Not to single any particular person out, but this seems to sum up what a lot of people are supposing right about now:
Perfectly reasonable, right? Here's how the Human Centipede Administration answers that question:
Recall that we've already had two (yes, two) presidential elections stolen just in this century, right in front of us, and no one did a goddamned thing about it. But just for sport, let's play along and say that you do get to vote and there is a blue tsunami and the Dummycrats reclaim the House and get to a 50-50 split in the Senate. Not enough to impeach and convict, but enough to control the House committees and jam up Traitor Bitch McConnell's daily efforts to skull-fuck what's left of the republic. Okay, now what?
We'll, I've been telling you since day one of this ongoing hemorrhoid what. The cornered rodent currently squatting in the White House will not only continue what he's been doing all along, he'll accelerate, increase, amplify. Because, again (you may have heard this one before):
And so the show goes on, because in this instant, the child has an entire propaganda network at his beck and call. Imagine -- dozens of supposedly professional careerists, basically just sitting around waiting for their marching orders from a demented old man who spends more time fixing his hilarious hair and skin than actually working.
When this is all over -- indeed, if it ever actually ends and this fucking turd is finally flushed for good -- there will be efforts from some corner to "reconcile," as if flat-out treason can ever be reconciled. At that point, lists need to be drawn up, and every single one of these Fixed Noise fuckers, right down to the kid that puts down the gaffer's tape, needs to be permanently blackballed from any sort of employment anywhere within a mile of government or news. They can all go ply their trade with fifty-cent blowjobs in the abandoned industrial park where the Beemer plant used to be before Cheetolini decided he knew more about tariffs than everyone else.
I'm not hardly kidding about this. If we ever get out of this jam, and if you really want to prevent it from happening again, they all have to pay dearly. Scorched earth. No quarter. What would General Sherman do?
Perfectly reasonable, right? Here's how the Human Centipede Administration answers that question:
The fuck you gonna DO about it, pal?You have to admit, they're not wrong in that stance. What are you gonna do about it? Vote? Sure, if they allow you to, if Deripaska's Macedonian troll farm hasn't purged you off the rolls, if Brian Kemp hasn't prevented every black person in Georgia from voting against his enlightened despotism.
Recall that we've already had two (yes, two) presidential elections stolen just in this century, right in front of us, and no one did a goddamned thing about it. But just for sport, let's play along and say that you do get to vote and there is a blue tsunami and the Dummycrats reclaim the House and get to a 50-50 split in the Senate. Not enough to impeach and convict, but enough to control the House committees and jam up Traitor Bitch McConnell's daily efforts to skull-fuck what's left of the republic. Okay, now what?
We'll, I've been telling you since day one of this ongoing hemorrhoid what. The cornered rodent currently squatting in the White House will not only continue what he's been doing all along, he'll accelerate, increase, amplify. Because, again (you may have heard this one before):
The fuck you gonna DO about it, pal?Everything is an act of defiance, a self-stroking of the imperial mini-cheeto, for no greater reason than to prove that he can, and to defy all comers to stop him. Imagine a four-year-old throwing a shit-fit in the cereal aisle for two years running, and a parent that lacks the will to step up and be a fucking parent. The supermarket workers are lamely standing at the edges of the scene asking the parent to take their asshole kid anywhere else, but the workers, the parent, and most importantly the asshole child all know they won't actually step up and shut it down.
And so the show goes on, because in this instant, the child has an entire propaganda network at his beck and call. Imagine -- dozens of supposedly professional careerists, basically just sitting around waiting for their marching orders from a demented old man who spends more time fixing his hilarious hair and skin than actually working.
When this is all over -- indeed, if it ever actually ends and this fucking turd is finally flushed for good -- there will be efforts from some corner to "reconcile," as if flat-out treason can ever be reconciled. At that point, lists need to be drawn up, and every single one of these Fixed Noise fuckers, right down to the kid that puts down the gaffer's tape, needs to be permanently blackballed from any sort of employment anywhere within a mile of government or news. They can all go ply their trade with fifty-cent blowjobs in the abandoned industrial park where the Beemer plant used to be before Cheetolini decided he knew more about tariffs than everyone else.
I'm not hardly kidding about this. If we ever get out of this jam, and if you really want to prevent it from happening again, they all have to pay dearly. Scorched earth. No quarter. What would General Sherman do?
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