Showing posts with label Repost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Repost. Show all posts

Monday, November 2, 2009

My First Anniversary

From the insanely irreverent Grumpy Old Twat

I've been putting this off, so now I just need to get it over with and move on.

A week ago, this blog turned one year old. Judging from how I started out, it's a miracle it made it to one month. But along the way we got stuck with America's biggest fan and, well, I had to go on.

I've had some ups and downs. Along about June I was getting ready to hang it up, perhaps for lack of material, perhaps because I didn't think anyone gave a damn. But then 8 asshole Republicans helped the House pass cap and trade and I got a little huffy about it and Ann Coulter picked up this post and together we helped about 10,000 people say, or at least think, what they felt about those RINOs.

I guess you could say that post helped me find some resolve.

After receiving some 75,000 hits now, I'd have to say what matters most to me about this place are the readers. You make it worth opening up that "new post" button every day. I hope you've been entertained, and if you're a moonbat zombie troll, I hope you've been really pissed off.

Rather than go through a litany of my "top 10" posts, I'd like to start a little game for my blogging friends. If you post in the comments a link to your favorite post on this site, I'll put my favorite post of yours up here during the month of November and link back to you. (My non-blogging friends can join in, too. For those who do, I'll make you a character in a skit that makes Chairman Zero look like the buffoon he truly is.)

And since we're going to be blessed with the Wicked Witch of Congress bringing her wealth share Obamanation to the floor of the House this week, I'm going to repost what's probably my most favorite piece because it represents what this place is really all about....

(P.S. Give fellow patriot Logistics Monster a hand to keep battling the moonbat brigade.)

(P.P.S. Seriously, folks. I want you to take whatever you like from this site and post it on your site with a link back. If what you like is a bit too foul with language, then pick something else. I really like this idea of exchanging posts with everyone. It keeps blogging fresh and interesting.)

I'm a Democrat: You Owe Me

I’m a democrat. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I have my own pile of money, but I want yours, too, including the four pennies you have rattling around in the bottom of that peanut butter jar you frugal idiots like to use as a change holder. Give it up! You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I just say I like the public school system. My kids go to private schools so that your kids can go to public schools and learn how to be good little democrats like me. When my kids grow up and become better members of a collectivist society, and your kids grow up confused, my kids will get government jobs and take more money and freedom from your kids. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I have a job with health insurance, but I think it’s everyone else’s fault when I get sick and have to cut back on my lifestyle so I can pay for health care that should be free, along with cars and houses and big screen TVs. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. There is no god. You can go ahead and get down on your knees and pray to the ceiling for forgiveness and strength and peace, but I’ll be standing right behind you with a tire iron, bashing your skull and stealing your wallet. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I hate people. I would rather sleep with my dog or a cucumber or a tree than with another person…unless I can just dump them on the curb after we’re through. You just have sex to make more people so you can continue to earn more money while you rape the planet. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I love taxes. It’s patriotic…for you…to pay them. I don’t pay any, anyway. And if I have to, I’ve figured out loop holes or have offshore accounts to shelter my money, so the government never really gets too much from me anyway. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. It’s not only my right but also my duty to take freedom and representative republicanism from you, little by little, and replace it with government bureaucracy. From each according to his ability, to each according to his need. I’m needy. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I have a $20 million vacation playground on Martha’s Vineyard and a guarded compound in South Chicago and belong to the richest majority in Washington’s history. But I hate rich people who aren't democrats and want your property too so I can save endangered swamp rats and build turtle tunnels and fix toilets. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. There are more of you than there are of me. You breathe too much. I’ve told the world outlandish lies that you’re causing global warming, using faulty correlations to get everyone so worried they’re about to let me tax thin air. And you’ll breathe a lot less. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I’m an elitist. I’m perfect. I’m not like all of you stupid wingnuts out there working your greedy little fingers to the bone trying to make a little money and feed your family and have something to call successful when you retire. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I live in the city so I can get stupid drunk and piss on the streets when I want and kick your parked car when it gets in my way. It’s too bad that you have all those guns in your humble suburban and country homes. If you didn’t, I’d come and toss you out on your naked ass and make you live in the fetid cities that my government policies screwed up. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I think you hate homosexuals. I have no idea that you just want to be left alone and live your life the way you see fit and not have your children taught with government money that they should seek alternative lifestyles for the fun of it. I just want you to do what I think you should do with your life. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I’m so tolerant I can’t tolerate anyone who doesn’t think the way I do. In fact, I hate white people. I hate all people. I hate myself. I hate myself so much that I hate you even more when you are happy. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I don’t know how to do anything for myself. I need to be told what to do. I don’t think human beings are capable of taking care of themselves. That’s what government is for. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I don’t think any people should have rights. I think fish and frogs and grass should, however, and I want to represent them in court…and you to pay for it. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I’m a child. I act like a child and I think like a child and I live like a child and I throw up my hands and have little fits when I don’t get my way. There should be no consequences for anything I do. But there should be consequences for you, even if you’re blameless in what I accuse you of. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I’m racist but I get others to think that you are racist just because I call you one. It’s a riot to watch you squirm because I know you have a conscience. I do not. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I was born poor or middle class or rich, but it doesn’t matter. I was born black or white or Asian or Latina, but it still doesn’t matter. In fact, it’s Bush’s fault that I was even allowed to be born at all. You owe me.

I’m a democrat. I want health care at your expense, while I’m young and virulent and child-like. But then I want you to kill me when I start to get old and weak and feeble, so that all of my young and virulent and child-like democrat friends can have health care at your expense.

Then I want to come back to life as a rock, so lots of birds can shit on me. They owe me, too, for being a loony moonbat.
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Saturday, August 8, 2009

REPOST: When the SS Comes to My House



Here's a repost of something I wrote a while back when Chip Harrison’s car got pulled over for displaying a sign that said: “Abort Obama Not the Unborn.”

Given that the president has people telling on their neighbors over at his "flag" email address (hey, pres, FLAG YOU!), I thought it might be fun to revisit what might happen if my neighbors have been telling on me.

I’m pretty sure how it will go….

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Two men in black stand rigidly at the door. One reaches out like a dumb friggin’ robot to push the doorbell.

RIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGG! RIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGG! RIIIIIIINNNNNNNNGGGGG!

What appear to be explosions erupt inside the house. A vicious dog barks 40 times a second. A chorus of high-pitched screeching approaches the door amid the warnings of the attack dog. The cacophony is so loud one agent puts a hand over his ear. The silhouette of a man becomes clear through the door’s tempered glass. He appears to be bobbing and weaving, as if he were a boxer. He seems to trip… over two smaller silhouettes, and a white amorphous mass, the front of which seems to bounce off the floor like a jackhammer. Up and down. BARK BARK BARK! Up and down. BARK BARK BARK! Up and down.

Secret Service Man #1 reaches his right hand beneath his jacket and flips the catch on his shoulder holster, then returns the hand to his side.

BAM! The man inside slams into the door: Shit!

He fumbles for the locks, frees them, and shouts: Hold on…wait…Dog (real name withheld to protect the guilty)…DAMMIT! DOG!...Lucy? LUCY!? (real name again withheld to protect the guilty) CAN YOU GET THIS FRIGGIN’ BEAST OUT OF HERE?

Two smaller silhouettes, apparently young children, seem to be hopping up and down, as if on a trampoline.

The silhouette of (apparently) “Lucy” pulls the amorphous white mass that is “Dog” back into the recesses of the house, the sound of a million paw nails scratching the floor loud, then diminishing, then gone.

[Narrator interruption: I shit you not. This happens any time anyone rings the door bell. Neighbor kid. Pizza man. Church lady. Secret Service.]

The door opens. Just a little. A bespectacled man with wild curly hair pokes his head through the crack.

SS#1: Sir. Are you Dr. Dave ADHD?

Man: Umm…yes. Can I help you?

Secret Service Man #2: We’re with the Secret Service, Mr. ADHD.

Both men extract wallets and flip them open so quickly to reveal identification, the man in the door blinks a few times.

Man: Is that something you learn as freshmen in Secret Service School?

SS#1: Frowns. Sir. We’re here on official government business.

Man: Smiles, like a jackass. Umm…yeah…I got that when you said the words “Secret Service.”

SS#2: Sir. We understand you write a seditious blog. We’re concerned you’re with a hate group. We’d like to come in and look around.

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

SS#1: Sir. Can we have a look around…inside?

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

SS#1: MR. ADHD!

Man: Collects himself. Sure. Why the hell not? Welcome to my nightmare!

Man opens the door. Two children swoop past him. From somewhere inside the house, a million paw nails scratch the floor, the sound drawing closer and closer.

“Lucy”: Dog. Dog! Get BACK here!

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

SS#1 and SS#2 cross the threshold into the house. The two children block their path. The white amorphous “Dog” jumps between the two children, tail wagging, knocking both of them to the floor.

“Dog” jumps up and plants its paws on SS#1’s chest…and licks SS#2’s trigger hand.

Boy and Girl recover, pull themselves off the floor, and, hopping up and down, again block the path of SS#1 and SS#2.

Boy: Why are you wearing black? Hop. Hop. Hop.

Girl: Yeah. Why? Hop. Hop. Hop.

Boy: Can we have those sunglasses? Hop. Hop. Hop.

Girl: Yeah. Can we? Hop. Hop. Hop.

“Dog” jumps down from SS#1 and jumps on SS#2’s chest…and licks SS#1’s trigger hand.

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

SS#1: MR. ADHD. If you could, PLEASE!

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

Boy: Did you come to see Daddy’s guns?

Girl: Yeah. Did you?

Boy: My daddy was in the Army!

Girl: Yeah. The Army!

Boy: He hates Obama!

Girl: Yeah. Rock Obama! [Narrator translation: This one thinks “Obama has rocks in his head” sounds better her way.]

SS#1 smiles. So…Mr. ADHD. You’re flying your flag outside upside down. You have a seditious blog. You own guns. You “hate” the president. You want to tell us about your hate?

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs. I’m just a blogger, man. I’m just having fun.

Boy: Want to play football?

Girl: No. Play babies!

SS#2: Sir. Can you do something about these children?

Man: Laughs. And laughs. And laughs. I’ve been trying. For 7 years. That’s why I blog. So I can take my frustration out on dumb people. Your boss just happens to be the dumbest one around. Laughs. And laughs. And laughs.

Girl: Rock Obama!

Boy: I lost my tooth. Grins widely. See?

Girl: Daddy makes fires in the fireplace so I can warm belly? Pulls up her shirt. See?

“Dog” still licks SS#1’s trigger hand.

Boy: Want to see my room?

Girl: No. Mine!

Boy: I like pizza! Do you?

Girl: Yeah. Pizza!

Boy growls. [Narrator: This is an involuntary reflex, we think. Or maybe he really is a monster.]

THUD! Everyone turns around to see Man lying on the floor.

“Lucy”: Hun? Hun, are you okay?

Man was laughing so hard he could no longer stand up. “Dog” hovers over him and starts licking his face.

SS#2 turns to SS#1: Umm…I don’t think this man belongs to any hate group. But he sure isn’t right in the head.

SS#1 turns to “Lucy”: Ma’am. Can we call someone for your husband?

Man stops laughing: Yes. Please! Take me away! I’ll even go to the gulag. Just…get…me…out of here!

Man then laughs. And laughs. And laughs.
*
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