Other than Hillarious attempts at playground slander there is so much else to admire on the Egregiously Ignomous Bigot's flagwave.
The fauning, obsequious little "dittos" and the Merchandising!
Lush lets anyone buy stuff 24/7, but to get the "High Test Oxy" (info) ya gotta pay the price, join the grope.
Starring Himself,in many (dis)guises, all of which, evidently, greatly appeals to those diminishing remnants of Rove's rubes, who unhand their serpents,(just {long} enough), to sticky up that radio dial daily.
A particular crowd pleaser is hiss cloyingly, cute repetitive coda, "You musth remember thiss, a lissp is just a diss."
"Hot Dang Enid, I swear when he talks thuh baby-talk ah'm like to widdle ma britches.
Did thuh 'ammo miles' from Chuck at ther NRA, come in yet?
No Sugar, yer a tad young to rassle the rat'lers, but iffen Yr. a good little gal, y'all are gonna play with the Woodcock, later."
Would you talk like that to Yr. best hunting bitch? (QED)
In the carny of conceit that comprises the prancing pissant pundits all the mirrors were one way, until anyone (even old sailors!) could tap into the Mojo Wire, and anyone else could listen.
Lush Bimbo, Ayn(L.)Colder, Shun Honesty and Bogside Billy et al use exactly the same M.O. and (yet) they thrive+survive in a climate of constant TV forensic fables, ees a puzzlement, eh Anna?
See(S.I.), all these shows celebrate opportunity, weapons and motives.
It's simple, "Like the periodic table, my dear Watson."
And there's no jizz like show bizz for these eager egoists.
Conflict sells soap, so high voltage teasers with tasers are in great demand, that's the oppo.
As to weapons, how can we count the ways?
Impervious to the delicate shafts of wit that characterize civil, adult discussion and argument, they showcase the sandbox, celebrate the stereotype, do the hokey-pokey, slander all and sundry, turn it all about, ridicule responsibility and generally hurl their fricative, fictitious feces all around the Mayberry, Bush.
Scent marking for sanctimonious syncophants.
Intellectually undescended, (like testicles, unlike monkeys) their game depends, (like a full diaper) on suspended disbelief and the fact that their listeners are all co-celebrants in the Church of Me First.
These sad simpltons are as unlikely to suss out syllogistic spam as they are to rectify their own undistributed middles.
Three wild guesses at the motive, anyone?
Peut-etre, Beaucoup d'Argent? D'accord.
The Petreaus caption was neither witty nor germane and prima facie infra dig. but happily for the hate mongers, it lowered (as improbable as that seems) the ongoing debate,( War!, More War? or Somewhat Less War?) right back to the G.O.P. (briar) patch.
("Peace" of course, never, never, occurs to anyone, except in a collateral way, like when they're kilt.)
The Gory Odious Pubic "Patch" ain't Br'er Rabbit's happy habitat.
It's B.F.S.'s Box, stale+reeking with lumpy Limbo litter (Watch out Tony, it's dark and sticky in there).
Let's all move on and leave them in it.
"The woods are dark and deep, and we have miles to
Update: 3 Oct. 07
Today, in a scintillating retort to those nitpicking blogwits who had the temerity to wonder if a redacted transcript was more useful evidence than say EYES+EARS! Shush (Yo mouf) Lumbago allowed the whole story was a mere tech glitch between+among Snerdly, Himself, reaching backwards whilst multi-tasking on air and... wait for it, THE PRINTER.
Well Gush, we've all been there.
Rosemary Woods would be proud.
What Dots?
Ctrl>Alt>Delete/ LoBatt/ ZZZZZZZ
Update: 7 Oct. 07
Tush's latest salvo: Decorated, wounded, BushWar veterans who prefer Peace to War are treasonous, suicide bombers who have been "Manchurianed" by Hillary et al.
Tune in tomorrow (")'s, as he sets the bar even lower.
With Lush Limbo to guide you, who knows how low you can go?
