At the back of the hill

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strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Sunday, March 05, 2017


While having a drink at a karaoke place earlier this evening I realized that many of the liberal pro-Israel people with whom I used to associate have over time become Netanyahuist Trumpite putzes. Not coincidentally, many of them are no longer associates, in real life or on Facebook.

Two or three years ago this would have saddened me. Now I am actually rather cheerful over not being included in simchas, chaggim, yortzeiten, and other significant events. One of them nearly five years ago turned the private mailinglist into a personal vehicle for anti-Obama gun-nut paranoia, another one wailed about her goddam feelings and her cats (to whom she was allergic, poor little asthmatic lesbian wuss) all the time.

You precious little rightwing snowflakes.

Did Obama seize your guns?

Kill your kitty?

I'm older. More mature. Less patient. Still not likely to compromise.
And Netanyahu is still a dick.

I prefer the company of younger people with lively minds, who are not so rigid in their mental constipation that their knickers get all twisty because their emotions have taken up residence in their colons. People who can, even if not fully logical, still engage their wits when enraged, rather than their weepy whiny "I'm horribly offended" sides.
Several of my former associates need high-colonic irrigation.
To just get over their hyper-sensitive selves.

Life is good. Disassociated life is better.

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