You know, it’s easy to laugh at Drooling Al Gore and his rantings and ravings about the “digital brownshirts”. After all, the poor, pathetic waste of skin is quite clearly clinically insane, the result of a blow to an already fragile ego.
How can you not laugh at such a pitiful spectacle? Well, we guess you could cry instead, but it’s hard to muster any compassion for creatures like that, even though it would probably be the Christian thing to do.
Besides, the only alternative feeling that would be appropriate would be boiling, relentless fury at having a useless ne’erdowell like the AlBot cheapening the true horrors of people living under the heel of Nazi tyranny by comparing people that don’t agree with him to the swine that murdered millions.
They’re dying off at an ever increasing rate, those people who were lucky enough to survive Adolf Hitler’s stormtroopers (and some of them, given what they saw, don’t consider themselves all that “lucky” at all), but some of them are still alive.
I can’t even imagine what they would be thinking if they ever heard that screaming, ranting, raving lunatic Al “Where’s my Thorazine” Gore state, for the record, that what they went through under Nazi occupation was no worse than him having to “endure” pundits calling him names.
Perhaps I should ask my 84-year-old grandmother. She’d kick his ass into the next century and she wouldn’t even break a sweat. Then again, she might not. She’d never kick a cripple, mental or otherwise. She’s just not that kind of person.
And what she went through is nothing compared to what LC & IB Lambertus Meyer’s father did, nothing at all.