I Am a Democrat: You Owe Me

In recognition of Dependence Day, I give you ....

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.

Originally posted July 2009.

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I Am a Democrat: You Owe Me

Death Is Yours ... If You Want It (Revisited)

A NOTE FROM SNARKY: While I'm on vacation this week, sneaking up to Pennsylvania to sabotage Barack Obama's visit and the Occupy Skid Row movement's plan to make Philadelphia even filthier, I'll be reposting some of the more popular offerings of this site, just for Ema, so she knows that trolls like her can't possibly begin to measure up to what this site has accomplished over the past 4 years. Thanks for reading. SB.


...............................................................................................................................................................


I am an expatriate in reverse. I left America to find America. When I returned, I found America a writhing, swollen, tumor infested beast, wriggling in the throes of death.


That was nearly 20 years ago. It takes a long time for a bloated bureaucracy to die.


Now I sit on my front porch and monitor the decay from an iPhone, like some detached scientist, keeping data, talking notes, bookmarking doom, plotting charts that prove my hypothesis: We're all going to die.


I am a prognosticator, a Nostradamus, ready to flip to the last page of the Mayan calendar. A false prophet.


Of course we're all going to die; humans weren't meant to be immortal. Thank God for that. The problem is we are all dying of loss, a loss of self, a loss of responsibility, a loss of personal dignity. Premature rigor mortis. We still live and breathe and pump cholesterol clogged blood through our veins. But outside we die a nanosecond at a time as the world passes by, microscopic oblivion ex utero.


When nearly 50 percent of the taxpayers pay no tax at all and demand that the 10% of the highest earners who already suffer 70% of the tax burden pay more, when we give up basic freedoms for the "comfort" and "security" of government "protection," when we eschew freedom for "safety," only death is inevitable. The death of individuality. The death of rational thought. The death of a way of life we couldn't possibly have had anywhere else. The death of a country.


So I sit here on my porch, watching it all, trapping the images in these words, photographing in hi definition the end.


It's a God-damned comedy of horrors.


...............................................................................................................................................................


The news is filled with cannibalism. A man takes synthetic bath salts and chews off the face of another man in broad daylight on a Miami causeway. Both are naked. No one knows why. A gay porn star mails pieces of human flesh to political offices. He sends videos to fans. He blames Hollywood.


The paranoid fear the zombie apocalypse is nigh. It's been here for decades, if not a century. We just never noticed.


Zombie politicians began devouring our lives, our freedoms, our human-ness long before the images of freaked out psychopaths scrolled across our 50-inch TV screens, the very ones on which we watched Jeopardy and American Idol and Jersey Shore, while zombie cannibals in our local municipalities and state capitols and the District of Criminals gutted us from within. And it wasn't even surreptitious. The gutting occurred before our very eyes. We were just too blind to see. Now we live on life support: HDTV, Xbox, takeout Chinese. We get fat from Big Gulps and digital over-stimulation, as we bleed our insides out into government coffers, knowingly.


We are not sheep: we are slaves.


...............................................................................................................................................................


When I lived in Germany in the early 90s, a soldier "fighting for my country" in a guard shack, I'd walk around the villages and cities of my adopted country and meet people who were in denial. When you start two world wars and eviscerate the population of a continent, you no longer have a sense of self. Socialism was rampant. Kids graduated from high school expecting the government to cradle them. Government assistance checks were a badge of honor. If you were a young woman and uncomfortable with your bra size, a government boob job magically transformed your confidence. A good day was drinking your way through breakfast and lunch and dinner and collapsing on a bench at a bus stop. Four years in the pit of a cradle to grave society taught me there was no better place on earth than America.


But what I came back to wasn't what I had left. I've seen federal government agents kill American citizens for no reason at all. I've seen young people no longer embrace the values my parents taught me: work hard, be your own man, expect nothing but what you earn by the sweat of your own brow. It's as if I came back only to find I was still living in the apathetic society I'd left behind in Germany. I returned to participation trophies for being born and people spending $100,000 to earn sociology degrees so they can never earn more than $50,000 a year.


I came back to madness.


It's accelerated beyond belief these past four years. My iPhone wants to replace "people" with "proletariat" as i type. Free has now replaced freedom as the fundamental purpose of life in America. Satire is now reality; we're living a Ray Bradbury novel, an Ayn Rand prophecy, a George Orwell realization.


................................................................................................................................................................


Aphorisms for our times race through my head. Weird scenes inside the dumb mind. Something wicked has already come. What rough beast slouches toward Washington to make you bow down.


We've been living in strange times for as long as I can remember. I was born during Vietnam; I now write during Americanam. The yoke of government is so locked around our necks I fear we may never break free.


The days ahead are dangerous. When a sitting president who has accomplished nothing but corruption and anguish and doled out more than your fair share of abuse has a chance to win re-election, we may already be over the cliff.


In these spend times we are nearing end times. The center cannot hold. It's already beyond being off axis.


In the coming 5 months we have a decision to make. Do we let our country die? Do we let our way of life die? Do we let ourselves die?


Choosing Mitt Romney over Barack Obama is infinitely more palatable than continuing on this path of destruction we follow. We have great sacrifices to make. We will have to retire later than we planned. We will have to expect less government entitlements than we were "promised" when we were forced to give the government our money to fund them. Then more money. And still more money. (Hell, every year we vote to tax ourselves locally for infrastructure projects many of us never see come to life, because often that money is diverted to other expenditures, just like the entitlement taxes we pay.) We will have to make the biggest gut check of our lives. We will have to hold the limbs of the people we elect to take over this monstrosity to more than just a fire; we will have to tie them to a rack and torture them, if necessary, to right this sinking ship.


I don't know if we have the stomach for it. I don't know if we are brave enough. I don't know if we can disconnect from the shroud of unreality we create for ourselves to get through every second and minute and hour of every day.


But we must. If we don't, it's all over. And the death throes our country has been experiencing for longer than I've been alive will accelerate.


And it will entirely be our own fault.


We'll have to live with that, until we don't. Live, that is.


Cross-posted at Pat Dollard.

UPDATE: Thanks iOwnTheWorld, The Conservatory, KingShamus, An Ol' Broad's Ramblings, Always on Watch and Doug Ross!

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Death Is Yours ... If You Want It (Revisited)

Death is yours ... if you want it

I am an expatriate in reverse. I left America to find America. When I returned, I found America a writhing, swollen, tumor infested beast, wriggling in the throes of death.


That was nearly 20 years ago. It takes a long time for a bloated bureaucracy to die.


Now I sit on my front porch and monitor the decay from an iPhone, like some detached scientist, keeping data, talking notes, bookmarking doom, plotting charts that prove my hypothesis: We're all going to die.


I am a prognosticator, a Nostradamus, ready to flip to the last page of the Mayan calendar. A false prophet.


Of course we're all going to die; humans weren't meant to be immortal. Thank God for that. The problem is we are all dying of loss, a loss of self, a loss of responsibility, a loss of personal dignity. Premature rigor mortis. We still live and breathe and pump cholesterol clogged blood through our veins. But outside we die a nanosecond at a time as the world passes by, microscopic oblivion ex utero.


When nearly 50 percent of the taxpayers pay no tax at all and demand that the 10% of the highest earners who already suffer 70% of the tax burden pay more, when we give up basic freedoms for the "comfort" and "security" of government "protection," when we eschew freedom for "safety," only death is inevitable. The death of individuality. The death of rational thought. The death of a way of life we couldn't possibly have had anywhere else. The death of a country.


So I sit here on my porch, watching it all, trapping the images in these words, photographing in hi definition the end.


It's a God-damned comedy of horrors.


...............................................................................................................................................................


The news is filled with cannibalism. A man takes synthetic bath salts and chews off the face of another man in broad daylight on a Miami causeway. Both are naked. No one knows why. A gay porn star mails pieces of human flesh to political offices. He sends videos to fans. He blames Hollywood.


The paranoid fear the zombie apocalypse is nigh. It's been here for decades, if not a century. We just never noticed.


Zombie politicians began devouring our lives, our freedoms, our human-ness long before the images of freaked out psychopaths scrolled across our 50-inch TV screens, the very ones on which we watched Jeopardy and American Idol and Jersey Shore, while zombie cannibals in our local municipalities and state capitols and the District of Criminals gutted us from within. And it wasn't even surreptitious. The gutting occurred before our very eyes. We were just too blind to see. Now we live on life support: HDTV, Xbox, takeout Chinese. We get fat from Big Gulps and digital over-stimulation, as we bleed our insides out into government coffers, knowingly.


We are not sheep: we are slaves.


...............................................................................................................................................................


When I lived in Germany in the early 90s, a soldier "fighting for my country" in a guard shack, I'd walk around the villages and cities of my adopted country and meet people who were in denial. When you start two world wars and eviscerate the population of a continent, you no longer have a sense of self. Socialism was rampant. Kids graduated from high school expecting the government to cradle them. Government assistance checks were a badge of honor. If you were a young woman and uncomfortable with your bra size, a government boob job magically transformed your confidence. A good day was drinking your way through breakfast and lunch and dinner and collapsing on a bench at a bus stop. Four years in the pit of a cradle to grave society taught me there was no better place on earth than America.


But what I came back to wasn't what I had left. I've seen federal government agents kill American citizens for no reason at all. I've seen young people no longer embrace the values my parents taught me: work hard, be your own man, expect nothing but what you earn by the sweat of your own brow. It's as if I came back only to find I was still living in the apathetic society I'd left behind in Germany. I returned to participation trophies for being born and people spending $100,000 to earn sociology degrees so they can never earn more than $50,000 a year.


I came back to madness.


It's accelerated beyond belief these past four years. My iPhone wants to replace "people" with "proletariat" as i type. Free has now replaced freedom as the fundamental purpose of life in America. Satire is now reality; we're living a Ray Bradbury novel, an Ayn Rand prophecy, a George Orwell realization.


................................................................................................................................................................


Aphorisms for our times race through my head. Weird scenes inside the dumb mind. Something wicked has already come. What rough beast slouches toward Washington to make you bow down.


We've been living in strange times for as long as I can remember. I was born during Vietnam; I now write during Americanam. The yoke of government is so locked around our necks I fear we may never break free.


The days ahead are dangerous. When a sitting president who has accomplished nothing but corruption and anguish and doled out more than your fair share of abuse has a chance to win re-election, we may already be over the cliff.


In these spend times we are nearing end times. The center cannot hold. It's already beyond being off axis.


In the coming 5 months we have a decision to make. Do we let our country die? Do we let our way of life die? Do we let ourselves die?


Choosing Mitt Romney over Barack Obama is infinitely more palatable than continuing on this path of destruction we follow. We have great sacrifices to make. We will have to retire later than we planned. We will have to expect less government entitlements than we were "promised" when we were forced to give the government our money to fund them. Then more money. And still more money. (Hell, every year we vote to tax ourselves locally for infrastructure projects many of us never see come to life, because often that money is diverted to other expenditures, just like the entitlement taxes we pay.) We will have to make the biggest gut check of our lives. We will have to hold the limbs of the people we elect to take over this monstrosity to more than just a fire; we will have to tie them to a rack and torture them, if necessary, to right this sinking ship.


I don't know if we have the stomach for it. I don't know if we are brave enough. I don't know if we can disconnect from the shroud of unreality we create for ourselves to get through every second and minute and hour of every day.


But we must. If we don't, it's all over. And the death throes our country has been experiencing for longer than I've been alive will accelerate.


And it will entirely be our own fault.


We'll have to live with that, until we don't. Live, that is.


Cross-posted at Pat Dollard.

UPDATE: Thanks iOwnTheWorld, The Conservatory, KingShamus, An Ol' Broad's Ramblings, Always on Watch and Doug Ross!

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Death is yours ... if you want it

Concidence? -- Vol. 5 -- Congressman Shrek

Go check out this hilarious comparison by friend of ours Exblogitate of Congressman Alan Grayson, who thinks Zombiecrats have been around for 3,000 and that Joe Wilson's "You Lie!" eruption was a "belch," with Shrek.

It's just like Shrek to talk about belching in public.

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Concidence? -- Vol. 5 -- Congressman Shrek

Zombama Halloween Mask

Gee, I hope the kiddies start wearing these new Halloween masks to school so they don't have to keep singing anthems to Dear Leader. Hell, the visage is so realistic, one might even be able to sneak into the White House while wearing one.

Wait...on second thought, better not try it. Obama's never really been seen at the White House. Security might actually not know who you are.

UPDATE: In fact, if you DO show up at the White House wearing this mask, the Secret Service just might ask if you're lost, suggesting instead, "Mr. President: Are you sure you haven't confused this place with Neverland, where you like to play child's games with Michael Jackson's ghost?" (h/t: Exblogitate)

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Zombama Halloween Mask

BREAKING IN 2011: Implantable Microchip Backfires, Kills New Health Care Plan

Sometime in the not too distant future in a land right beneath your feet….

WASHINGTON -- Amazing reports are coming in from all over the country today indicating that President Barack Obama’s new national health care plan is a fiasco -- but not for any of the reasons conservative protesters had predicted.

Shocking details reveal that a microchip implanted in all Americans receiving national health care, in accordance with text starting on page 1,000 of H.R. 3200, has turned all recipients immediately into conservatives.

“This is the single biggest mistake we could have made,” said John Holdren, Obama’s science czar. “We should have gone with forced abortions and spiked water supplies with chemicals to initiate sterilization in all women, but the president wanted to be more subtle and use the microchips and start weeding out the old and the sick. Now I don’t even think we’ll be able to abduct all of the children, if everyone’s a conservative and owns at least 100 guns, which, I understand, is compulsory for membership. We had dreamed of a nation of controllable Zombiecrats, a new world order, the final solution, but now we face certain defeat in 2012. Another genius move by the Crisismaker in Chief.”

A mandatory requirement for those enrolling in the government’s health care plan, the chips were implanted in most Americans earlier this year after all private insurance companies folded when employers stopped offering health insurance, instead taking a meager government penalty per employee in exchange for striking the expensive benefit from their budgets.

The chips were supposed to turn any American enrolled in the government plan into a raving lunatic who shuffled around, their arms (stiff with rigor mortis) held out before them, their brain shriveling inside their skull, their eyes turning opaque and vacant, their mouth moaning the blessed words, “Obama iz king…Obama iz king.”

Instead what transpired can only be called amazing.

According to Harry Simpleton, Holdren’s chief scientist on the project, it’s a matter of faulty engineering.

“We had a guy at the government-run factory accidentally load the entire text of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and The Federalist Papers, none of which any Zombiecrat in their right mind has ever read, into the chips and… POOF! … everyone who got one is now an intelligent, limited-government, fiscally responsible conservative,” Simpleton said. “It’s the most amazing feat of social engineering I’ve ever seen.”

White House spokesman Robert “Ahhh” Gibbs said, that while the microchip program can be considered a huge failure, at least the accusations of conservative protesters from the summer of 2009 didn’t turn out to be true.

“Obviously, there is no addition to the national debt, there are no death panels, there is no government mind control, and there is no blue pill,” he said, in his customary mocking tone. “There’s also no longer a Democratic Party, but…well…ahhh…next question!”

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BREAKING IN 2011: Implantable Microchip Backfires, Kills New Health Care Plan

Poor, Whiny Zombiecrats

They can dish it, but they sure can't take it.

Need some diapers Rahmbo, Pinky (Harry Reid's childhood nickname), Joey, or Wicked Witch of Congress? I'll bet Al has some extras.

And for the little trolls...I know the image is Shopped; did you know this one was?

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Poor, Whiny Zombiecrats

I Pledge...to Give Obugger the Middle Finger

Like this video does...

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I Pledge...to Give Obugger the Middle Finger

DANGEROUS Finger Biting Moonbat at Large!

Authorities are looking for a Democrat with beady eyes, flesh peeling from his body, an incredibly shrinking brain, and the victim's blood still encrusted on his lips.

He will walk in a herky-jerky manner indicative of someone with rigor mortis.

If you see or know this zombie dressed in black...

Click to enlarge

...please call the Ventura County police at the number in this link (really).

We wouldn't want the spread of the moonbat zombie virus to infect any more than the 62 million moonbats who already have it. (Let's hope Mr. Rice recovers at all.)

Wait...beware...there are more!



h/t: iOwnTheWorld

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DANGEROUS Finger Biting Moonbat at Large!

The New Obama Nation

Michael Jackson only wishes his Thriller video could look so real. But then again, Obugger is the king of the zombie moonbats (according to my kids), so this incredible video is only appropriate:



From Hopespringseternal, aka Dazed and Confused.

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The New Obama Nation

DAMN! I'm Not Hateful Enough

Earlier today I saw the following posting over at Jim Treacher's place:

There's nothing like making a new fan!

Just knowing that people care is the important thing...

Date: Tue, 4 Aug 2009 03:19:54
From: David Mathews [dmathew1@yahoo.com]
Subject: RepubliKKKlan ?

Hello Jim Treacher:

I just visited your sewer of a blog ...

http://jimtreacher.com/

And I would like to know how such a hate filled person as yourself can sleep at night.

Your blog will serve to remind people exacly [sic] what the RepubliKKKlan party stands for and thereby guarantee the extermination of the religious fundamentalist racist party.

Sincerely,

David Mathews
http://www.flickr.com/dmathew1

Now...being a plucky guy and a bit of a rascalian, I decided to send Mr. Matthews an email:

To: dmathew1@yahoo.com
Sent: Tuesday, August 4, 2009 3:00:34 PM
Subject: I have a hate-filled sewer of a blog, too. Care to visit and send me a nasty email?

http://feedyouradhd.blogspot.com

Apparently, however, my place isn't hateful enough because Mr. Mathews had this to say in response:

Hello Dr. Dave,

You can [sic] that a hate-filled blog? What you write is pathetic weeping, not hate.

Sincerely,

David Mathews

http://www.flickr.com/dmathew1

Well, I'm relieved it's not a sewer (that would be over at the White House garden).

I really don't think Mr. Mathews stayed around long enough to read what the Daily Kossacks had to say about me, or to call me a racist for this or this.

I'm also pretty sure his spellcheck was working when he sent me the email...although his half-assed attempt at snark could have used some proofing, and he certainly didn't spell well when he emailed Treacher.

Was his brain working? Not so much.

I'm NOT hateful. I write "pathetic weeping." Funny...I thought weeping constituted tears. Do I "write" the tears that stream down my face...when I'm laughing my ass off at Obugger's stupidity?

You know how when you're talking to a moonbat and they say something nutty that only an extraterrestrial would say and you just want to slap them but, instead, carefully respond with a basic fact, such as:

The Zombiecrats have a huge majority and they can't even decide on being collective (ie, socialist) enough to get their own damned legislation passed?

To which, of course, the moonbat responds:

Oh...you're just a sore loser. It's BUSH'S fault!

Yeah...Mr. Mathews gives me that feeling. Thanks for the laughs.

BTW, dude: Your music sucks.

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DAMN! I'm Not Hateful Enough

I'm a Democrat: You Owe Me

Someone hit my site the other day using the colorful search terms "fuck every last republican.” Apparently he/she/it was a bit angry about something. Sitemeter indicated they didn’t stick around too long, either.

Was it something I said?

Curious, because I have a fondness for deconstructing moonbat rantings, I clicked back on he/she/its inbound link and found this little gem from the always cheerful Daily Kos partway down the search results.

It got me to thinking, as things of this nature will do, so I came up with this:

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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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Go ahead and continue in the comments section whatever I didn’t cover here.

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I'm a Democrat: You Owe Me

ADHD Family Dinner Conversation

We had a great family discussion over dinner recently: Alternative names for "Democrat," such as "moonbat" and "zombie." My brilliant 5-year-old proceeded to shuffle around the kitchen, moaning, eyes closed, arms limply held out before her. Then my 8-year-old, smart little devil that he is, asked: "Is Obama the king of the moonbats?"

I don't think a father has ever been prouder.

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ADHD Family Dinner Conversation

Meet the Typical Obamabot

Here he is, your typical Obamabot.

Notice the lurid stare. Manifestation of nothing short of maniacal exuberance, a clairvoyant knowledge that every time you open your wallet little government pixies threatening to tase you will jump down off your shoulder and swipe 30 to 50 percent of its contents and promptly flush it down the toilet.

On this one, the swastika is quite obvious. Normally they hide them. Under a breast. Beneath the hairline. Between the butt cheeks. It symbolizes idolatry, belief in The Supreme Being, The One. They've been told by ACORN to look for the symbol each month, in a newspaper ad, on their favorite cereal box, and always, always, as the stamp on the envelope containing their government check. The symbol will guide them! And since they don't know how to read anyway, they haven't ever thought of googling it on the Internet to learn otherwise.

The uniform pays tribute to past carriers of the flame, who they've been taught to uphold: Lenin, dear Adolf, Mussolini, Stalin, Idi, Fidel. The uniform bearer is simpatico with all present and future socialists. He is Darth Vader, his weapon a crackpipe, Jonesing to lock into mortal combat and imbibe on the Marxist force, which he's been told to buy from a shady character who looks like Sean Penn standing outside the nearest 7-11.

Finally, the lolling tongue is evidence he has a taste for it now, a real taste for it. It's coursing through his veins, his every cell, rippling through even his mitochondria. He is pure Zombiecrat now, right down to the hole in his chest where a soul used to be.

He will never stop. Ever.

Unless you put a caterpillar on his pillow. It will drive him so mad, he'll eat his own brains and complain you tortured him, his obsession with minutia affording you the opportunity to cleave in his skull with a mallet, leaving one less Zombiecrat eligible to vote in the next election.

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Meet the Typical Obamabot

Sphincter Joins His Zombie Buddies

Even though this helps b. Hussein, good friggin' riddance.

UPDATE: Of course, Sphincter, as always, said his decision wasn't about party. Sure it wasn't, Arlen. And you're not an assclown of the highest order.

UPDATE II: Naturally, we should remember how Sphincter, in his own words, was so gung-ho to help the Maine RINOs, Collins and Snow, jump sides so b. Hussein could ram Porkulus down our throats.

Or you can just read what Sphincter had to say in this here playground with his "guest post."

And, just so we have it down in data and XML, here at ye ole scatter-brained ADHD grounds, Sphincter went on record in March with The Hill, on how it was just SOOOOOOO IMPORTANT!!! for him to be a stand-up guy and stick with the Republicans in the Senate:

"I’m staying a Republican because I think I have a more important role to play there,” he said. “I think the United States very desperately needs a two-party system. … And I’m afraid that we’re becoming a one-party system, with Republicans becoming just a regional party."

Gee...what's changed in a month? (Besides Pat Toomey whipping up the conservative base back in Pennsylvania into licking their chops over eating you alive in next spring's primary...if you were running against him as a Pubbie....)

Did O'Bugger promise you a rose garden?

UPDATE III: O'Bugger MUST have made a promise the size of Mount Rushmore (future site of O'Bugger's mug, unfortunately) because moldy old Sphincter distinctly proposed a ban on party switching not long ago.

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Sphincter Joins His Zombie Buddies

Blame the Zombies…NOT the Bankers

GEORGE BAILEY!!!! If you don't give that nice young family a "creative loan" for this megamillion house...I WILL RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND EAT YOUR BRAINS...RIGHT NOW!

Thomas Sowell tells a fascinating tale on today’s unfurling economic disaster. He digs deep and finds the roots starting way back in the era of the last gloom and doom and malaise administration, the Carter White House:

The Community Reinvestment Act of 1977 directed federal regulatory agencies to "encourage" banks and other lending institutions "to help meet the credit needs of the local communities in which they are chartered consistent with the safe and sound operation of such institutions."

That sounds pretty innocent and, in fact, it had little effect for more than a decade. However, its premise was that bureaucrats and politicians know where loans should go, better than people who are in the business of making loans.

The real potential of that premise became apparent in the 1990s, when the Department of Housing and Urban Development (HUD) imposed a requirement that mortgage lenders demonstrate with hard data that they were meeting their responsibilities under the Community Reinvestment Act.

What HUD wanted were numbers showing that mortgage loans were being made to low-income and moderate-income people on a scale that HUD expected, even if this required "innovative or flexible" mortgage eligibility standards.

HUD and the Department of Justice began suing mortgage lenders to force them to lend to these low- and moderate-income applicants (yes, there’s a racial undertone here to the government’s goal…but of course!). Government regulators, naturally, then began refusing to approve business decisions that required regulatory sign off for these lenders if they were under (government) investigation for not anteing up good stats on loans for low-income or minority home-wanters.

That pressure grew under the Clinton and Bush administrations, and the inevitable friggin' asinine result was:

Mortgage loans with no down payment, no income verification and other "creative" financial arrangements abounded. Although this was done under pressures begun in the name of the poor and minorities, people who were neither could also get these mortgage loans.

With the relaxed lending standards, just about anyone could have that million dollar home with a bit of creative financing -- that would then balloon to an unsustainable payment in the very near future.

Naturally (Hello, McFly!)...the bottom fell out -- and the people who bought overpriced homes without the means to pay for them in the first place defaulted on their mortgages, one after the other after the other.

Hello...financial disaster. Credit crunch. Business shrinkage (and failure). Layoffs...and more loan default.

Way to Go, federal government!

So when people go around blaming “greedy bankers” for today’s economic crisis (by “people,” of course I mean Zombies…otherwise known as Democrats), claiming that government intervention is the only way to fix the problem, we should remember their melodrama as being every bit as pointless (yet entertaining, in a "you are so silly" sort of way) as Jim Carrey’s classic Liar Liar scene (parodied beautifully here by Family Guy’s Peter Griffin):

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Blame the Zombies…NOT the Bankers

SILENCE! The Takeover Continues...Bloggers Beware!

Now that the next gold rush...I mean, free-for-all for government cash (that doesn't exist) is on to expand the welfare class again, thanks to b. Hussein's pompous signature of GoFrigYourselfus today, next on the evil Zombies' agenda is the Fairness Doctrine...the outright silencing of talk radio in America.

But...HARK!

The evil plot has many tentacles (the leathery sound of Zombies rubbing their hands together maniacally should be filling your ears right about now...gee...I hope their fingers don't fall off).

Not only will you soon cease to hear your favorite voices (rather than join the legal battles sure to follow or struggle to find any "progressive voices" people will listen to -- and advertisers will sponsor -- in order to "balance" their airwaves), many radio stations will choose alternative formatting...like the Adventures of the Thin Man, The Green Hornet, and daytime soaps...which will soon fizzle out on TV anyway.

It gets even better....

If Henry Waxman, the odious Creature from the Black Lagoon in the flesh, has his way...this is what you'll read here on these pages at some point in the future....
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...because WaxMonkey (he does kinda look like a little bald monkey, doesn't he?) has it in for bloggers, too. (Some of you probably might like me to shut up anyway...and, I have to admit, it would be nice to put my ADHD to better use...like trying to find a baseball player who hasn't done steroids for my kid to idolize.)

As yesterday's American Spectator article quotes a House staffer saying, WaxMonkey wants to stick his claws into the Internet and find out:

Does one heavily trafficked Internet site present one side of an issue and not link to sites that present alternative views?

Umm...gee...WaxMonkey....I don't claim to be "heavily trafficked," but I sure as shit claim to present one friggin' side of an issue. Why the hell should I present the other side when I don't believe it, or believe in it? Besides, what's the old radio adage? "If you don't like the station, turn the dial."

Does this mean that WaxMonkey and the FCC would have places like Ace of Spades, Newsbusters, Atlas Shrugs, Iowahawk, and other popular "one-sided" sites shut down if they don't adhere to the rulings of "advisory boards" that would act as watchdogs to ensure "community needs and opinions" are given fair treatment?

Will we soon be required to file a license with the FCC, or these local "advisory boards," in order to blog? Will the Huffington Post (yeah...right!)?

Does this not alarm you?

It should.

But no...I'm just some little right-wing wacko who sees DANGER! WILL ROBINSON! DANGER! in the encroaching (liberal) federal power grab. (You mean like the FCC being able to adopt new rules that put a lid on the First Amendment without having to run them through Congress or the President? You friggin' BETCHA! That's why the Zombies are ALSO looking to put a lid on the defender of all the Amendments.)

And besides, all D.C. really has to do is say: Google...you have an agenda...so do we. So let's have Quid pro quo...now!

Then...

SILENCE!

Follows.

UPDATE: Shit...why am I worried about my ability to spew idiocy when REPUBLICANS are talking about helping b. Hussein nationalize the banks!?! That's it. I'm pulling my market accounts and investing in gold...and pre-Obama stamp ammo.

UPDATE II: Well...I'll be damned. b. Hussein doesn't like the Fairness Doctrine. That doesn't mean I believe him.

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SILENCE! The Takeover Continues...Bloggers Beware!

Promises, Friggin' Promises

Let's count how many times you've screwed 62 million American Zombies out of their votes -- and 240 million of us who didn't or couldn't vote for you -- in two minutes (yeah, b. Hussein...I'm talking about GoFrigYourselfulus):

Leave it to bloggers to point this crap out -- meaning, where's the friggin' "objective" media?:

1. NO LOBBYISTS IN MY ADMINISTRATION. Umm...I guess Tommy was going to be an errand boy? "Here, Tommy...can you clean up after my puppy, too?" (Well...that's not really in this video, but he said it, and it's not true...so why not lump it in here?)

2. Make government open and transparent. Ummkay...when you say "transparent" do you, like, mean brick walls? 'Cause I haven't seen it yet...

3. Make it "impossible" for Congressmen to slip in pork barrel projects. Mr. President...you're a friggin' idiot if you think I can't read what's in that jackass bill. (I guess before you do the Fairness Doctrine, you should eliminate the teaching of reading in this country...so your subjects don't get smarter than you...oh...but how are you going to stop us homeschoolers?)

4. Meetings where laws are written will be more open to the public. (Even Congressional Republicans shut out.) Gee, b....you think we're really that dumb?

5. No more secrecy. I actually think W. was more open at this point than you are.

6. Public will have 5 days to look at a bill. NOT EVEN 12 HOURS, JACKASS...you're a FRIGGIN' liar...what's the matter, did Nancy convince you she really had to have it done before she flew to Rome on me?

7. You’ll know what’s in it. Really...how...by friggin' osmosis? Or waiting for Helen Thomas to tell me what's in it?

8. We will put every pork barrel project online. OH...GO FRIG...YOURSELF, b. We're too smart for your friggin' dumbass charisma. Keep it up...you're shaping up to be the next Jimmy Carter in record time.

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Promises, Friggin' Promises

Zombies Must Have Dinner Before Porkulus

New York Post

b. Hussein, all in a rush to pass that urgent piece of socialist crap I'm lately calling GoFrigYourselfulus, decided the bill wasn't urgent enough for him to stick around bleary D.C. all weekend. He's off to Chicago for a getaway with Mrs. Hussein...

Is that GoFrigYourselfulus in her doggie bag?

Savoring every morsel, perhaps, before kicking off a zombie economy?

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Zombies Must Have Dinner Before Porkulus

Night of the Living Democrats

On oldie but a goodie from JimJab...

Zombies attack; REPUBLICANS BAD!

"Who knows what other danger lurks in the darkness..."

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Night of the Living Democrats