-I don't give a flying fuck about Scooter Libby, who was dumb enough to perjure himself to cover his boss's attempt to have a covert CIA operative killed out of political spite. I note only this: if you dare to compare Libby's perjury about acts of treason with Bill Clinton's untruths about getting blowjobs, you are, quite simply, an asshole who forfeits the right to be taken seriously--in fact, it's really a shame that you probably have the right to vote, because you're not bright enough to exercise it responsibly and the rest of us will have to put serious thought and time into countering the effects of your coinflipping limbic system.
Other than that, Fitzmas just isn't doing much for me, and the notion that fascist jerkoffs are assholes isn't really news anyway.
And just because it's becoming my traditional political signoff: Fuck you, Purple.
-Yes, Mme. Malkin and Mlle. Coulter are bad people. My suggestion is this: if you run into Mlle. Coulter, just cover your asscheeks and walk away quickly, because that bitch has a 10-inch cock and she wants it enveloped in your asspussy. As for Mme. Malkin, I think the best way to handle a personal encounter is to smile benignly and say, not too loudly, "BOO!" If she's lucky, she'll be wearing her Depends. If not? Pure comedy gold for you.
-I am settling in for some basketball. Little else matters: work, sleep, food, child care are all simply things that must be done to enable watching my various Terpses stumble toward whatever fate holds for them over the next few weeks. I am in Turtle Warrior mode.
I've been more in love with the boys, since they beat the University of the Color of the Sky and ran the table for their last seven games, but the mystery and deep-seated fear remain; if they win the ACC tournament, they will die a horrible and early death in the NCAAs. If they are humbled by Miami on Thursday or BC on Friday, it's too early; if they are humbled by Virginia on Sunday, it will be equally devastating, because how can you claim to have a penis if you lose to Virginia three times in one season? No, this is a must-lose-on-Saturday proposition, and the likely opponent that day? The University of the Color of the Sky, of course, which is looking eminently beatable, what with Tyler Hansborough in a tizz about his busted-up face.
The women? Ah, the women. A semifinal loss in the ACC tournament to the brazen harlot pirate hooker thugs from the University of the Color of the Sky, of course. But we saw that movie last year, and that turned out to be a damned good movie with a damned good ending, and for this year? The game that counts remains. Anything less than the Final Four will be a disaster for the girls, although a loss in the Eight will be no horrible surprise; these things tend toward a certain entropy, after all. I will sit and hope for Miss Christie Tolliver's upcoming date with Miss Ivory Latta's kidneys. Those girls just plain don't like each other, hoss.
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