that you could get me to get involved with ...

INDC: Well ... actually ... it doesn't look quite ... so bad ...

Dr. Streelburg: I know, right? Moonbat chicks are fuckin' hot, man, hot like ... like ... heat... youknowhatimsayin? (giggles) Easy, too, man. Bagfulla E and a Jim Jones smiley and the good Doctor is in, ifyaknowwhatimsayin ... (giggles)

The Commissar: Nyet. Too clean-shaven for Commissar's taste.

Jeff Goldstein: Still no pineapple slices? Pass.

INDC: Alrighty, here we have an excellent example of rudimentary moonbat logic ... It's important for the layman to realize, if you ever encounter a moonbat in person, do not attempt debate! The circular logic on this poster alone will take your head clean off your shoulders!

The Commissar: Is it "AH-boo guh-ray-ibb" or "ah-BOO gray-ub?"

Jeff Goldstein: Mmmm. Like to put you on a plate and sop you up with a biscuit...!

INDC: Yes, yes. Fear is a mind-killer; fear, the Gom Jabar and copious quantities of marijuana, my middle-aged moonbat beauty.

Dr. Streelburg: That's some fuckin' truth to power, man, truth to ... POWER! Bam-POW! Ta-da! Ta-da! How you like me na! Dude, I totally gotta remember that.

INDC: Yes ... what do you think that this gent is trying to communicate, Dr. Goldstein?

Jeff Goldstein: "Do you think a beard would make me look more, y'know, protesty...?"

INDC: Indeed.

INDC: Here we've got some more rudimentary logic from this adorable little "ancient mini."

Dr. Streelburg: I'll tell you what's fuckin' rudimentary, man, the idea that bombs and guns and ... bombs solve anything! G-ma drops the wisdom of many moons, brother!

The Commissar: (chuckles) "Five bucks and this stupid sign is yours. My feet hurt."

Jeff Goldstein: "I once had Peter Fonda inside me."

INDC: Jeff, are you referring to her ... or ...

Jeff Goldstein: Her, obviously. Notice the quotation marks. When I use quotation marks, I'm captioning. Anyway, when I bang Peter Fonda, I'm the one doing the driving.

INDC: Oh, now this is quite annoying. How in Hades are we supposed to be able to translate a sign written in Jawa?! I should have phoned Dr. Shackleford ...

The Commissar: "So, this how we apply for a Fulbright scholarship?"

Jeff Goldstein: Translation: "Free Dirty Danny"

INDC: Doubtful. Dr. Streelburg?

Dr. Streelburg: Well, my Pali is pretty durn rusty and shit, you know, but when you've seen the words "Dirty Zionist Pig-Dog" once, you've seen it a thousand times, you know? (giggles) I can't make out the rest, though the last bit says ... 'kill' ... 'the' ... (squints) ... 'Jooos.' Yeah, that last series of characters is definitely 'Jooos,' man.

INDC: Remarkable. Considering the economy of characters, quite an efficient language, I'd say.

INDC: Ah, a DC moonbat regular, our old friend with the mask ...

Dr. Streelburg: Crusading Smirky McBushitler! I'll fuckin' kill 'im, man, fuckin' ...

INDC: Dr. Streelburg! Dr. Streelburg! Someone stop him! Ah ... damn. Well, it appears that we've lost the good Dr. Heh, no doubt off to do some, uh, undercover research.

INDC: Let's take a closer look at his iconography ... fascinating.

The Commissar: Again - where is Hammer & Sickle?! No Red Star?!

INDC: More crafty moonbat deception, here. As an expert in the field, I can assure our dear viewer that moonbats are not in fact related to the monarch butterfly or the Galopogos snapping turtle.

Jeff Goldstein: That's further proof that Tyne Daly should never wear stretchpants.

INDC: Looking a bit closer at this randy fellow, I think he's caught a peek at me through the blind and ... yes, he's got very kind eyes, now doesn't he?

The Commissar: Commissar likes his umbrella.

Jeff Goldstein: "I once had Peter Fonda inside me."

INDC: Let's zoom in and have a closer look at her sign ... ok, ridiculous. Here once again, the viewer should be clear on the fact that moonbats are in no way related to bears, tigers, grass, deer, dirt, seals, flowers, rivers, pandas, bald eagles or wolves.

Jeff Goldstein: "...one tin soldier rides away..."*

INDC: She seems rather happy about it, doesn't she? Very odd for a commonus.

The Commissar: Ah, at last, Minitruth!

Jeff Goldstein: "Kind of off-topic here, but that really was the best burrito I've ever had..."

INDC: I think this fellow has the idea, that's more like it! Give 'em Hell chappie!

The Commissar: Da, "love," but just don't invade his personal space.

Jeff Goldstein: "Feh. Burritos are the rolled-foodstuff of colonialist aggression. I'll have nothing to do with burritos."

INDC: Here we've got some very typical moonbat behavior; the majority of the species is against war profiteering. However ...

The Commissar: Death to war profiteers!

Jeff Goldstein: "I'm neutral on the whole burrito thing. I mean, I think both sides make valid points. On the one hand, burritos are indeed the rolled, cheese-and-meat stuffed food of capitalist agression. But at the same time, they're remarkably tasty..."

INDC: ... many are ok with the fact that Weird Al seems to be war-protest profiteering ...

The Commissar: Da, death to CAPITALIST war profiteers!

Jeff Goldstein: "Me? I'm more of a tostada guy."

INDC: Now, this is quite interesting. These military families are mixing with the moonbat community quite peacefully. This is somewhat strange, however, especially since ...

INDC: ... many of the more aggressive moonbat species are rather adamant in their support for the forces that are killing their children.

The Commissar: But not in October.

Jeff Goldstein: "Whatever. Now, somebody mentioned tostadas...?"

INDC: For example, this moonbat's sign advocates that enlisted men shoot their officers, citing it as the only "proven method" of successful resistance to war. Make no mistake: some moonbat species are far from benign. All of the protestors seem to want to "Bring the Troops Home Now." Unfortunately, some would seem to prefer that it be in body bags.

The Commissar: Khorosho! Just like Kronstadt sailors before Winter Palace.

Jeff Goldstein: "...one tin soldier rides away..."*

INDC: This is a particularly important scene. I often get letters from angry partisans that berate me for casually throwing around terms like "commie" and "tin-foil hat brigade." Well, here I present proof that these assertions are not fictional hyperbole!

The Commissar: What rank is this comrade? He is rank, though.

INDC: Yes, the smell of patchouli, BO and damp wool is a bit strong in this weather ...

Jeff Goldstein: "I once had Peter Fonda inside me. Only he made me call him Yuri, for some reason."

Jeff Goldstein: "He made you call him Yuri? Bastard. He made me call him Yentl."

INDC: Ah yes ... gay rights and the Iraqi Resistance go together like peanut butter and chocolate! Mmmmmmmmmm!

Jeff Goldstein: "This way to the burritos, men! And to some Peter Fonda man-love, if that's your bag."

INDC: Jeff, what in God's name are you talking about?

Jeff Goldstein: ...

INDC: Right. Moving along ...

INDC: Ah, here we see something commonly known as the "moonbat rapture" which occurs at the end of a "vision quest." Judging by the age of this fellow, I have little doubt that he's retained the ability to embark on a hallucinatory journey without the aid of exogenous substances; merely closing his eyes will suffice. Amazing!

Jeff Goldstein: "They weren't lying about those burritos. Like heaven rolled into six or seven warm tortillas."

INDC: Ah! A celebrity moonbat among us! It's Rob Reiner!

The Commissar: Marty, that slogan went to eleven a long time ago.

Jeff Goldstein: "You know who likes burritos? That Sally Struthers, that's who. I once saw her eat fifteen burritos and drink a pitcher of Grand Marnier margaritas. I shit you not."

INDC: The primitive paranormal beliefs of moonbats are quite interesting; most seem to have the unshakeable belief that they can channel the will of genocidal dictators. Very strange.

Jeff Goldstein: Um, Hitler would've made you into a lampshade, you Gypsy treehumper.

INDC: Commissar, where are you going? Commissar? Commissar?

The Commissar: Must ask why she neglects Stalin.

INDC: Alright, then. At least he'll blend in.

INDC: Now, what is our friend in the technicolor dream coat singing?

Jeff Goldstein: "...one tin soldier rides away..."*

INDC: Ah, pay close attention! These mother-daughter moonbats prove that the species can look relatively normal. Be very careful, lest you date, marry or, God forbid ... breed ... with one.

Jeff Goldstein: Fuck Bush? Wow. That's quite the imperative, you misogynistic ankle grabber.

INDC: Oh my ... grand-ma-ma?!! Uh, moving on!

Jeff Goldstein: "At Woodstock, I painted my body with honey and wore daisies over my nipples. My friends called me 'Bunny the love warren.'"

INDC: I say, moving on!

INDC: Uh oh ... this Desmodius marus navius has spotted us ... and she is angry! Come on baby, hate the game, not the play-er ... Jeff? Would you kindly load the tranquilizer in case she intends to charge?

Jeff Goldstein: "Nobody offered us any burritos."

INDC: Ah ... she's confused! Moonbats have an exaggerated affinity for symbolism, and poor attention to detail, thus ...

Jeff Goldstein: "Wait, that's just a mask, ain't it...?"

INDC: Oh ... she's figured it out. Confrontation has been avoided.

INDC: My God, these Desmodius lunarias quiritatios will not cease their infernal screeching! (sigh) Such is the nature of this beautiful subspecies. Something tells me that the poor fellow on the right has to listen to a great deal more of that caterwauling back at the den, eh?

Jeff Goldstein: "Haitians deserve burritos, too!"

INDC: NOT an official member of the Greatest Generation, I'd say ... further proof that even male moonbats can live to a relatively robust, ripe old age. Believe it or not, this male is actually only about 40 years old; the repeated "dream quests," the back-to-back ingestion of depressants and stimulants, and the decades-long application of patchouli all take a startling oxidative toll.

Jeff Goldstein: "Show us your tits, hippy girlies!"

INDC: Well, I'm tuckered out, Dr. Streelburg and the Commissar are gone, and the moonbats are off to Donald Rumsfeld's house, where they'll likely be gunned down by the Secretary's killer robot sentinels. I'd like to thank two of my colleagues in absentia ...

Jeff Goldstein: "Wait, there are no burritos here..."

INDC: ... and Jeff from the fantastic blog, Protein Wisdom! Thanks Jeff! Jeff? Ah, well. The beer and burritos are gone, and thus, so is Jeff. Until the next gathering of the swarm, this is your faithful host, signing off.

FIN

If you'd like to learn more about moonbats, be sure and read the following pieces by INDC:

INDC Protests: International Answer Protests in DC

INDC Protests: ANSWER, MASSF and Jews United Against Zionism

INDC Protests: Moonbattery and Media Chicanery Outside the Supreme Court

INDC Science Series: Seasonal Moonbat IMF Migration, Part One

INDC Q & A: Moonbat IMF Migration, Part One

INDC Science Series: Seasonal Moonbat IMF Migration, Part Two

INDC Protests: "March for Women's Lives," Part One

INDC Protests: "March for Women's Lives," Part Two

INDC Scientific Field Report: The Shy Peeing Moonbat

INDC Moonbat Quiz