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Ain't love the sweetest thing

By Michael J. Smith on Monday November 24, 2008 12:25 AM

She hath no loyal Knight and true,
The Lady of Shalott.
My liberal, Obamaphile friends are rapidly losing their sense of humor.

Oddly enough, it was more or less OK for me to be a Grinch before the election. Now, however, it seems to be in very poor taste. I'm getting a lot of sour looks and testy emails, when I chortle about Rahm Emanuel, and Tom Daschle, and Larry Summers, and Hillary, Hillary, Hillary.

My friends fell in love, it seems; and the love-object is, well, dumping them -- dumping them with almost indecent haste.

Oh yeah, sure, it's kinder to dump an ex-lover quickly and briskly, instead of drawing it out. But there's something creepy about a person whose heart is so much under his control that he can act on this undoubtedly sound principle, and never turn a hair.

The mirror crack'd from side to side;
"The curse is come upon me," cried
The Lady of Shalott.

Comments (9)

Son of Uncle Sam:

I've listened to preachers
I've listened to fools

We've all had friends in failing relationships who's denial ultimatly lead to cocaine parties, group sex, and alcoholism. If you lost your house, maybe your job, and banked on the presidency to help you... or even if you didn't... whats holding good americans back from living those rock star dreams now?
Mental wounds not healing
Who and whats to blame
I'm going off the rails on
the crazy train


I suspect that the slogan for the next four years will be:

"Obama - He's really not that into you."

You've so absolutely nailed it, Smiff.

You know of course, the proper way to invoke the name of Hillary is to chant it reverently, fervently, three times: Hillary, Hillary, Hillary!

Or, as that nasty old Manhattanoid broad in that video footage says, Hill-ah-ray!

But, seriously.

Ever since Bubba's first term, I've gotten an up-close-and-personal look at the Donkeycratic Party treats its "Left", and it's a classic spousal abuse pattern. He beats her and fucks up her head, and tells her shit like how nobody cares and how she's got noplace else to go; she eventually despairs to the point of actually believing him, and just hoping that he'd change, but of course he doesn't and -- as I understand, in many cases -- eventually beats her to death some night.

This first hit me early in the '96 campaign, just after Ralph Nader had announced for the Greens and there was this small but noticeable rippling of scoffing and dissing -- which barely disguised the smell of fear -- coming from the Donkeycrats' general direction, most specifically in the form of a quote in a Washington Post article from some high-level White House flack whose name escapes me, saying the the DP Left "had noplace to go" in terms of how to vote in '96. This, of course, after Somalia, Waco, NAFTA, an attempt to pass a version of the Patriot Act, an attempt to impose direct state censorship of the Internet, oh, I could go on, but, anyway...

I've often wished that the DP leadership would just grow a goddamn' pair, already, and just go on TV together and look us all -- us all, being those of us on the Desperately Hopeful Pwogwessive "Left" -- right in the eye, and tell us to go fuck ourselves...and in those exact words, too. Get 'em a goddamn' exemption from the FCC for the half-hour it should take that whole crew to get up in front of the the camera and tell us that they never cared about us and never will, and that we should just kiss their rosy-red asses, take a goddamn' hike and go fuck ourselves...just so perhaps we'll know a hundred percent where we stand regarding the Donkeycratic Party, get off our asses, and move on.

(heh, heh, I said 'MoveOn')


"...it's a classic spousal abuse pattern."

Well, yes and no. With regards to the faux-liberal left and their pwoggie-bloggie legions it's more like a con game. A classic drop swindle where the democratic party pretends to find a wallet full of progressive policies in the street the same time as the mark/voter. The DP trades the wallet for money and votes, then disappears into the night leaving the pwog with a handful of empty promises and a stupid look on his face.

But here's the thing. Not only is the pwog too stubborn to admit he's been had, but he hilariously claims he knew it was a con all along - and he's proud he fell for it, because, well, at least it wasn't as bad as being mugged by the republicans!

And that is one sweeeeet racket.

Taxing the rich is just a terrible, terrible idea in the midst of a great depression.

What's not to love?


we old crows caw caw all we want
the real musical question is ....

when will amerika's
stark naked white bottom
tire of anal sex


first there's the butch left

then the tinker belle left

then tailing all the rest
the liberatory straggle

fluttering and swurling
dead maple leaves

"We believe that human freedom and happiness would be best guaranteed by a society based on principles of self-organization, voluntary association, egalitarianism, and mutual aid"

put the emphasis on mutual

"And thus, we reject all forms of social relations premised on systemic violence and hierarchy"

examples please !!!!!:

"... such as
the state,
white supremacy"

flaubert's note book welcomes you
let me set you down
word for word


"My friends fell in love...
there's something creepy about a person whose heart is so much under his control .."

your friends never had any purchase
on this guy what so ever

and talking of creepy

the undeminished
in fact often intensified stalking
of the indifferent
projection exploiting
love object
is itself "creepy"

butch pwogs make the best donk groupies
and the most....."sick"
and dangerous

tinker belles ultimately
loving only attention
more then themselves
of course
fear a forced confinement
only privately displayed

the victims
of liberatory rape ???

shit baby
they're in it
for the mind fuck


So, what?

At least Obama's hip.

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