Archives
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Liberals I Want to
Die.
LET US PRAY. Well... none of them. I wish I could. It feels like weakness that I can't.
I don't hate. I despise and loathe and contemn. I want them to have that piercing moment when they realize how utterly wrong they've always been about everything. I want to be there when the truth sinks in. Is that even meaner than wanting to see them dead? So be it.
Here's my list. I'm not doing links today. But you can find them easily enough for yourselves. Go to Youtube. Where were we? My list:
Bob Beckel. I find it hard to watch the
new Fox News hit "The Five" because the conservatives on set trivialize
their own convictions by ostentatiously liking Bob Beckel, who never
retreats from his own hard-line left talking points. He's a sour,
corrupt old pol who takes advantage of his kinder colleagues like Dana
Perino and Andrea Tantaros. Even Eric Blair laughs and laughs at
Beckel's constant nastiness. Only Greg Gutfeld knows that Beckel is
actually evil. Which makes me want to throw up. Except that Gutfeld
does know. His eyebrows say
it all. Kimberly Guilfoyle also knows he's a disgusting slimeball. She writhes away from him in her chair. Hot women know things good girls don't. T'was ever so.
Chris Matthews. More evil. Holy Cross was always full of Jesuit assholes who were convinced they were twice as smart as they were. The only good argument for the existence of Harvard I've found. Crushing Holy Cross pseudo-intellectuals. They're just not too bright.
Keith Olbermann. Have you ever seen those mysterious John Deere harvester vehicles that suck stuff up and grind it into bales? Pretend I didn't ask that. I just want one week as his copy editor. Well, uh, same thing. Idiot.
Ed Schultz. An exception. I want him dead. No, I don't. I'm too good for that. Nah. I want him dead. No, I don't. You know.
Harry Reid. Have you seen the painting called American Gothic? I want him married to that woman for life with no possibility of parole.
Nancy Pelosi. I want her to look in the mirror and know that Snow White is Sarah Palin, the fairest of them all.
Maxine Waters. Courtesy of Chris Rock, I want her to realize that she is suddenly all alone at 3 am on Martin Luther King Boulevard.
Barbara Boxer. Somebody should steal her shopping cart. And maybe fumigate her hairdo. Lice, you know. An affliction of the homeless and mindless.
Barbara Mikulski. Mister Toad was more charming. In her case, no rescue by Mole and Rat is indicated.
Rachel Maddow. Smartest journalist alive, Letterman says. Wouldn't it be nice if he elaborated on this point in his upstairs lair, with all the Sybian machines at his disposal? Of course it wouldn't. But I bet she'd find a way to explain it away. What with Letterman being so liberal and all.
Bill Maher. Total shithead. I don't want him dead. I want him to experience a black mamba bite. Something to make him contemplate the eternal. And the antivenin needle is in the hands of a dumb twat. (Like maybe Steve Irwin's widow.)
Stephen Colbert. What constitutes poetic justice for a one trick pony? Maybe unsmiling scorn.
Jon Stewart. Simple. I want him in Tel Aviv with his mother when Iran finally launches its nuclear attack on Israel. I'm sure he'll find the experience intensely embarrassing for Republicans. Putz.
Chris Matthews. More evil. Holy Cross was always full of Jesuit assholes who were convinced they were twice as smart as they were. The only good argument for the existence of Harvard I've found. Crushing Holy Cross pseudo-intellectuals. They're just not too bright.
Keith Olbermann. Have you ever seen those mysterious John Deere harvester vehicles that suck stuff up and grind it into bales? Pretend I didn't ask that. I just want one week as his copy editor. Well, uh, same thing. Idiot.
Ed Schultz. An exception. I want him dead. No, I don't. I'm too good for that. Nah. I want him dead. No, I don't. You know.
Harry Reid. Have you seen the painting called American Gothic? I want him married to that woman for life with no possibility of parole.
Nancy Pelosi. I want her to look in the mirror and know that Snow White is Sarah Palin, the fairest of them all.
Maxine Waters. Courtesy of Chris Rock, I want her to realize that she is suddenly all alone at 3 am on Martin Luther King Boulevard.
Barbara Boxer. Somebody should steal her shopping cart. And maybe fumigate her hairdo. Lice, you know. An affliction of the homeless and mindless.
Barbara Mikulski. Mister Toad was more charming. In her case, no rescue by Mole and Rat is indicated.
Rachel Maddow. Smartest journalist alive, Letterman says. Wouldn't it be nice if he elaborated on this point in his upstairs lair, with all the Sybian machines at his disposal? Of course it wouldn't. But I bet she'd find a way to explain it away. What with Letterman being so liberal and all.
Bill Maher. Total shithead. I don't want him dead. I want him to experience a black mamba bite. Something to make him contemplate the eternal. And the antivenin needle is in the hands of a dumb twat. (Like maybe Steve Irwin's widow.)
Stephen Colbert. What constitutes poetic justice for a one trick pony? Maybe unsmiling scorn.
Jon Stewart. Simple. I want him in Tel Aviv with his mother when Iran finally launches its nuclear attack on Israel. I'm sure he'll find the experience intensely embarrassing for Republicans. Putz.
I changed my mind. I want them all to die. Of cancer. Horribly. Screaming. Half as much as they want Cheney to die screaming. Not really. You know. I want them to wake up. Impossible as that is for pea-brained, soul-shrunken fools. But I can dream, can't I?
P.S. Like many others, apparently, I have been concerned about the state of Shepard Smith's health. I discovered a comment thread at the Free Republic, whose denizens decidedly don't like Mr. Smith. But I was struck by the fact that they all wished him a return to health rather than death. Compare this to lib reactions to the life-and-death situations of Cheney, Ingraham, Snow, and Breitbart.
