Monday, May 17, 2010

Barking at birds ... lost in the fog.

The complete and utter decimation of the once vaunted fourth estate. Now permanently wrapped, clothed in the uniforms of the fifth column. Is sickening. Now so confused, unable to distinguish between fact and fiction. Unable to cease cranking out partisan political propaganda. Unable to stop bald faced lying. Filthy lies. Disgusting lies. Filthy, disgusting human beings.

And the parade of lies increases. Every minute ... of every day.

If you want your facial features rearranged? Then sure ... go ahead ... call me a racist. To .. my .. face. Call me a Nazi. Don't care that you slime slander and libel, good, kind, decent folk? Americans. Then just maybe a dose of reality. Might awaken you ... from your insidious slumber. Snap you out, of your moronicity. In your current, locked, auto-pilotted course.



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Hiding behind your idiocy. Proud. Announcing. Heralding insanity. That Arizona SB1070 is something other than a mere restatement of Federal law. And only a simple clarification of local mechanical enforcement. In lieu of leaky bags of puss, doing absolutely nothing. In a time of quite dangerous, and rampant lawlessness.

Or shading, misdirecting all of the recent Islamic terror attacks, on American soil. Unbelievably ... by both MSM, and the mooselimb junta in DC (what a surprise).

These sea birds lost. Thousands of miles inland, in the fog. Squeaking, sounding for water, where none exists. While dogs respond a'barking in the night, to their piercing high pitched squeals.

We have entered a place heretofore known only once before. In the history of humankind. The rise of the National Socialists, in Germany, in the 1930's. Aided and abetted by a vile, odious, virulent, and all powerful propaganda machine.

CBS, CNN, MSNBC, AP, NYT's, L.A. Times, PBS/NPR are nothing but, and only. ENEMIES OF THE COUNTRY. Willfully shatting upon it's citizens. In defiance of reality. In unshakable support of the fascist regime. Smiling, joyous shredation of the Constitution.

Chipping away at the foundation. Of calm. Peace. Reason. Profound derangement. Happy defilement of sensibility. There will be no morning wake up call for these insects. November Second. They too ... will be crushed underfoot. In 169 days. Five and a half months.

Hard to say exactly what price we are indeed paying for such lunacy. We can clearly see the fault lines, the fractures, the major seismic shifts and upheavals. Feel the disturbance, the unsettled earth atremble. Unease gripping us all. World markets twitching, convulsing ... wildly. People afraid. For the very first time in their lives.

Our world has gone well and truly mad. Aided by traitors. In media. Traitors in Congress. And traitors in the White House.

T R A I T O R S.

We shall loudly, forcefully reclaim this government on November Second. Remove it from out the hands of the mooselimb junta. We shall then set a course back to terra firma. Restore liberty once again. But we will NEVER lend anything, other than a leery eye, to these traitors, ever again. We will examine in specific detail, the method and means they are currently employing in the destruction of our country.

And we shall distribute the appropriate comeuppance then. But between now and November Second, patience will wear thin.

Until then, if perchance you happen to admire your face? I would advise you media scum, and members of the libturd nation. To seriously consider whom you so casually deign to sh*t upon (in face) [nice guy that I am]. Lest your's not be so admirable, then. I'm not interested in promoting rage. Quite the opposite. Not even selling it. But if these putrid pieces of pig sh*t ... forcefully insist upon buying? Over, and over. And over again. Well ... we'll just hafta phone up the warehouse, and arrange for special delivery.

Woyd uppity.



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We didn't start the fire. Doesn't mean we will sit ... idly by. And watch. While America, is incinerated, by lunatics. Me, I'd wholeheartedly recommend putting down that f*cking torch ... unless you actually want to get burned.

Is that too complex an equation?

Or maybe ... I'm justa dawg, barkin, at strange birds, on a foggy night.

In one hundred and sixty nine days, we will find out.

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