Monday, September 12, 2011

My ... what exquisite excrement

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"Fake heroes like Bernie Kerik, Rudy Giuliani, and, yes, George W. Bush raced to cash in on the horror." [ed: because after all, it indeed was Buraq Hussein/12th mahdi (and exalted leader of seal team six). Who killed Osama (with his bare hands yo)] .

"And then the attack was used to justify an unrelated war the neocons (ed: those damn fookin Joos, again!) wanted to fight, for all the wrong reasons." [ed: blood for oil ... blood for oil! (unlike Libya, where as many as 30k-50k possible casualties, have now been reported)].

Sorry Glenn (we still like ya), but I will NOT subvert. I will NOT sublimate. Nor transfer. Nor misplace. My anger, my rage. No, I won't let it destroy me, neither (tyvm). But it is fair to say, even accurate. That I'll no longer measure every single one of my actions. Y'all can put on panties each day, if you so please? Sorry, I'll pass. I'll make that wager ... the next piece of filth ... to rain shite on my existence? I simply have had enough. Yes, I have. Be mice, go ahead. Live life on bended knee, if that be you, what do I really care.

For me, THE TIME IS NOW, the day is here. And I'm standing. I'm not surrendering. I'm not rolling over and playing dead. The rest of you, do as you please, as you see fit. I'm gunna get me some pinkish teeth marks, imprinted ... on my knuckles (or elbow in a pinch). If you're an apologist for Islamists? For commies? Fascists? Wanna call me a racist? Or of course, you are a propagandist for the Reich Ministry, a Willing Executioner for Hitler ... go 'head ... introduce yourself. I could use some cheering up [I sure could (even if I be cooling my jets afters)]. Lemme Thank You personally in advance, for your donation (1-800

I've been largely even keel, lo the last five years. Yeah, I have. But there is nothing reasonable about cowardice. In the face of treason. Take your lace gloves off b*tches. Rock and roll [or not (but if so, you just might want to step aside. If you be fumbling with a French cut undergarment, twisting its way up your keister)]. Don't call me the 800lb gorilla in the room. No. Call me the 800lb gorilla ... in your fookin face.

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Word up.


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