I got pretty excited about Peggy Noonan, but it was about the stuff that got cut. Then there was that crap about the King James version of the bible, Anglicans, go figure, never mind. Where'd the headline writer get his idea about a cold man? What? Because he's dead? I still don't get it and I've been thinking about it all day. One of those journalism things where they test you on facts not in the story, no doubt. And I was in such a good mood.
Then I had the bright idea to rewrite the litany of injustice that was the king's doing. And just about all those guys who signed the Declaration of Independence got clipped one way or another. Where were all you skirts back then? Gun too heavy? Couldn't find a tree branch?
So I started a list of injustice to lay at the feet of the Congress, bless their rotten little hearts. It flowed like the Snake River in April. Now if I could just get this text to wrap around the next pictue, I would be happy. What do you expect? They don't call it push-button publishing for nothing. Push the button and it does what it wants, just like those assholes inside the beltway, never mind.
Happy Fourth of July! Hope the bastards where you live will sell you some fireworks. Otherwise, ask a friend in New Mexico or Wyoming to bring you some and shoot them off, anyway.
By the way, Mr. President, get stuffed! You and Skip Gates can drink yourselves silly on some fine British kerosene in the Rose Garden. And Dr. Gates, the report I just read said both you and Officer Barrett had an opportunity to ratchet down that confrontation at your house. Looks like you could have demonstrated your moral superiority to the white man, but missed it. I hate it when I miss it. Guess you missed In the Heat of the Night, too. Why aren't you hangin' with the loyalist bro' in Canada, celebrating diversity like a Hindu, or are you just not that kind of Negro? Maybe you and your pal O'Bummer will take etiquette lessons from Chris Rock.
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