Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Last Clear Chance ...

Hope and Change

In legalese, a term. Describing ... say two vehicles, approaching a blind intersection. One, zipping along at warp speed (Scotty). The other, traveling at a normal rate, and with the green. But just before enterring the intersection, the second vehicle becomes aware of the first. And even though it has the green, can stop, can avoid the accident. Last clear chance (like the Repub's in the House, pushing the debt ceiling raise through. Instead of quashing it).

Yes, people are afraid, angry, upset. Seething. Watching our world being destroyed. Right before our very eyes. Everyone gathering, with raised sticks at hand. And in the unease, now some are beginning to poke ... their own eyes out (some movie patron, to another: "cracker"). I can't stop them. Merely ask, plead ... please reconsider the preoccupation with one craggy, deformed misshapen tree. People, the whole freakin' tinderbox forest's 'bout to go up. 'Bout to explode. Boom. Into global conflagration. The likes of which we, and the world, have never seen before.

Race? Discussions thereof. F*ck that ... f*ck it ... f*ck those who purvey it. Who live it, who fling that excrement [with wild abandon (liberal turdmonkeys)]. Don't buy into it. Not even a freakin' nickel's worth. Race is the left's entire playbook. Empty minds, filled with pure sh*t. Leave all discussions of race, to them. Let them wallow in their own filth. Do NOT play along. Cede the entire field to them. To enjoy alone. It is their game. Tis a race ... to the bottom. The left is consumed by its own mindless (hyperventilated/blue faced) hatred of (fiscally conservative) Repubs/gramma/whitey [and their terrorist babies (in strollers at Tea Party gatherings)]. It is their all, their everything.

Let them eat their odious lies [on November 6, 2012, we're gunna shove 'em ... all the way down their f*cking throats (yeah we are)]. Scummy lie after scummy lie ... and then some more (I said eat b*tch!) Chucklehead's ginormous birthday bash? In (the fetid swamps of) Chicago, never even took place ['cordin to MSM (go ahead ... ignore the 75 year old, silver haired lady pilot [in the balsa wood special], the F-16's nearly vaporized over Illinois)]. Absurd. All those lovely, kumbaya singing freedom fighters, taking over the whole of the Middle East? Nothin' to worry about, cuz the Islamists, why they've simply disappeared (poof). Ludicrous lies. A giant mountain, every day [the messiah will be reelected, cuz everyteeng's still Boosh's fault, yes Sir (or is it the seismograph's in Japan?)]. Filth. Real, felonious corruption [new (fantasy) C.A.F.E. standards]. Real Treason.

Roll with pigs people, and you will get slopped. I guarantee. Stay the f*ck away from these stanky squealers. Leave the canned worms on the shelf (let your nose guide you). This is our last clear chance, before impact. We might not get another. This is it. I mean it. Do NOT be distracted. WE 've got a country to save (yeah ... we do). Yes, keep your eye on the trigger (any and all triggers, all 'round the globe).

Do. But please (wit sugah on top), don't forget about the BIG bomb that it is wired to (sparky). Just might save our country's life. Quit your cryin' [and your rubber/glue finger pointing (that mean man called me a cracker). Buck up. Lace your boots (tight ... real f*cking tight). And get'a marching (hey elmo, there's a call on line two, some cat in Montana. Sez his name's Custer ... and he could use a little help).



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