This blogger might not have communicated his ideology correctly to the conservative yutzes in the cigar lounge. Which is not entirely regrettable. "Hey bald dipshit, can I give your dog a biscuit?" "Sure, socialist dude!"
There are far worse things than being called a socialist.
A balding rightwing dilwad, for instance.
Yeah, I'd like to see "things" happen.
Mass slaughter in particular.
Republican death.
I've kind of had it with America's privileged classes, and really wouldn't mind if revolutionary forces exsanguinated several thousand of them, burning down their gated communities in that process.
Which would mean that Marin and Palo Alto would be desolate.
No problem. We'd survive their extinguishment.
Hell, we would probably thrive.
Fudge them.
Tomorrow and Saturday our city fathers wish us to burn out by protesting far away from Crissy Field, where bible-flogger Trump-supporting asshats will be singing Christian songs and testifying to the warm soggy feeling that Donald Trump, Michael, Savage, and Paul Ryan give them.
The vast amorphous masses smell blood.
Let the hunger games begin.
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PERSIMMONS AND YAUCHOI
During the day it rained, albeit not very long. Which meant trying to find an umbrella. Something I haven't needed in months. Autumn is ...
4 comments:
The ever creative denizens of your city are preparing the Turd Reich to welcome the Trumptards.
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/aug/24/san-francisco-dog-poo-protest-patriot-prayer-rally
M
"Turd Reich: San Francisco dog owners lay minefield of poo for rightwing rally"
That's a headline that begged to be written.
Haven't you heard: "you can't cry wolf in a crowded theater".
That's a good mixed metaphor.
Not really applicable, though.
We're not a theatre. More like hot house snow flakes. Or even, judging from the linked article above ("reich"), angry sheep flinging poo.
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