totallyblase wrote, and slapped his furrowed forehead a nano-second after sending: " . . . why wasn't this bloated POS thrown into the goal with his cigar-sucking butt buddies . . . "

Did I really say the GOAL? I meant, off course (I am usually off course, and sometimes a wee bit coarse, er rough-hewn), the GAOL. The nick. The crowbar hotel. The hoosegow. The place where they put such guys. Not cigar smokers, because sometimes, like Mr. Freud used to say, a cigar is just a cigar (but as Mr. Carlin replied, in the maw of a POS like Mr. Limbaugh, it really is a big brown. . . . speaking of Dick Cheney . . . )

I don't give a rough rodeo for Mr. Limbaugh's politics. He's free to blow anybody he wants. And I don't care that he's a hate-monger. There are plenty of folks out there just as hateful, if a little less able to express themselves orally. But what I despise is a paedophile. And why this hasn't been exposed is, in my opinion, a crying shame.

cocktailhag: "Expatriation, and its discontents

Iokannan.... Washington to Canada sounds like an awfully long car trip with you know who. I'd suggest hiring a Town Car. I'll split it with you."

Umm, it was shooter242 you're talking about? I doubt he'd leave the house without strapping on some shootin' iron (hence 'pussies with pistols'), and I know for a fact the Canucks wouldn't let him in with said appendage. Plus, I don't think they'd let him anyway.

And speaking of pussies . . . Rush Limbaugh on "creepiness"??

"There's something "creepy" about the guy (ie. P.E. Obama)."

This from a limp-dick paedophile?? Sheesh, why wasn't this bloated POS thrown into the goal with his cigar-sucking butt buddies after their little escapade to Central America trolling for kids -- he of the little blue pill?? The last time he saw some pre-pubescent little black girls he was probably trying to purchase them off their Dominican pimp . . .

- - Rush Limbaugh, 11/11/2008

Everybody was Fung Shui Fighting points out the obvious, which is why he is hanging around, trying not to sound too upset: "95% of the comments here are nonsense."

"Which is why I don't care that whatever I write, whatever, is deleted", he adds bravely with a thrust out, but slightly quivering lower lip. Really, he doesn't care. At all.

But all the same, "It is kind of odd though that the Gweat and Tewwible Gwenn" (totallyblase interjects here -- what's with the Tweetybird / Elmer Fudd talk whenever a 'mature dissenter' is trying to make a point with his adolescent detractors???) "deletes anything I write and and a few posts down someone else dares call him a hypocrite and is let stand", he adds with a pout.

"Oh well, I can hardly wait for his chorus of ass monkeys to fly in and scold/insult me. You know, because it's late and I'm sure I'll lose sleep over the insults of a bunch of anonymous retards who worship a blogger like he's the second coming", because Everybody was Fung Shui Fighting really doesn't give a flying Fernando, and he's left the building . . .

Oh, ho. Perhaps we spoke too soon. Maybe Everybody was Fung Shui Fighting isn't really leaving in a huff. Maybe he's going to make extra special sure that we get the idea that genius is pain and is generally not recognized by the morons that hang around here.

"The difference between rabid slavish mindless agreement and permissible 'dissent' is the difference between 'fully reclined' and 'fully upright' in coach seats. Don't kid yourselves, GG readers are mindless automatons. Lead by the Giant Robot from Brazil." Nyah, nyah, nyah . . .

Maybe it has something to do with Rolly Joe that brought on this wretched spate of roiling lower bowels and activated enzymes . . .

Good lawd, but this thread has about run its course / coarse, I'd say . . .

http://www.beanogas.com/

Heads 'em off at the (p)ass, so to say.

cocktailhag lays out an offer that would have ordinary men swooning: "Totally Blase... I promise you that if I invite you up for happy hour, no cashews will be served."

You'll note that small, but incredibly complex word 'IF'. As in, "If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride". Then she continues to dangle the carrot: "I prefer macadamias, and the occasional cocktail weinie."

Macadamias!! My life has pretty well been a nutbowl full of mixed nuts, so to speak, but somewhere along the way, somebody picked out all the macadamias. And cocktail weinies, known in circles as Vienna Sausages -- plump little bite-sized morsels fresh from the can!!

But then cocktailhag puts the boot in, and has me wondering about her patriotism: "For such a special occasion, I'll even put a turban on over the curlers."

Turban? TURBAN?? Yegads, I knew there was a catch. Probably a bloody great scimitar as well!! I haven't reached my age by consorting with any turban-wearing dervishes, and I'm not about to start now. Cha-cha-cha.

The Big Bopper rattles the cage: "totallyblase. happy Monday. rowdy, and no go to jail. I visualized you with "nasty" Cocktailhag, wearing her hair curlers, extending happy hour into the wee morning hours? My delusion?"

Don't you need hair to put curlers in?? At least my teeth are still mine, all mine. And why do they call it *Happy Hour* -- some of the saddest old sots I've ever seen in my life were hunched, mumbling into the ozone over half-price drinks and their bowls of cashews. *Happy Hour* indeed.

The only remarkable thing about Long-Winded Minderbinder's reaapearance is that I never actually knew that he was gone until he reappeared again. Nasty piece of work, that.

L.W.M. scathes: You let me know when the editorializing of some hack at the WSJ becomes "factual," okay, sweetie? Thanxbai . . . "

Sigh. So many sawn-off little SOBs. So little time . . .