First off, His Curmudgeonly Eminence, Francis Porretto, has a few words to add to the ShirtStorm (as well as some other excellent points that you really ought not to miss).

Looks like he, ourself, Jeff Goldstein, Mike Hendrix and Sarah Hoyt, just for starters, ought to found an Outlaw Blogger Gang dedicated to not giving a damn inch to the Prozi thought police and the spineless wankers on the “right” who like to submissively urinate all over their own bared tummies every time the Glittery Hoo Has give them the evil eye. The logo on our colors could be a one-fingered salute offered by a scantily clad female suggestively hugging a gun. Or braining a baby seal.

Of course, the real challenge would be to convince Her Imperial Majesty that her Royal Husband really needs a bike. If we took out a $4 million life insurance it might work.

“Now I’m Just Somebody That You Used to Know…”

That ought to be the soundtrack of the following video neatly encapsulating, in two minutes, what GruberGate is all about and how the lying liars in the Lie House are once again lying about the lies they lied when they lied about their previous lies.

Herr Gruber ought to read up on Vince Foster. It might come in handy for him in the upcoming weeks.

The lying liars in the ObolaMedia and their handmaidens in the Prozi Blogosphere are busy pretending that nothing in the above was ever said and that, besides, Herr Gruber, the “most brilliant economist in the universe” who, until recently, was “the architect behind ObamaCare”, is no longer anything but an unknown somebody who never had anything to do with ObamaCare at all, for which the Lie House paid him $400,000 and change.

The wheels of the Obola Bus go round and round…

Quit Calling Me Mean Names!

Kaci “Ebola Mary” Hickox who absolutely would not, under any circumstances, muster one single solitary fuck about her potentially infecting Americans with Ebola is now terribly upset that Americans won’t muster one single solitary fuck about her being upset about being called names.

Terribly sorry (no, we’re not, but our exalted station requires that we be able to at least pretend to decorum occasionally), Lady Kari of Ebola, but last we checked your hurt feelings don’t quite rate on the same scale as the potential for seeing innocent Americans bleed to death from their eyeballs just because you can’t be arsed to take three weeks off work with pay to watch Netflix.

We’d be happy to meet you halfway by not calling you “nurse” anymore, however. After all, being a nurse requires no small amount of consideration for your fellow human beings, not to mention at least a modicum of understanding of the dangers of infectious diseases, how to combat them, the precautionary principle and basic epidemiology, none of which are in evidence in your selfish, arrogant, narcissistic behavior.

So how about “Ebola Kaci?” “Ebola, E-b-ola Ebooola…” “Kaci the Ebola Snatch?”

Pick one.


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By Emperor Misha I

Ruler of all I survey -- and then some.

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