Sunday, August 20, 2006

Cry Baby Cry

Make your mother sigh

Eleanor Clift gets her cry baby on early. For the fall elections, and possibly the '08 Prez contest. Repubs can't possibly win a fair fight, in a fair election. There has to be something afoot, manipulation or skullduggery? People just don't vote for Repubs, on the issues. Try as hard as the Dems do to fabricate one of their own, pull one out of their posterior. Or hypnotize themselves into a freenzy with virtual and atomic fifth column marches against the larger population.(Yes that's right ..... Bush WON. As fictional a word as the Libs know not, with daily disinfo breakfasts of electronic voting bugaboos). And well, at least she could come up with something new? October Surprise? - - - - Really, wow ..... how ummm original! (ride that dead horse, girl).

War is here Eleanor, in all its bloody splendor. And it will remain for years to come. Repub or Dem. Peacenik or Hawk. Militant Radical Islam couldn't give a flying leap at a Krispy Kreme who is in office. Or who/how many voted for them. Blood is all they know, all they will know. Until such time as they drown in their own. More will be shed. More lives lost, destroyed, tossed in the refuse pile on Militant Radical Islam's march to the global caliphate.

It matters not a whit our words. Or even our thoughts. Whether we agree, or disagree. They will come crawling in the night. Lay quietly asleep in your warm bed Eleanor. Dreaming of puppies and kittens, and summer carnivals. And ice cream picnics. Ignore reality whole.

We will all survive the onslaught of the insect horde together. Or die in fragments of a society torn apart. Your artificial tears, for your artificial construct notwithstanding. Me, I will not surrender on my knees. I will not offer my head up under the sword of the Islamist's defiling of life. This life I cherish. In all its complexity. And its sometime difficulty. Chersih your self deception, Eleanor. Hold dear to it. Do not let it go. Take comfort in it. The truth be too great a burden for you, too much a horror. Though it not be of our making, or choosing.

Some of us actually have peeked out from under the covers. We are not crying in the dark, at the evil Rethugs. We are simply shining a light in the dark. At monsters. Not fabrications. Not lies. Foul life forms feeding on the beauty and joy that is life. Consuming real human beings with a lust beyond many's desire to comprehend. They are real Dear Eleanor. Real monsters.

But enough scary bedtime stories. Back under the covers for you. Nighty night, sweet dreams.


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