Juno will never air in my household

I’d love to say that I can’t believe that Juno was nominated for an Oscar, but I not only readily believe it, I expected it.

Everything is wrong about this film.  Everything.

The plot synopsis is: girl has sex with a guy she isn’t even apparently dating (he’s a “friend”).  She gets knocked up.  She finds a couple to adopt her bastard.  Teen slut borders on an inappropriate relationship with the father, who is married to a harpy who denies him his friends, hobbies, and personality.  The adopting couple then apparently divorces because the man isn’t “ready to be a father.”  Teen slut has no problem letting single mom adopt the baby.  Why not?  I’m sure single mom took the future ex-husband she meticulously drove out of her life to the cleaners.  He’ll get the bill for her divorce attorney later.  The end.

An Oscar?  Are you serious?  This film is wildly inappropriate for audiences everywhere.

What frightens me is that impressionable young children whose parents are in the process of failing to raise them with any real values will look upon this Oscar-nominated dogpile as a reflection of American cultural values.

Let me remind you:

It is not okay to get knocked up at the age of 16.

It is not okay to form any kind of relationship, even a “casual friendship”, with an adult married man who is not your father at the age of 16.

It is not okay to let a single woman adopt a baby.  Especially a woman who is single because she just “no fault” divorced her husband, no matter how much alimony and child support she is capable of suing out of him.

Some values are timeless.  These are some of them.  Juno is hip, progressive, and tries to make it seem like two teenage dipshits and two adult married dipshits who have totally failed in life will still live happily ever after even though the fate that is best deserved for the characters in the movie and everyone involved in producing it is shame.

You want to watch a movie about teen pregnancy?  Go rent Grease.  The happy conclusion of that film is that Rizzo is not in fact pregnant, which thrills her because her friends no longer have to whisper in dark alleys that “Rizzo’s got a bun in the oven” and she actually has a chance at having some degree of happiness in a social climate in which teenage sluts were rightfully ostracized.

Juno, along with syndicated Murphy Brown reruns, will never air in my household, especially not before the eyes of my children, unless I’m present to describe in detail everything that is wrong with this abomination.  On second thought, maybe I’ll just make this blog required reading for my children.

The easiest way to be unhappy is to worry about it

Of all the blogs I read, one common theme seems to be this:

“I’m searching for my path through life.  I want to be happy, and obviously, working for a living, having a family, and conforming is too sheepish for me.  I have to spend my life doing something hip that I will be able to broadcast on forums such as couches at parties or internet blogs so I can be the center of attention as someone who does something unique.  I want a rich life experience, man.  Those millions of mindless herded cattle out there getting by at 9-6’s to feed kids that hate them are suckers.  I’m 24 and I’ve got it all figured out.  Well, at least I’ve got figured out what I won’t be doing.”

You’ll probably notice that I don’t write philosophical posts about how I find deep meaningful experiences through the richness of my life (which, again, from the blogs I read, pretty much involves living in a crowded, shit city and spending all their money on Armani club clothes and $11 Martinis).

Every second you spend pondering stupid shit questions such as, “am I truly happy and fulfilled?”  or, “what if this is all there is to life?” or “I don’t want to spend 40 years in a cubicle just to pay bills” is a second you could have spent thinking about getting laid instead, which I would argue is marginally more productive than trying to answer philosophical questions that only cross your mind because you’re one of most privileged human beings ever to be born and you never have to worry about eating.

Look, if you spend your time worrying about whether or not you’re happy, you never will be, because the very fact that you worry about it causes anxiety and unhappiness.

As far as the anguish against conformity goes, I have only this advice: stop watching Fight Club and American Beauty.  Stop assuming that because the majority of the “40 somethings” right now totally squandered the best possible life a human being could ever have, doing what they did will cause you the same misery.

Our parents’ generation ruined their lives by spending far too much time pondering the same question: “am I happy?”  For middle-aged men, the answer to this question was, “no, I’m not, because my wife is worn-out, old, and ugly, and I have sugar daddy potential to some dimwitted 22-year-old with a tight twat.  I should probably fuck this girl a few times until my wife divorces me and takes everything I own and my children who will subsequently resent me for splitting up the family with my uncontrollable penis and won’t speak to me in later life.  To my horror I will discover that the 22 year-old girl I ditched my mundane, boring existence for wants exactly the same things my wife wanted because I was too stupid to realize that ultimately all women want the same thing, and 20 years from now she’ll be just as old, saggy, and worn-out as my current wife but I’ll be 65 and won’t be able to get it up any more.  Furthemore, I’ll be twice as poor when mistress-turned-second-wife divorces me because she doesn’t want to be with a 65-year-old man.”

You want to know how to be happy?  I’ll tell you, and consider it a charity:

Forget whether or not you’re happy.  It doesn’t matter.  Devote all of your energy, time, and effort to making the people you love happy.  Never worry for a minute whether you’re getting equal in return.

Everything else is just stupid detail.  Life is too short to worry for a second about whether working in a cubicle is spirtually fulfilling.  None of the mechanics of what you spend your time doing is important – the only things you’ll remember are your interactions with other people.

My happiest, most fulfilling moments are when I really make my woman happy, even if I absolutely loathe everything I had to do to accomplish it.  I don’t remember that part of it.  I remember her being happy, not that I had to eat a plate of shit to make it happen.

Having this outlook is extremely hard, and everyone knows it.  99.9% of the population is simply incapable of acting this way.  Even the people who fundamentally understand the truth in this statement will desperately find reasons to call it crazy because they are afraid at how hard it is and they know they are just too weakto pull it off.  So they’ll flounder around trying to find meaning in South America, club girl pussy, unemployment, and blogging.  The answer is so simple, but it’s so hard.

But hey, look at it this way: if your biggest concern in life is finding true happiness, you’ve already won the game of life.  You’ll never spend a minute digging up swamp rats to take back to your mud hut to feed your mother and 3 siblings.  Life sure is tough, isn’t it?

If you use these phrases, you’re a dolt

Following is a list of words and phrases that, once spoken, forever and categorically demarcate you an asshole.  If you are in the habit of using this ridiculous jargon, consider youself blessed that you stumbled upon the road to salvation, i.e., this post.

1.  Triple Threat.

The media loves this one.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard dipshits on the E! channel and occasionally VH-1 describe Hillary Duff and Lindsay Lohan as “triple threats.”  The translation of this phrase, which they are naturally required to provide in the same airing because it doesn’t make any fucking sense at all, means that the subject to which this description applies is capable of singing, dancing, and acting.

Who exactly are they threatening, you morons?  Threat to who?  Threat to what?  The only threat here is that the dipshit media that covers them will kill my brain cells by uttering phrases like “triple threat” to describe them, which makes it almost like using a word in its own definition.  Stupid.

2.  Preggo (alt. preggers)

Asshats around the world are, for inexplicable reasons known only to them, drawn to replacing the English adjective “pregnant” with the “abbreviation(s)” of “preggo” or “preggers”.  I say “abbreviation” because in both cases the number of syllables is the same and in the case of “preggers” it is the same number of letters.

Why the fuck can’t you say pregnant?  I find girls are more likely to use this bizarrre vernacular than men, probably because being “pregnant” is a mark of shame for a growing number of women who get knocked up before getting married (or worse, knocked up with no intention of ever getting married or from a man whose name and identity they can’t remember, which is a fate worse than death for these sluts because they now have a baby with no one to sue for child support). 

No matter what the liberal propaganda machine says about how single motherhood is okay (e..g, the Murphy Brown show), girls whisper the word pregnant and replace it with slang because they instinctively recognize that being pregnant without a man to look after the mother and the baby is embarassing for the mother and everyone knows it.

Crap is to shit as preggers is to pregnant.  The worst are the girls who themselves are pregnant with bastards who apply these terms to themselves.  Whores, if you can’t even admit that you’re pregnant to the point that you’re reducing the power of word when you describe your condition to others, you should consider putting your baby up for adoption because you’re obviously unqualified to be a parent.

3.  Let’s agree to disagree.

Translation when spoken by a woman to a man: you won the debate but I won’t admit it.  Now that I’ve exhausted all my counters to the points you’ve so brilliantly elocuted, rather than change my stubborn, unfounded, and patently incorrect views, I’m going to hold on to them because I’m incapable of admitting when I’m wrong.  I will continue to espouse ridiculous and stupid ideas.

Translation when spoken by a man to a woman: if I succeed in proving my point, you’ll get moody and pissy.  I will have to expend extra effort tonight on things like foreplay in order to get you to forget the fact that you’re an idiot (and I can prove it) and thaw out enough for penetration, or if I take this debate too far, there’s a good chance I won’t get laid at all.  Plus, you’re likely to ignore all factual evidence in this discussion anyway since, being a woman, you have a tendency to emotionally attach yourselves to ideas no matter how absurd and are then incapable of looking at them objectively.

Translation when spoken by a woman to a woman: I hate you, bitch.  I’m not inviting you to my wedding.

Translation when spoken by a man to a man:  I secretly fantasize about being penetrated anally, and you’ve appeared a number of times.  Interested?

Every time this phrase is spoken, humanity takes a step backward.

4.  In his/her own right.

“So-and-so has become a something-or-other in his own right.”  Usually this phrase is uttered to describe some fucktard in Hollywood, usually “a writer in his own right” or “a pop star in her own right.”

I ask you only one simple question: what the fuck does this mean?  The answer is it doesn’t matter, because it’s a stupid phrase and should be eliminated from vernacular.  If you say something like this, it means you’re trying to sound artsy and hip.  What you’re actually saying to anyone who actually matters on planet earth is that you’re not worth the air you breathe.  Go die please.

5.  Comfortable in his/her/ skin.

The only time people are uncomfortable in their skin is if it’s rotting off due to herpes, genital warts, or leprosy.  People use it to mean that the subject of the phrase is not a pussy and/or is immune to usually well-deserved mockery.  The only evidence I need to support the abject absurdity of this phrase is that Maya Angelou used it to describe Hillary Clinton.  QED.

6.  Green.

“Are you living green?”  “Do you keep a green home?” ”Here are some tips you can use to make your office greener.”

Do I really need to elaborate?  This phrase is dumb on so many levels it’s hard to know where to begin.

First off, it’s totally contradictory.  Let’s review the facts.

Global warming is bad, right?  Global warming is caused by carbon emissions, right?  Emissions that are a.k.a. “greenhouse gasses” right?

Carbon emissions actually increase the amount of vegetation on the planet, you morons.  Plants breathe carbon dioxide.  In the last 100 years plant life has been flourishing because of the extra C02 in the atmosphere.  Burning oil = greener earth.

So living “green” would mean burning crap to produce C02 for the hell of it.  The only way you can rationalize the fact that “green” means “good for the environment” is that “green” usually means, “we still burn thousands of gallons of gas each year commuting to and from our offices, but once there, we recycle!”  Thus, you could argue that green means you’re recylcing paper which reduces the amount of rainforest deforestation that occurs to produce paper, but that’s a pretty huge stretch, don’t you think?

The next time someone says “I live a green lifestyle” ask them if they prefer their swimming pools, swiss cheese, and external genitalia green.  That will shut them up.

When You’re the Happiest

I strongly believe that we human beings are happiest when all of their itches are being scratched.  Most of the time, we don’t even know we’re itchy until we start scratching.

Ask me about the most fulfilling experience of my life.

Was it graduating high school?  College?  Landing that first job?

Was it losing my virginity?  Was it losing my virginity the real way?  Was it the best orgasm I ever had?

Was it buying my first house?  Growing a green, partially healthy lawn?  Building a shed with my dad?

No.

If you ask me what my most fulfilling experience has been so far, I’ll tell you this story.

One day in early last year it was very cold.  And it was very snowy.  And the roads were awful.  I was still in my shitty apartment.  My girlfriend and I were both snowed in.

We had no food.  Well, no real food anyway.

I braved the cold and walked about a mile down the road to the nearest grocery store and brought home a chicken and a few other articles we needed.  Now that I think about it, this coincidentally occurred on Valentine’s Day, so I brought my girlfriend back some flowers.

She cooked the chicken and we ate it.

Why is this an experience that I even remember let alone consider the single most fulfilling experiences of my life?

Because I was doing what a man does.  I left the cave, braved hardship, and brought food back to my woman.

I was so viscerally satisfied by all of this that I will remember it for the rest of my life.  I was scratching an itch that is so primal it is barely ever mentioned, at least not mentioned as something important.  Modernists, progressivists, and all feminists strike it down as silly and outdated (not to mention oppressive).  They can all say what they want.  They can all go to hell.  Nothing they can ever possibly say will deny how ultimately right this was.  It was an itch I needed to scratch.

The next time you catch yourself scratching an itch you didn’t know you had, consider yourself lucky you found it*.  Finding your secret itches is like striking oil.  Scratching those itches is when you’re the happiest.

*Except for itches whose scratching is illegal such as pedophilia.

Do not use 1&1 Internet Services

I had a domain package with these people (I won’t tell you what domains I own).

The only way you are allowed to pay for these services is with recurring charges to your filed credit card.

My credit card expired in August.  I received two invoices from them, both of which indicated the normally scheduled amount I owed them and a statement: “the balance will be automatically charged to your stored credit card information.”

No sweat.

Except that my credit card was expired.  Rather than call me (my number is on file and is up to date), 1&1 felt the most appropriate action would be simply to forward me to a collection agency and lock my account.

They claim they sent me an e-mail indicating that my card had expired, but I couldn’t find it.  Since my account is locked it is impossible to receive e-mail that may have been sent recently (this week, maybe?)

I called them and resolved this issue as soon as I discovered my account was locked (i.e., my e-mail stopped accepting my username/password).  This required me paying their collection agency and giving them a call with a confirmation number.  I was promised on 3 separate occasions that my account would be unlocked within an hour and 4 days later it is still locked.

Do not do any business with these people.  When I asked them why they didn’t call me.  This is the conversation:

“Why didn’t you call me before you took it upon yourself to damage my credit by forwarding me to a collection agency?  I haven’t had to login to your customer service system since I signed up for the package because it’s automatic payment.  I totally forgot that the card expired.”

“We don’t have the manpower to do that.”

“You have the manpower to forward someone to collections but not to call them first asking them to pay you?”

“That is correct.”

1&1 Internet is clearly a fly-by-night operation with shady business practices and potentially harmful consequences for their customers.

Needless to say, I immediately cancelled my contracts with them.  I suggest you do the same.

Socialist Soviet Republic of Montgomery County

I hate Montgomery County, Maryland.  I hated it so much that I spent nearly all of my monthly income to move away from it.  Far, far away.  Unfortunately I still work in Montgomery Country, Maryland (Rockville, specifically).  A small piece of me dies whenever I’m in this horrible twisted shithole of a place.

Let’s review the facts.

1.  There are no liquor stores.

This one blows my mind considering the fact that Montgomery County is on the cuff of D.C. and is filled with lawyers, politicians, and assholes who work for lawyers and politicians.  And we all know how much these people like scotch.  There are a tiny number of hard liquor licenses available in Montgomery County – it’s almost all beer and wine – which increases the Yuppiness factor by about 10 right off the bat.  And of course, we all know that this tight-assed liquor policy is actually just racism in disguise., which I’ll get to in a second. 

2.  The Yuppiness Factor is gigantic.

When driving in Montgomery County, take a minute to count the number of luxury SUVs on the roads driven by women who look like the wives of rich men.  The housing market is one of the most inflated on the planet.  Who the fuck would want to live anywhere near Rockville Pike?  That place is a congested commercialized scab on the ass of America, but the houses on either side of it, even ones overlooking metro tracks, cost at least $500,000.  There are condos – condos, mind you, not town homes – in a building local to nothing overlooking the beautiful scenic Rt. 270 that are going for $780,000 for a 1,500 square foot condo.  Real estate on the right hand of Jesus Christ doesn’t go for that kind of money when you consider the cost-benefit ratio: huge cost, awful location, terrible view, smog pollution and noise 24×7, sharing a building with other assholes who have no idea how to spend the hundreds of thousands of dollars they don’t deserve from doing some talentless job like law or wealth management.  But they have a gym on the 17th floor with a few Ikea Exerbikes, so I guess that’s worth the money.

This real estate price gouging is not unique to real estate.  Everything in Montgomery County costs 3 times what it’s worth, and it costs 1.5 times what it costs in the counties surrounding it to the north and east.  And why?  Why else?  To keep the darkies out, of course, ipso facto:

3.  Montgomery County is a passive-aggressively racist.

As much as lawyers and politicians like scotch, those darkies love them some malt liquor.  Everyone knows the black man can’t function without getting wasted off his ass all the time, so if you keep liquor stores out of the county, the negroes will live somewhere else too, like for example, Prince Georges county right next door.  As they say in MoCo, not in my backyard! 

Look, if you’re going to be racist, just follow the lead of many counties in the south and the entire state of Arkansas and just say so.  This passive-aggressive racism is lame as hell.  P.S., Asians are fine with us. 

4.  Montgomery County’s roads are a fascist nightmare

I take Wootton Parkway to get from the Darnestown/Shady Grove area to the other side of 355.  Why?  Because it is the only road that isn’t miles and miles out of the way.

Wootton Parkway has a high school on it.  Okay, fine, it’s 25mph for a stretch (it’s otherwise 35mph).

In the 2 years that I have been driving on Wootton, the following has taken place:

• Red light cameras have been installed on 8 out of the 15 or so traffic lights on the road total.  I don’t pass through most of these since they are past my office.
• One of those stupid solar powered radar signs that flash when your speed exceeds the posted limit was installed on either end of the strip right in front of the school.  There are crosswalks for the kiddies, so this is acceptable.
• The MoCo Worker’s Party petitioned the tax payers of MoCo to fund speed trap cameras in front of the school after the patsy radar sign did nothing to deter speeding between the hours of 5pm and 9pm, in other words, hours and hours after 99% of school children would be anywhere near the school.  The speed trap cameras charge you $40 if they catch you moving faster than 25mph in that zone.  You are informed that you have been charged by MoCo by a nicely enveloped letter containing a photograph of your car speeding.  Normally this could very easily be defeated simply by claiming that someone stole your car but returned it to you before you notified the police.  Since I am innocent until proven guilty, the prosecutor would have to prove that I am lying.  Since he neither could prove that nor would he waste the money, he doesn’t.  But just try using that defense against a traffic judge in MoCo.  That fascist bastard won’t get a raise unless he gets more revenue from these tickets so of course he upholds them every time despite the fact that this is an egregious violation of our rights.  Fortunately MoCo, 90% of its residents spend $40 a week on Starbucks so they laugh it off and pay the fine.
• One of those stupid solar powered radar signs that flash when your speed exceeds the posted limit was installed about 2 miles away from the school on the corner of a housing development that has a crosswalk to the other side of the street, which happens to contain a park.  This particular sign starts flashing when your speed is 30mph even though the posted limit is 35mph.   Everyone, and by everyone I mean ex-trophy wives of rich men in luxury SUVs, slam on their breaks when they see the flashing sign and reduce their speed to 25mph despite the fact that the limit is 35mph.  This behavior requires me to take any or all of the following actions: tailgate luxury SUV extremely closely until it resumes the speed of 35mph, usually about 100 yards down the road where the speed limit sign clearly indicates 35mph, flash high beams aggressively, especially at night, or sit on car horn until driver resumes 35mph speed.

How did all of this happen?  Bitchy parents with nothing to do, bitchy single mothers who like to jog with their strollers during rush hour, and divorced men who walk their dogs as an excuse to interact with sweaty spandex wearing bitchy single mothers desperately trying to get back into shape to attract a divorced sugar daddy have all complained that people “drive too fast on Wootton Parkway.”  We drive 35mph, and it’s the only goddamned road from Shady Grove to 355.  Maybe you should have thought about that before you bought your $1,000,000 3 bedroom in a development out of which you have no fucking prayer of making a left at 8:45am because we’re all trying to get to work to pay taxes to fund the very radar devices that oppress us.

5.  Montgomery County lets men into women’s bathrooms

This is the final nail in a long line of nails in the coffin of MoCo’s credibility.  Mike Adams led me to this one - stunning.  Apparently the transsexual “community” has decided that they are discriminated against because shemales still have to use men’s bathrooms.  This probably tips off the straight guy they’re flirting with at the bar that something is hideously amiss when she has to slip into the men’s room.  In an effort to eliminate this discrimination, which is clearly MoCo’s top priority (that and installing new speed trap cameras on major thoroughfares populated by assholes), MoCo passed a law that makes it legal for pretty much anyone to enter a woman’s bathroom at any time.  Here is the anti-discrimination text which defines which criteria cannot be used to stop a person from entering a bathroom or shower marked as “women only”:

 “An individual’s actual or perceived gender, including a person’s gender-related appearance, expression, image, identity, or behavior, whether or not those gender-related characteristics differ from the characteristics customarily associated with the person’s assigned sex at birth.”

So all I need to do is claim that I self-identify as a woman, regardless of the fact that I neither look, behave, or act with any of the “gender-related characteristics customarily associated with [my] assigned sex at birth” which happens to be male.  I’m really glad MoCo passed this bill.  It’s hard to imagine that anyone could do anything to make MoCo a worse place to live or work, but leave it to the assholes in charge to make purgatory even shittier.  Here are the consequences of this bill:

• Men will start using women’s bathrooms because for 30 or 40 seconds they really did gender-identify as women, scout’s honor.  The number of cases of men with multiple personalities reported in MoCo will skyrocket.  Most of these men will be convicted or suspected sex offenders who coincidentally have exactly 2 personalities: the first is their normal self, but the second is a lesbian female personality who has two interests.  The first is urination.  The second is photography and cinema.
• Women will start using men’s bathrooms when theirs are crowded (always).  Men will no longer be able to ever take shits and many women will descend into the vulgar, crude, and sometimes erotic habit of learning to piss in urinals.  I foresee many spontaneous explosion at bars and clubs.  The cause: men will have to restrain from farting loudly in the men’s room because their dates will just come in with them.  Not wanting to wait in the long female/shemale/sex-offender bathroom line, she will just come with her date to the men’s room.  Why not?  If shemales can pull a switcheroo, then so can totally straight women.  After all, anything less would be discrimination based on birth-assigned gender.  And she’ll always seem to want to go with her date because even though like a good little generation 2 feminist she’ll never admit that she won’t feel safe without a man committed to her safety in the men’s room, she won’t feel safe without a man committed to her safety in the men’s room.
• The number of rapes, sexual assualts, and hidden toilet camera porn sites will jump through the fucking roof and we’ll have only the dumbass liberals to blame.

I really do understand this new legislation.  This is only one of the most fundamental and basic human traditions that nearly every culture throughout natural history has adopted.  I can see why this has to be changed.  No progressive regime would be caught dead following traditions that are thousands of years old.  Do we live in caves?  Please, this is 2008.  We are totally above using putting heiroglyphics on doors indicating who’s allowed to enter.  40 years ago blacks couldn’t drink from white-only drinking fountains.  Today, it’s unacceptable that we partition any space – water fountain, restaurant, bathroom, on any criteria that separates people, for example, “birth-assigned gender”.  I mean, what if we changed the man and woman icons with a cross and a Star of David?  That would be totally illegal, right?

Even in indigenous Brazilian tribes where the girls think nothing of dancing in ceremonies totally ass naked, they still have a separate area to crap than men, or at the very least they do it at different times.  Why?  Because we men are animals.  While most civilized men are above rape period, there’s a surprisingly large number of men (i.e., men who haven’t had sex in a long period of time, such as 8 days) who might find their moral obligation not to rape girls hard to obey when they’ve got a woman with her pants off in the stall next to them.  Haven’t the feminists been claiming that all men are rapists for 40 years?  I’ve got a great idea.  Give men access to a woman’s gym shower and let’s prove them right.

Fuck Montgomery County.  Thank God I live in Frederick.

How Much Change is Enough?

All I hear from candidates from both camps in ‘08 is “Change.”  Does anybody ever stop to ask them how much change is enough?

Just listen to this Hillary quote from the campaign trail and you’ll see what I mean:

“I want to make change, but I’ve already made change!” she exclaimed. “I’m running on 35 years of change.”

I am a regular guy and I am just plain confused.

What is it that needs to be changed?  Bush?  The constitution guarantees that he will be changed after at most 8 years.  Bush’s policies?  Which ones, the ones you voted against before you voted for, or voted for before voted against, the ones you’ve always been against, or the one for which you’re “for change”?

Change for the sake of change.  The implication of course is that the change will be for the better.  This is the attitude that drives men to ditch their bitch menopausal wives for 24 year-old mistresses with firm gravity-unaffected tits and a winning attitude.

So Hillary’s running on 35 years of change, huh?  35 years and she’s still finding things she wants to change.  I can only draw two conclusions from this sentiment: first, that “running on change” really means “failing to change”, naturally discounting such excuses as “I didn’t have the power to make the changes I really want to make” despite simultaneously claiming that 8 years as the president’s wife is experience.  I guess if you’re willing to accept that being married to the guy in charge even when you’re incapable of making the changes you now proclaim the nation desperately needs counts as experience this might make sense.   Second, Hillary’s the kind of woman who redecorates her sun room every 6 months because she’s unhappy with the paint, the drapes, the rug, the chair, the baubles adorning it, or merely to occupy the time she wasn’t using to accomplish anything in the 1990’s such as socialized medicine, thank you God.

Change, change, change.  Everything except the same shit that political advisors on every campaign have advised is fetch in 2008: this nation needs a change.

Boooooring.  Come on back when you have an actual agenda.  I’ll tell you what needs a change: your message.

Strike One

Eat shit Hillary.

 OBAMA 2008, AMIRITE?