Here, this post is truly outrageous. Posted today, god bless her....
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…to my post of Nov.4:
Was it the same beloved grandmother (before she was thrown under the bus, of course) that might have been called to testify against His Audacity in a lawsuit? Not his Kenyan grandmother?
I think the foul-mouthed journos like the one from Telegraph should be burned, burned at stake :
Obama’s suspension of his campaign, so that he can fly to Hawaii and see his ill grandmother, is a timely reminder to wavering voters that: a) he respects his elders and is a real family guy; b) he’s young enough to have grandparents; and c) he was brought up by white folks, so is probably not an Islamic terrorist. The whole scenario is so perfect that we must hope Obama’s aides did not put strychnine in the old woman’s tea!
To his defense, though, I have to say the piece was written on Oct 22…oh wait, was it an advance hint ?
In any case, what I find sadly missing from the press, amidst all these jubilant celebrations and hosannas, is the reportage from the funeral that The Compassionate One attended - you know, to pay his respect to the woman who raised him. Surely he did, didn’t he?
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SO! AM I A CRAZY OR NO?
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7 comments:
Why is she so concerned whether the President-Elect is going to the funeral? It's nobody's business. It's a private matter and not a matter of policy, politics. The crazy Russian has allowed political beliefs to influence her life to such an extent that hateful thoughts consume her. Oh, I LOVE how all of her "information and data", if you can call it that, comes from message boards and op-ed pieces, and not from unbiased, genuine news sources. She is a truly hateful c**t (sorry, SW, but for me to use that word it must be more than appropriate to the individual).
Nyet, I am no C-word. I am genius! Bow down to my opinions, I know everything.
I think he'd be inhuman if he didn't go.
Chelo? Are you there? The tundra is vast and undulating, and as I pass over it I dream of your magnificent thighs. Chelo? Are you receiving?
I am receiving but my thighs are not.
How dare you mention the tundra! Apologize or who knows what happens next.
Chelo? You are angry with me? The wind, as it billows through the soft hairs of your undernose lip, it raises me to powerful heights like cobra of southern lands. Oceans of communist concrete have I crossed to find you. My horses foam and mouth but will I stop? Until my loins are sated by your woman-like chasm no I will not!
Apologise I will. Sorry I am that I must so far from your iron grip arms must be. But closer I draw, every day. And if the ancient ones of the plain will it to be so, my horses shall wings grow like ancient Tristar logo and speed my nimrod to your missile silo. I grow tired now and must rest!
Nyet, Miroslav. My woman-chasm will not welcome anything less than the great Stalin himself. On the other hand, I not getting younger any.
So. We shall see, but no making me mad or I take back my muffins.
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