Thursday, April 13, 2006
Oh shit. Is it tax day already? Where the hell did I put my goddamn stamps? I gotta get this check in the mail so we can buy the Cretin-in-Chief another fucking boat.
And no, that’s not a euphemism, dickhead. Your President and mine has so little sense of decorum that while he was telling crippled vets he couldn’t afford to pitch in for their medicine, he was dropping two million federal clams on a fucking yacht. Way to rub it in our faces, asshole. I bet if we sell back some of that body armor we can hook you up with a fish finder . . . .
Speaking of Satan, guess who else is getting multimillion dollar checks from Uncle Samson? Pat Fucking Robertson.
It’s not like he needs the cash, either. Mr. Robertson’s worth in the neighborhood of two hundred million dollars. His mountaintop home? Has a fucking airstrip. Which comes in handy since his “Operation Blessing” has regular flights to Africa to feed the po... just kidding. Yeah, he shipped a couple of crates of (government donated) powdered milk over to those poor souls that his pal Sese Seko was slaughtering in Zaire. But what was filling the cargo hold on most of the flights? Drills for his diamond mines.
Uh huh. Diamond mines. That he got by cuddling up to a crazy African Dictator with a leopard-skin hat. While he was cheating senior citizens out of their social security checks. And suggesting that forced abortion might not be so bad if you’re Chinese. And canceling the fucking Ice Capades.
This fucker’s a Bond villain, but without the warmth and realism. And you’re about to dash out to the post office to make sure he get his share of your tithe – sorry – taxes in time to make his next payment on his Super Death Ray of Death. And yes, as if you didn’t see this coming, Robertson’s “charity” that’ll be getting a cut is the same “Operation Blessing” that Pat used for his mining equipment delivery service.
Oh, and what’s the best part of Pat’s little deal with the Sultan of Smirk? When Bush unveiled his Faith Biased Initiatives, Robertson told his loyal 700 club audience that money from the feds was “like a narcotic” and that charities would get hooked on them. Months later, Pat was rolling up his sleeve and praying for an uncollapsed vein . . . .
And here’s a bright idea – who do you think could do with a bit less funding this year? According to Bush, it's the National fucking Guard. That’s right, Commander Cowardice is happy to buy flowers for our freeways, but the boys and girls who’re getting their asses shot off far from home had better tighten up their belts and stop wearing through those Humvees so quickly. After all, we’re back here at home sacrificing absolutely nothing. It’s really the least they can do. We can argue all day about what it means to support the troops, but I’m pretty sure we can agree that not bouncing their paychecks is a good place to start.