some drink and get sad. some drink and cry. some drink and get angry. some drink and say gay people take it up the ass. some drink and call police officers ’sugar tits’. some drink and assert the jews are responsible for all the wars in the world. some drink and beat their girlfriends because they ‘deserved’ it. some drink and claim they see a bitch in heat or a vegas whore. some drink and call the help ‘wetback’. some drink and bring up being ‘raped by a pack of niggers’. one guy does all of these but the first two…which is sad and can make you want to cry.

the only thing lost is all your time…

clearly papal infallibility does not begin prior to holding the office…

a james cameron movie is in it’s essence a porno: nothing but a fantastic look, unrealistic action and the thinnest of plots to get to the money shot.

finally it has been said aloud was has been apparent for years by an authority of the body no less, one of chicago’s finest, roger ebert:

” i am happy to say it brings back an element sadly missing in recent movies, gratuitous nudity. sexy women would ‘happen’ to be topless in the 1970s movies for no better reason than that everyone agreed, including themselves, that their breasts were a genuine pleasure to regard — the most beautiful naturally occurring shapes in nature, i believe. now we see breasts only in serious films, for expressing reasons.”

clearly a man with a preference and only the question remains to be answered:

“what-a good is all the violence in the world unless
it is toppled with limitless sex?”

after all is said and done, a final request remains to be completed, a task to finish off what has been started, the coupe de grace to the day and a simple entreaty to make it all worthwhile:

“put your fingers up my ass, are you deaf?”

while novel in it’s label, the notion of a “death panel” is hardly the concept du jour the extreme would have you believe. for years now the american medical industrial complex has operated quite successfully a variety of death panels offering a multitude of denied claims and final solutions under the palatable moniker “health maintenance organization”, more commonly referred to as an “H.M.O.”

somewhere over the rainbow way up high sits the king of pop in conversation not with the king of rock ‘n roll, but she whose life’s trajectory was similar to his own, judy garland.

“the king is gone but he’s not forgotten…”

and so the plot thickens with the saga of mark sanford’s mysterious disappearance with one question being “what was he doing in argentina?” if mystery is involved as well as argentina, it’s obvious that mystery booty must be involved…what else could drive a republican beyond his country’s borders without explanation than virally phenomenal ass?

conceivably rape in war is the precedent, yet the notion that a political ideology could be asserted through prison sex seems uniquely american. big government opponents and states’ rights advocates obviously can unite under the banner of encouraging the systematic sexual assault of prisoners thereby limiting the federal governments influence and the socialistic tendency to compassion for the human condition. perhaps mark sanford’s plans for rejecting stimulus funds ought to have included a plank for emboldening jailhouse predators…rather than a long walk to nowhere.