not all of them savory, not all of them strictly things that i have been called. but here i stand before you and declare:
fuck you, mr. president dude with the sonorous voice who sweet-talked all of us into electing you. fuck you and the debt ceiling deal you rode in on.
you had at least two ways (according to nate silver and other people) to take matters into your own hands and just raise that sonuvabitch without precondition, contingency, or any side effect except whining (and if you don't like whining, seriously, grow some balls).
instead, you made cause with a guy named boner. which brings us to the other side of the equation.
to y'all christian materialists, mindless drones, suburban cowboys, southern racists, and former kmart executives who make up a rightward side of the aisle that will go unmentioned, i can only say what i saw written on a wall in the scenic medieval town of Schwäbisch Hall:
IHR KÖNNT MEIN ARSCH LECKEN
you would sell your sister for a tax cut. a tax cut which only the richest .1% of americans (of which coincidentally you are one) will enjoy, and will not actually spend on anything except to use it to pump up our swollen financial derivatives sector, which is already about as predictable and harmless as a rhino on PCP.
okay. enough gibberish for now.
mahalo nui loa
p.s.
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/IHaveManyNames
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