Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Blitzer the Kapo debater


Blitzer, the Kapo debater
had a very big hook nose.
And if you ever saw him,
you would even say it sucks up blo.

All of the other Reich Ministers
used to laugh and call him names.
They never let poor Blitzer
join in any caliphate games.

Then one foggy Ramadan Eve
Moe, Ham, and Ed came to say:
"Blitzer with your nose packed so tight,
won't you guide our attack on Mumbai tonight?"

Then all the goat f*ckers loved him
as they shouted out with glee,
Blitzer the Kapo debater,
you'll go down in infamy!

It all reads like fiction, bad fiction. The complete and total overthrow, of representational Constitutional government, in America. By an Islamist traitor, successfully masquerading as an American.

A political thriller beyond any credible belief (what so ever). Rotten tomato time, raspberries, boo's ... we want our freakin money back (b*tch)! [Back in the day, you could in fact approach the theater manager. As you were walking out of/on the film, in the first fifteen minutes. Telling him it stinks (usuallly, they already knew). And more an likely, you would've been blithely handed a pair of passes for a return (for a different flick, at a future date).

Cept this sheet, it ain't fiction. It's real. All too.

Which brings us to .... last night's debate. And leel Wolfie Blitzer. Gotta give that filthy, stanknasty piece'a Kapo crap credit. Best debate so far. Period [no, certainly, I didn't watch them all (TYVM!). I have watched a couple, and sampled a few more. And perused a number of the following morning's post mortems, as well].

But, in case you're thinking you've awaken on the wrong side of the virtual universe? I'll now disabuse you of that notion .... Leel Wolfie, K.O.K. (King of the Kapo's), had ten (count em) immediate previous examples. Of how NOT to do it (pretty fookin easy, if ya ask me). All the talking head clowns, in all of the other debates. Trying mightily, straining ... to butt f*ck the Repub's. Every which way [think say Judy Collins, warbling ... send in the clowns (... butt f*cking pscyho clowns, there ought to be clowns, send in the clowns)].

OK elmo, we get it [you thought Wolf did alright (and yeah, he did have help. The octet finally behaving, for the first time)]. Bbbbut what was his motivation? Easy Grasshopper, nuttin tuit. Ego. His ego demanded (and wouldn't take no for an answer), he get out of bed. One time. One. And actually do an honest day's work. NOT for the sake thereof (tyvm). But to preserve his ego. Gaining recognition for a good debate (in contrast to every one, that came before).

That's it. Nothing more to see. That ain't already been said ... [bout the oober Kapo owner of a chain of crematoria, catering to a very select clientele (rabid frothing Islamists). Helping them to dispose of the planet's twelve million, remaining Jews].

Wolf Blitzer conquers Jerusalem

CNN .... The Most Trusted Name in Shoes

Live Coverage of the Death of Anna Nicole Smith

This is War!

Butt f*cking *ss to mouth maggot!!!

CNN Remembers 9/11

The debate's participants? Well ... who cares what I think. Three hundred forty eight days. Until the election. What happens between now and then? Anyone's guess. Only Beelzebub knows. Truly. What happens here at home. What happens around the (now green sash wrapped) globe. But, since you're here, I'll tellya.

CAIN: I thought Mr. Cain pretty much gave away his candidacy, last night. Equivocating (out of the gate), when asked 'bout Israel/Iran/nukes/war. No firmament, no clarity, no majesty. Almost stammering, seeming lethargic. As if MSM/Reich Ministry/libturd nation had indeed succeeded. In crushing his spirit (ed: no secret mine's purdy much battered and bruised). And he himself, sensing the pack drawing away in the virtual horse race. One might have thought the format of the debate, would give favor to Cain, but no.

BACHMANN: Home run/out of the park ... U.S. - Canada oil pipeline (she should have also mentioned the complete, the crushing total shut down, of the entire U.S. gulf oil industry), Ahmadinejad, Obama's failed leadership (beyond self defeating military strategy, to destroy American oil).

GINGRICH: Touching on same (oil/Iran), near similar. And how it affects our domestic military security. Generally looking good. At times forceful and effective (burn the mofo restrictions on drilling down/now/gitterdone). But still, gettin bogged down in thought/philosophy/verbiage on occasion. He'd be fine as a policy wonk/Cabinet member, in any future administration [glad to have him on board!!! And we'll take Bolton too. And West (if he isn't selected second in the draft lottery, as Veep)]. But on deck, calling the ball? The backstab to the Ryan plan, ain't what you do, on a pitching flattop deck, in a time of war. Sorry. That isn't leadership. Just politics. Lame, distasteful politics at that.

SANTORUM: Nothing I saw ... was memorable (but then the feeling I got, was he came up short on minutes?).

PERRY: Live TV debates just are not his thing. Period. Though yeah, he had a couple spots where he didn't drop the ball, on his own foot. But he still doesn't look Presidential. And never has. Straining, reaching for the mantle ... out of reach, beyond his grasp.

HUNTSMAN: Pepsodent and Brylcreem. Taking up space. Sucking up valuable oxygen. Still, I would select him, to play himself, in a cameo/walk on. During a movie production, about the 2012 election/campaign (he's a natural).

PAUL: Sure, his affirmation of all things Constitutional. Can resonate. But his blind eye to Iran, and the caliphate, won't play. That isolationist dog, simply won't hunt. Why is he running? Who the f*ck knows. You can paint him with a thousand different stripes. Look at him through a thousand different facets. He's still a nutter. That being the dominant gestalt of his strange pitiful weirdness. Kind of like a three legged, blind in one eye, incontinent dog [but his owners (Paulbot's) still love him madly].

ROMNEY: Better than Obama? Wow, what an endorsement. His, I'll travel to Israel first thing (exclamation), after taking the oath. Cool, sure. But it's his general inauthenticness, that chafes. Ya know, say what everyone wants to hear. No, I won't off myself, if somehow it comes to pass, he gets the job. But he's a politician. I want a leader. And leaders don't dance around Obamacare, the way he has, as long as he has. Before manning up.

Did I leave anyone out?

Tuesday, November 22, 2011

... the waiting


Ask any crack head/meth freak/needle junkie (next time you're at Zuccotti park). What's the hardest part? And maybe they'll tellya. It's the waiting. For the connect to show up. With the bag.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

As the world now waits. For Syria to fall.

As Neville Chamberlain, gets down on his knees. And sucks d*ck, redolent of goat).

Yet another fallen domino [are there any more left? (ed: well … there’s the U.S., and Israel. And I’m not too sure ... 'bout the U.S.)]. Took Hitler only a handful of years. To build up the muscle, and re-arm. Factory floor after factory floor, given over. While delegitimizing the existence of Jews. With a flood of caricatures drawn in newspapers, and endless pictures painted ... of greedy hook nosed bankers.


Of inculcating a generation entire. Until it became the very sustenance of a nation. The hunting. And the killing. Of Jews.

Now ... no ink is needed, no atomic presses. Nor even patiently nurturing a single generation of bleating sheep (save me from my student loan Obie Wan!).

Overnight. Not five years. Just tweet a couple virtual pixels here, tout a few more there. Ooond voila ... it's Jew hunting time again (baby).

Cept this ain't Nazi Germany, nor 1933. It's America. And a whole nother century, a whole nother millenium. Buraq Hussein weren't born in Austria (where they speak Austrian). Though without any contemporaneous atomic proof? Likely, he weren't even born in America. His travel to (Islamist) Pakistan, on an (Islamist) Indonesia passport? Attests to his dual allegiance as well. His father's (uncontested) British citizenship? Also attests to Hussein's Constitutional ineligibility, to even hold the office (of president). Quite clear, his non natural born status be.

As if one actually needed a roadmap, in order to see. Where the the new king of the Jew Killers, one Buraq Hussein Obama. Where that cockroach's heart lies. [Give Jesse Jackson credit, he in fact told us. Things would be very different, with Israel. With Hussein in the Oval Office (ever so proud Jesse was)].

Sh*t, some in the IslamoCommieJunta no longer have any compunction at all (none what so ever). About showing their stripes (Panetta: "unintended consequences"). Soon enough, all of the filth will be bogged down. In defense of their felony, political corruption (see ya Chu, see ya Holder). And Hillary's Iran presser, the other day? Yet again more sick, deranged, nauseating Kabuki Theater [use it like a reverse/opposite yardstick/meter (think Custer, when he meets up with Dustin Hoffman's character, in the motion picture Little Big Man)].

As the eunuchs in Congress look for that which they don't have. As the right wets themselves, afraid. Unable to wait. For even the first caucus/primary. Jumping from one bloom, then leapity leaping ... to another. In search of some special, magic essence.

There is no sweet savior [though Bachmann could indeed kick all their pantywaisted *sses (YES, she could)]. There is just evil. And it exists without reason, without rhyme. The loud clang, the odious brusque clamor: greedy bankers. Over and over again. And yes, there is also the sound .... of broken glass.


Yeah ... sure, a number of Jews could see, could hear … back in ’33, and fled (those with the resources anyway). But others ... saw too late. Or were unable to flee. And were stuck ... trapped.

Like Anne Frank.

In the attic.

I sit quietly.

I sit patiently.


YouTube direct link/URL

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more Islamist card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part


I ain't on my knees b*tches. I ain' afraid of you. Bring it on.

Addendum, 4:00 pm

MRC direct link/URL

This sh*t however ... this sh*t scares me. Really, really scares me. It's just so disturbing. Infected, diseased minds (remember when HIV first hit?). I don't know exactly what's gunna transpire. What the future holds. I don't. But one can only look at the vid, with fear, dread and sickened revulsion. Like catching a ride on the vomit comet.

The gratitude of every Islamist in our continent, in our Empire, and indeed throughout the world, goes out to the MSNBC Islamonazi's. Who, undaunted by morals or reason, unwearied in their constant challenge and fashion/beltless danger. Are turning the tide of World War III, by their viperic hissing and by their devotion ... to Moe, Ham, and Ed. Never in the growth of the caliphate, was so much owed by so many syphilitic goat f*ckers, to so few American traitors.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Change my name ... move to Coeur d'Alene

Direct link/World Star Hip Hop

I couldn't put it off any longer, no. Turning away, ignoring? After posting the link (in below/previous post), near two weeks ago. Finally, I mustered the courage (to watch).

Me, now at a crossroads ... fully aware that I am in fact unable to sustain my current path, unable to continue. If I'm going to survive the flames of hell. Now that they are lit, are growing ... rising ever more. Poised to consume all measure of calm. All measure of reason.

As the world is forced to deal with global death, and the massive global destruction that the caliphate now brings. And will bring ... for many a year (as sick deviant Buraq Hussein, rapidly fans the flames here at home, in America). I know not when evil will be dispatched, nor how may years ... the rivers of blood will flow?

Yes, I could in fact make Aliyah ... and move to Israel [for all the freakin good it would do (never say never elmo)]. Or (at long last) bob me proboscis, change my name ... and move to Coeur d'Alene (oh joy). But superficially, Arizona's looking like the play (no daylight savings time!). And yes ... you better freakin believe ... concealed carry.

(Now) making do with the (Cali legal) hardware I (currently) fly, when out and about [and would have been more than sufficient, to fend off the bug sh*t, seen in the vid (it ain't the meat, it's the motion)].

More than happy to do the time, in the face of sulfuric evil (yeppers ... talk is cheap). Though certainly, I am not looking for trouble. But there is NO F*CKING WAY that woman's face. Gets punched. To the ground. In my presence. Sorry (but do feel free to try ... go right on ahead ... mudderhubbard).

I'm quite tempted to take a break, and walk away from this virtual insanity, that now comes a calling [every second, of every day (this is the first time I've powered up the computer, in ten entire days)]. And pay a bit more attention to the atomic. And what I need do. To survive. Because obviously, the L*rd's packed his bags, has already gone ... on vacation. Though I'm thinking maybe sometime next year, he'll take a timeout from his vacation? And pop into the cozy bar ... overlooking the beach, for a peek. At next year's Presidential debate (on the tele). Say between Herman Cain, and Khalid Sheik Obama (though I have not given up on Congresswoman Bachmann, not a whit). Whence Mr. Cain slaps that fookin stanknasty maggot ... back to the pile of excrement. From out which it slithered and crawled.

Enjoy your break L*rd.

Image Hosted by

It's already a little too much for me.

Addendum, Friday, 5:00 a.m.

YouTube direct link/URL

Addendum, Friday, 8:00 a.m.

Bachmann speech interrupted by 'Occupy Wall Street' protesters

(30 second commercial precedes the 1:49 vid).

How many times I said .... things are only going to get worse? How many times have I said ... this will not end well? Well guess what mofo's ... things are going to get worse. And this will not end well. Looking at the vid, it's more leaves of tea, to be read. A looking glass into the future. My advice?

Get on a war time footing ... NOW. Jettison the dead weight. All of it. Get your affairs in order. Hell's a comin. You can run. You can (try and) hide. You can even pretend (it ain't at our doorstep). Won't change a f*cking thing. Evil just is. And it most certainly is here. What you do? I know not. I do know things will get ugly. In ways hideous ... yet to be revealed. In manner and form that only pure evil can muster. And yes, I would be lying. If I said I wasn't afraid.