May 29, 2009
Loyal subjects of the Crown: Hussein Obomber and that salope Sarkozy can go sod themselves!
Elizabeth R. has been blackballed from this year’s D-Day commemorations in Normandy — and the fact that Obama and Sarkozy, who disinvited her, are both socially lower than a snake’s belly only adds insult to injury. My apologies for linking to the Upper West Side Slimes, Jayson Blair’s far-left birdcage liner of record, but they were first to break this story stateside I believe. The Daily Mail’s take: “Palace fury as Sarkozy refuses to invite royals to 65th Anniversary,” with appropriate details about that Glaswegian tub of guts Gordo Brown’s complicity in the snub.
One hates to say “I told you so,” especially to borderline lèse-majesté, but lie down with dogs and you get fleas. Conservatives warned back in April that Her Majesty shouldn’t receive Calypso Barry and Miss Hell Obomber, but noblesse oblige evidently got the better of her. The monarch should have taken a leaf from her feisty grandson, Prince Harry, who as your humble servant noted back in January seems blissfully uncorrupted by multiculturalist (i.e. anti-European) agitprop.
Pictured above: The First Dragqueen rubs the Royal Person with her great galumphing paw of a man-hand, as she might another transvestite during some crack-fuelled lip-synch of “I Will Survive.”
Really, to paraphrase Sir Alan Clark’s wife, you can expect this sort of thing when you have below-stairs Anglophobes round for drinks. QEI, Gloriana, the virgin Bride of England, wouldn’t have boarded her least-favorite dog with the Obamas, let alone spoken to them socially.
Elizabeth I, the Rainbow Portrait: “I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and a king of England too, and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe should dare to invade the borders of my realm.”
And Sarkozy? A glorified fishmonger.
Voici M. la Grenouille-en-Chef avec sa putain — you know, Carla Bruni, the dopey slut who recently dragged her name into the headlines by sassing the Patriarch of Rome on the Christian teaching against contraception. A subject with which she’s become most intimately familiar, perforce, during long years spent screwing her bowlegged way to the Élysée Palace. In this photo, her legs are kept from flying apart only by Sarko’s crushing grip, inherited from his gold-grasping cit forebears, who knew to pinch a penny ’til it squeaked:
And that great, rawboned, Korean toaster of a head — can it be Bruni’s a drag queen too?
January 5, 2009
(L) President-eject and p(u)issant master of the universe Barack Hussein Osama, shown taking a short break from his godly work of lowering the seas, healing the planet and exposing survivors of uterine infanticide. (R) Rushing into the gap left by the forcible expulsion of Bill Richardson (D-NM) from the seat of Commerce Secretary, Dhimmicrat time-servers display their credentials for high office to the President-eject.
December 2, 2008
“Do you know what they do to soft, bald, overweight [men] in prison, Ernest?” — Madeleine in Death Becomes Her
(Blancmange, GA) Jim Martin, Obama stooge and Dhimmicrat candidate for Saxby Chambliss’ (R-GA) Senate seat, staged a rally last night in Atlanta with three close personal friends from the country club. Pictured left to right: T.I., Young Jeezy, Martin and Ludacris. The three caps (on their heads, not in your ass, thank you) are all accomplished musicians. T.I. is a master of the classical violin while Jeezy is known to opera audiences from Sydney to St Petersburg for roles such as Pamino, Lohengrin and Calaf; Ludicrous meanwhile honed his a cappella talents in the choir of King’s, Cambridge while also earning a double first in classics and maths.
Dashing Dhimmicrat Martin, frequently described as a weaker-chinned Mitch McConnell or a doughier Harry “My Pencil’s Outta Lead” Reid, has pledged if elected to bend over backward to help grease the skids for president-elect Sen. Uterine Infanticide (D-IL) and the First Dragqueen, who’s moved on up to a subtle twelve-carat diamond on her big right hand.
Pictured (l to r): Sexist limpwrist; racist blowhard.
Sen. B. Hussein Obama (Weatherman – IL) recently cut an ad denigrating Gov. Palin’s habit of winking to underscore a point she’s making to an audience; the Dhimmicrat is trying to make sexist hay with the governor’s gesture by implying it’s somehow weak or femmy. (If such qualities were actually disqualifiers for high office then Chickenlegs himself would, of course, have to be rushed to the nearest hospital for an emergency masculinity transfusion.)
But Sarah-cuda or rather her backers didn’t take this one sitting down. In rejoinder, here’s the Team Sarah ad, apparently in defiance of McCain’s palsied, hopeless little rules about not bringing up B. Hussein’s twenty-year tutelage by ordained-through-the-mail-with-cereal-boxtops Rev. Jerrummayah Uhwrighat (my attempted transliteration of the old thug’s patois).
Barky’s pretty lucky he’s only running against a polite old gentleman of 72 who pussyfoots around the terrorist padrino and the seditious preacher. If that hurricane of élan vital Gov. Palin were the nominee, she’d have long ago done to Barky Hussein what Jesse Jackson yearned to do – except, alas, that Barky’s feral wife long ago nipped ’em off with her lower teeth and keeps ’em in her sack. Her purse I mean.
Vagina dentata. (Not pictured: tucked phallus and scrotum.)
Why’s Miss Priss bitching – and that’s all it is, bitching – about Gov. Palin’s wink anyway? ’Cause it’s a delightful vernacular touch the Punahou Pimp can never simulate no matter how many gs he labors to drop from his participles – and ’cause reptiles can’t nictitate, right? Except when spitting poison with their forked tongues.
October 30, 2008
“I’m as corny as Kansas in August…”: Mary Martin as Obamatard prole Chris Matthews (minus the paunch).
Your faithful blogging servant’s rather pressed with my day job today, candid readers, but in the interest of your having something toothsome to read (and mirthful to gaze on) herewith a few bons mots from Mark Steyn in today’s National Review:
This is an amazing race. The incumbent president has approval ratings somewhere between Robert Mugabe and the ebola virus. The economy is supposedly on the brink of global Armageddon. McCain has only $80 million to spend, while Obama’s burning through $600 mil as fast as he can, and he doesn’t really need to spend a dime given the wall-to-wall media adoration. And tonight Chris Matthews’ doctors announced that his leg tingle has metastasized leaving his entire body like a vibrating cellphone whose ringtone is locked on “I’m In Love, I’m In Love, I’m In Love, I’m In Love, I’m In Love With A Wonderful Guy.”
And yet an old cranky broke loser is within two or three points of the King of the World. Strange.
Just so. Here’s the tall, dark and handsome Matthews in a typical pose:
I’m gonna wash that man right outta my hair… As soon as I grow some. Aside from out my ears and nostrils, I mean. Sling me some more of that corned beef hash, Ma — puts hair on your back!
So, just as the Daley Democrats did in Illinois, 1960, along with several thousand of LBJ’s closest deceased friends in Texas, be sure to vote early, and often. The Dhimmicrats certainly are, snuffling their snouts through a nice rich trove of moldy ACORNs in the gloomy forests of Ohio. Thus this:
I say, just let John McCain channel his inner Dick Nixon for five minutes (my beloved homeboy, born and now lying at rest just a few miles east of here in Yorba Linda). Then ain’t no skinny slick Harvard-educated pimp in the world gonna cheat him out of his victory, dead man voting or no.
October 17, 2008
As various MSM polls in the last two weeks, conveniently loaded with more Democrats than Republicans, seemed to show McCain/Palin down by a large margin, your faithful servant has been amused — and disgusted — to see a rustling pack of “conservative” journalists throw principles overboard and, tripping over their tails in their haste, try to flee the sinking McCain/Palin ship. (It’s now apparent that McCain/Palin is actually buoying up big-time, per the latest polling, but more on that shortly.)
It’s a ratty rogues’ gallery of time-servers, temporizers and prosy tools: Christopher Buckley, now formerly of National Review; David Brooks of the New York Times (the nose-picker pictured above), Peggy Noonan of the Wall Street Journal, Rod Dreher of the Dallas Morning News, to name just four. Bitten by a gnawing lust for a seat at the table in the imminent Obama new order, these sharp-toothed little Rattus republicanus have turned squeaking to bite a chunk from the hand that feeds them (for each name I’ve just named, the feeding, or payment for feed, is literally true).
And what an infernal din of squeaks it’s been, too! We’ve witnessed the unseemly spectacle of hypocrite, heavy-lidded mandarins filing giggly man-crush columns with National Review: Obama “a first-class temperament and a first-class intellect” (he is neither), for which Bill Buckley’s old journal, to stop the old boy spinning in his grave, promptly fired his quisling brat.
But it hasn’t just been Cwis Buckwey dancing in front of the barbarian army like some dopey Ten Commandments extra, strewing rose petals before the conquering hero. (An image that’s doubly funny because, I mean, try to imagine Obama wielding anything more lethal than a fingernail file! Which, of course, the brave slanderer of our fighting men in Afghanistan would only use to pick on someone smaller than his own size: yes, he’d doubtless brandish it at the defenseless babies who survive doctor-assisted infanticide in Illinois.)
No, there are even fouler toads burrowed into the MSM muck who’ve been sticking a knife in the back of McCain/Palin when it seemed opportune. The toads in question are, believe it or not, further down the scale of life even than Cwis Buckwey, dutifully polishing his Mulatto Messiah’s fundament with tongue-brush. There are some backbiting Grub Street dogs — mostly neo-conservatives, and what a joke that, as if men with City College Leninists for fathers could be trusted to love America — who’ve found that the MSM will dish out a horse’s hoof or two if they sharpen their tongues against McCain or Palin personally, over and above merely laving Obama’s backside.
One toad in particular has descended to the occasion: the fetid, cross-eyed finger-drummer David Brooks, now mildly infamous for his outpouring of calumny and trash on Sarah Palin (the adipose sweater called her a “cancer” in the Republican party at some dull Atlantic panel, where he inhaled big plates of the free lunch between betrayings). On his NewsHour with Jim Lehrer segments, Brooks’ sweaty, seat-squirming twitchiness suggests a schizophrenic just barely keeping it together — or should we infer that the obviously well-fed Brooks has just fouled, or is about to, his small-clothes? In Brooks’ case, one should perhaps feels pity since his daily bread, in the form of those disjoint, constipated columns he squeezes out for the New York Slimes, may very well depend on hailing the conquering Obamatard hero.
Still, just ’cause Judas may have actually needed those30 pieces of silver to make his condo payment, doesn’t mean I can’t despise him for it. Unlike the man who betrayed Christ, however, we’ll probably wait in vain for the loathsome Brooks to develop enough decency to step outside and hang himself, and in any case if he were to “burst asunder in the midst, and all his bowels gushed out” the pile-up might block traffic on Columbus Avenue for hours.
David Brooks in his natural environment.
The perspiring amphibian Brooks and his knives in the back are, however, nothing new to the skeptical student of human nature. Veterinarians report that there are tapeworms more loyal to the horse’s intestines, than Brooks to benefactors — but he’s just the latest and smallest worm in a long line of them. Yes, Booger Dave is what the Roman historian Velleius Paterculus memorably called the late Republican consul Plancus, a morbo proditor — a “chronic traitor,” or possibly “a betrayer by reason of congenital defect.” The whole history of the late Roman republic, in fact, is more than a little in my mind these days, with its glum tale of all those Romans, low and high, who betrayed family, rank and even nation to help install the rabble-rousing upstart Octavian in supreme power as Augustus Caesar — thinking they’d be thrown a bone in the new order. Trying to do my bit to satirize and condemn the David Brooks and Cwis Buckweys, the chronic traitors of 2008, I can’t do better than quote the great historian Sir Ronald Syme on the end of the Roman republic:
Superfluous the effort either to arraign or to rehabilitate the robust careerists who helped to found the monarchy. Like violence, guile and treachery prospered. Q. Dellius, proverbial for agility, deserted every side at the right moment… Plancus could smile at the impotent envy of his detractors and the ignoble appellation of a chronic traitor — “morbo proditor.” Fools or fanatics perished along with lost causes: the traitors and time-servers survived, earning the gratitude of the Roman people. (The Roman Revolution, 511-12)
Quite. But now, lo and behold! It seems that Booger Brooks, Cwis Buckwey, Mad Meg Noonan and Rod BeDreher may have sharpened their knives a moment too soon! You can visit Real Clear Politics or Gallup or any of the other poll sites — or better yet, visit Drudge because his headlines get right to the point and aren’t varnished with pro-Obama frosting. Or simply visit Gateway Pundit’s tasty, succinct summary of the new polling situation following McCain’s smackdown of Miss Priss in the last debate on Wednesday. It seems that McCain/Palin is now buoying up big-time in the latest polling — and the opportunist Obama flatterers, who formerly got away with calling themselves conservatives, are left hoist on their own petard, their tiny, tiny generative parts flapping in the breeze. And I for one can’t get enough of it! More egg for their faces!
As Dick Morris and a few other stone-cold steel-trap analysts have been saying for days, Obama’s polling almost certainly peaked last week, and will probably continue to bleed a point or so every three days from now until the election, as all the dippy sheeple who liked the way it felt when the ObaMessiah tickled their ears — much like the idiot who kept hitting himself on the head with a hammer, because he liked how it felt when he stopped — gulp and get bug-eyed and feel the shakes of buyer’s remorse at the thought of actually, for real, putting this far-Left amateur in the White House. And not a moment too soon.
October 8, 2008
Affirmative action = unqualified.
At 30 seconds into clip:
O: “Now Sen. McCain suggests that somehow, ya know, I’m green behind the ears, ’n’ I’s just spoutin’ off, ’n’ he’s somber and responsible…”
McC: “Thank you very much!”
Ipse dixit. Out of the mouths of babes in the woods. Obambi IS green, and wet behind the ears too. The One’s Freudian slip is forever showing in the debates, and he needs to launder it.
“Green behind the ears” eh? There’s no greater menace – and bore – than an educated fool.
Perhaps if Sen. Infanticide spent time listening to rural Americans instead of slandering our “clinging” to the First and Second Amendments, he’d pick up the lingo and not sound like an effete snob in class drag. Which he is. Somebody crack an egg on the Marxist’s pointy head!
P.S.: You can over-pronounce “PAW-KEE-STUN” like a smeary-spectacled high school debater till you’re blue in the face (not green behind the ears) – the Pakistanis will still despise you for a weakling.