Last minute dirty tricks and my rightteous outrage

I’m pissed. Yay though I walk through the valley of bullshit issues I shall fear the stupidity of the electorate, for they shall swallow this shit down. I am even too pissed to give you cites or prettyblue linkies

Misquoting Gov. Richardson then screwing his words to infer Obama will lower his tax promise to the $40k range? Baracks fucking aunt? Is he supposed to report his own aunt? Who even knows if it is true? Posting selective polls to make it look like McCain is on the move, to motivate the base? Reporting how much was spent on light in Berlin? Paparazzi’ing Obama while trick or treating with his little girl?

Oh sweet Jebus deliver me from the next 3 days of drivel and swill. I only expect it to get worse. And we may just find out that ugly wins. Nobility and honor may finally take a back seat to flinging shit. Hell that probably happened a while back.

Yay let my fury burn like Rosie’s passion for eating bon bons from Madonna’s taint.

Fuck you John McCain and your phony “honor”, your cashing in the last of the chips held in your good name to take a swipe at the last glimmer of hope of winning the Destestidentcy. Backwards we go, slipping and sliding down yesterday’s barbwire covered slide into the cesspool of war and lies. The american zombie rises to dine on the once more on the smashed brains of dead soldiers and civilians, and you dare promise victory with honor.

In your campaign stop today, your hag wife was useful only as a barometer of your fuck ups. As you fumbled your words we could watch her knit her brow in brief concern, seeing the fear mount as she knows no amount of viagra can make your aged grey matter firm once more. Then as you vomit out your most vile lies, aimed at scaring the uneducated “Name Occupations” out there to the polls, we see your bride light up with a Stepford glow. The brighter those beady eyes glow, the bigger the lie.

We know it. You are capitalizing on the ignorance of your base, trying to whip them into a frenzy in these last few days of fear.

Fuck you John McCain. Fuck you with the metaphorical cock of your Vietnamese captors. I’ll pay for the viagra to get that shrimpy flacid cock ready to ream your dusty metaphorical rectum.

For safety’s sake I’ll even pay for the condom. And after he is done, it will be flung onto the floor where it will land with a splat next to your discarded honor.

Don’t sugar-coat it, man. Tell us how you really feel. Oh, and:

Band name.

Shyeah, right. Like Cindy can knit her brow through all that Botox.