Sunday, August 16, 2015

Sunshine, Lollipops, and Rainbows

Had the radio on, round 3:30 a.m., for a couple minutes only (KCBS/740). Had to switch it off. Felt physically ill ... nauseous. As the realization that it is over, well and truly, washed over me [but elmo, the buildings are still standing (I can see them out the designer/rose colored/triple pane windows ... of my ivory tower)].

Over. Finis. Done deal. Kaput. History. Past tense. For I realized no one's doing a damn thing. To stop this goose stepping march into madness. Nothing.

And what did I hear, on the radio? Ferguson (town of) .... in the last year, hired a black police chief, 2x city council members, and 632x other assorted mucky mucks, with black skin. Skin (I did say skin didn't I?).

Melanin content [as in ... not content of character (yeah, the sound you just heard. Was MLK's ghost, committing Hari Kari [he simply just could not take it anymore])].

A year later, in Ferguson. Still mobs, mob violence, riots, mayhem, and murder. The equation, the simple math exercise? Escapes the libturd nation. Beyond their grasp. They hired everybody (and their brother), to wave/sprinkle magic melanin fairy dust, oer the land. And in turn, bring sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. And for some reason, it just didn't work? (you got me on that one).

It's derangement. It's delusional. It's insanity. It is madness. IT IS PURE F*CKING EVIL. And it is a signpost. That we have reached the end.


Biden Calls Chattanooga Shooter a 'Perverted Jihadist' (Via Lucianne) 

Takes one. To know one. Eh Joe ...

'America's Culture War Starts Claiming Victims' (Via Lucianne)

Yeah, it's called propaganda. Fascist propaganda. And it is everywhere. It is nonstop. It is all encompassing. And just like Berlin, 1938. Exactly like. It destroys everything in its wake. People. Lives. Country. Murders them. Slaughters them. Discards them. Like trash. Like refuse. Like garbage:

"To hear the professional left’s 'culture commandos' tell it, revered conservative author, commentator, and documentary filmmaker Dinesh D’Souza is a criminal – and stark, raving mad.
A search for D’Souza online, and will quickly show that he’s a 'convicted felon.'  His Wikipedia page, for instance, references him as an 'Indian American political commentator, convicted felon and author' (emphasis added) – making sure his brush with the law is listed ahead of his status as a best-selling writer, and well ahead of his status as the most successful conservative documentary filmmaker of all time.

If one searches for recent news about D’Souza, one will find that a federal judge recently ordered him to undergo ongoing psychiatric treatment as a condition of his probation."

This is happening now. In real time. IT ISN'T FICTION. It isn't make believe. And, in repetition ... IT ISN'T BUSINESS AS USUAL. So get your fat f*cking heads out your fat *sses already! Criminy.

[and Breit, still with the phase delay, stealth pop-up ad kwapola (EIC? .... Epaulets and Infinite Confetti?)]

The Country meant something, once. It was just so long ago. In fact, people actually used to do something, anything, to save this Nation (even just a flag). When confronted ... with open, brazen attacks upon her. Without hesitation (without any what so ever). It was so long ago [in the ninth grade, I was picked for daily flag detail. It was a solemn duty. The simple ritual, and the reverence. What an honor (try anything with the flag, in front of me. And I will shove it ALL the way down, your f*cking throat. Make NO mistake)].

(Via Lucianne)

T R E A S O N. I'll say it again ... Treason. And it is happening. Happening now. Right in front of our very eyes. Right out in the open for all (with two eyes), to see. And the Conswervo Elite? Still (f*ck me), chasing after feathers ... on a string (and you wonder why I'm the angriest blogger 'round?). What a joke. What a sick, sick f*cking joke. No one's going to stop King Pigsh*t. No one is even trying.

The official guillotine/Iran Treason falls (on the Western World), in about thirty days. I've got congress back in session, on the 17th, of September (correctly/incorrectly?). Then, with nine days more to go (officially, of the "sixty days"), before the Treason is jammed down the entire world's throat. But, the AP, has the 17th, as the (sixtieth) day, and Iran going live (as it were). Already, already done. A formality. And then Iran


I've warned you before, about the IslamoCommieJunta's use of the calendar. And how they uniformly, without exception. Jump the gun. ALWAYS. Now is not the time, for vacations. Or stupid mudder hubbard boosheet. Nonstop boosheet. It just isn't. Ok people (are ya feeling me yet?).

This is it.

For everything that ever was.

Or ever will be.

What did you do in the war?


[Via Sludge (even a busted clock ...), and now also, with muy pooftah popup ads/floating interstitials!]

'Obama can do Iran nuclear deal even if Congress disapproves'

WASHINGTON (AP) — The September vote on the Iran nuclear deal is billed as a titanic standoff between President Barack Obama and Congress. Yet even if lawmakers reject the agreement, it's not game-over for the White House.

Noooh ... don't listen to me ...

It's all been smoke and mirrors ... getting everyone to keep their eyes, on that feather on a string. While the T R E A S O N  goes through. I said before, the deal was a certainty. The vote a mere charade. Lambs to slaughter. Obama will do whatever the f*ck he wants. And no one will stop him (insert token/gratuitous bibliovend ref here).

What's that, you feel someone's hand in your pants?! Don't worry, that's just Boehner and McConnell, jerkin' the Country off. They won't do a damn thing either. To stop King Pigsh*t, Traitor in Chief. Now accesories, to treason.

Was gunna close, with an embed vid console. YouTube/REM/End of the World. But they all have offensive, pre viewing, view through ad content. Why bother, really. And, the only reason was ... so I could say ... NO, I don't feel fine.

If  you're not angry?
You simply haven't been paying attention.
Or ... you're just scarfing Valium.
By the jar.


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