Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Gentles, Cover Your Eyes

Because I'ma rip a new asshole out of Karl Rove, that pasty-ass motherfucker.

After Rove, that pasty-ass motherfucker, resigned before his fucking ass was indicted so he'd have to spill his fucking guts about the only slightly-less-assholish Scooter Fucking Libby and their fucking bullshit about, you know, spitefully putting a human being's life in fucking danger, Turd Blossom is working like a fucking Klansman at a cross burning to hype a fucking book, a motherfucking book which will probably be so filled with lies, fucking lies, and utter fucking Rovian God-damned bullshit that there won't be any other reason not to include a chapter titled "Why I'm Not Really a Fucking Asshole."

Because Rove, that pasty-ass mothefucker, is lying like a fucking asshole again. AGAIN. For Christ's sake. Look at this fucking bullshit.

Are you fucking kidding me? Congress is to blame? You shithead, you fucking shithead, did you fucking fall off your George Bush hobby horse and land on your fucking watermelon-sized head? If you really think that those of us out here in Left Blogistan who HATE your FUCKING GUTS can't just find the fucking evidence to prove what you say is total horseshit, then you're an even more cynical asshole than even I would have thought. Naah, fuck that, I always knew it. Asshole.

And hey, Charlie Rose, what the fuck, man? Give that pasty-ass motherfucker a whole hour? What the fuck? Why couldn't you just tell him to go and do to himself what he's already done to the rest of the country? Bang! Boom! Am I right, people? Seriously, why give this fuckhead any kind of a platform to bullshit his way out (and by "bullshit his way out," I mean "fucking lie like a fucking liar's kung-fu master of lying") of the fucking hose job he performed on this country for seven fucking years? Not only is he a fucking crook, fucking liar, and a fucking asshole, he's also a fucking spin doctor who won't rest until every God-damned untruth he's shit out onto our rapidly-eroding soil has become Goebbeled into angry-white-guy, NASCAR-fucking-Dad "truth." Asshole.

I know he's got a wife and kids who probably aren't the fucking spawn of evil, but I'm afraid it's too late for them. (Although I would love to read a "Rove, wife to split" headline sometime soon. Perhaps she and I could date.) While Rove, that pasty-ass motherfucker, lives still, we as a race are doomed to be looked upon by the gods as nothing better than a petri dish full of gullible, stupid, asshole parameciuae. But soon, I hope, he'll die. And I will eat Jay's Cheezlets while dancing the fucking Lindy Hop on his maggot-ridden, lime-stenched grave. I hope his CV has been vetted enough to justify my hatred, but the Bush administration relly passed the fucking Rubicon with Scooter Libby and Plamegate, and Rove, that pasty-ass motherfucker, was all over that shit, getting his weekly rim job from Robert Novak and telling everyone else that there was fucking yellowcake all over the fucking Middle East ready to pop a yellowcake cap in our asses and camel-rape our children. Which of course, was bullshit. And he knew it. And he lied about it. Like everything else on his fucking resume, cause he's a fucking piece of shit.

Maybe all this cursing is blunting my message. You think? Oh well. I'll stop now. But a word to the wise, Charlie Rose, you and all the pundit-classholes who'll knock themselves out trying to fellate this guy when his book comes out, I'll quote Dave Moss (Ed Harris) in the film version of David Mamet's masterpiece, Glengarry Glen Ross:

"Anybody who talks to this asshole's a fuckin' asshole."

Well put. Fuck you, Turd Blossom.


At 11:19 AM, Blogger Stuart Shea said...

Charlie Rose is...what's worse than a jock-sniffer? A sniffer of dirty, sweaty, fetid jockstraps?


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