June 19, 2014
Sons of Bitches One and All

Hereís a small part of Jim Wrightís advice to the warhogs currently polluting the airwaves. For the full cathartic, go here.

Whatís the goal? Whatís the objective? Is it to end terrorism? Is it to enforce peace at the muzzle of a gun? Is it it to make defense contractors rich? Is it for jobs? Or is it for magic flying bunnies who shoot rainbows and cheap gasoline out of their little assholes to the sound of Yankee Doodle Dandy?

Or, or, is it just because you hate Barack Obama?

Thatís it, isnít it?

It is.

You sons of bitches one and all, you simpering capering madmen, this time at least have the courage to face the cameras, to look into Americaís eyes, and tell them that their sons and daughters will be dying because you John McCain, because you Mitt Romney, because you Dick Cheney, because you Donald Rumsfeld, because you George W. Bush you lying bastard, because you conservatives hate Barack Obama and for no other reason. Go on, tell us, go on. Wave your little flags and beat your fleshy chests, roll out the marching bands and tell us just how many more American soldiers should die. Go on, put a number on it. Ten? A hundred? Fifty four thousand? How many of us have to die? How many more bodies will it take to satiate your mindless hunger for blood and revenge? How many more American lives are worth your insane hatred of the president? How many? How much further into debt should we drive our nation, another trillion dollars? Two? Ten? A hundred? Put a price on it you insane sons of bitches, go on, give me a number, write me a check. Tell me how much youíre willing to pay, show me the goddamned money. How many more years? How many? One? Five? Another decade? Fifty? What is it? Donít wave your hands and make some vague prognostication, give me a number, how many lives, how much money, how many years? You look us in the eye and you fucking tell usÖ


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Posted by Jerome Doolittle at June 19, 2014 12:28 PM
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Sociopaths to a man. One must seriously wonder what they spend their days (One could be certain that their dreams are verrrrrrrrryyyyyyy interesting) thinking about. Is it something like a Ken Russell movie or a combo of Russell and Herzog and Corman? (I might be giving them a little too much credit with the movie stuff) One knows instinctively that they all spend a lot of time in front of a mirror and most likely have a difficult time not picking their faces when that rare moment arrives when they believe, really believe! that no one is watching them. Are personal handlers included in their expense accounts for lecture tours? They silently say more about our national psychological health than anyone will ever admit. Please take me with you! The black paint on my windows isn't working anymore.

Posted by: Dennyc on June 20, 2014 9:55 PM
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