Posted: 2/16/2006 10:00:10 AM EDT
[#11]
I see (and am told that I sometimes write) some single posts that, with a few words of introduction for context would be classics. This is what made me think of it. In this thread my description of the Congressmen backing an AWB renewal drew the concluding suggestion by ARDUNSTAN: originally posted by ARDUNSTAN
originally posted by FLAL1A
Quoted: They are the usual suspects: a reliable nest of communists, traitors, crumb-snatchers, beggars, thieves, and hydraulic lawn-jockeys, spewing self-righteousness and entitlement at the flip of a switch. They are the pixel-sized elements of the target at which Jehovah's almighty J-Dam of vengeance will be directed on judgment day, whe He at last determines to cleanse the Earth. The eyeless, multi-eared exoskeletal vermin gnawing the marrow of the bones of such as Jefferson and Madison, they flee with a gut churning skitter whenever the Constitution is invoked. They are the conscientious remnant, who can be relied upon to speak truth to power - and loudly - so long as the grand jury is out of session and the per diem is guaranteed. They are so many 3 pound blocks of government cheese with carboard wrappers and arms and legs and character which being neither hot nor cold must be spat out. With every breath they draw they argue forcefully for monarchy or oligarchy or anarchy or any archy but the archy that got drunk and shit them out near the levers of power. Their mere living indicts Abraham for having importuned the Almighty in advance of His cleansing of Sodom and Gomorrah. They breathe and thereby beg Jesus to reconsider, to invert time, and to remain in the bosom of the Trinity, aloof from the sufferings of His poor creatures. Individually, they are proof that .22 long rifle cartridges cost too much to waste; collectively, they are a fleshy, self-inking rubber stamp reading "Deposit Only" and visible only on the back of a welfare check. One day they will die. Thank God that even then rats and roaches will hunger, or those Democratic stalwarts' lives would have been entirely devoid of purpose.
Heaven grant that a hundred years hence, in the pre-dawn gloom of some dusty crossroad, a penniless, toothless vagabond without fortune, hope, or prospect may find that an undercooked tamale has forced him to seek untimely relief for the griping of his bowels; that he may thoughtlessly squat over the open end of a trickly culvert and in the groaning release of his tired and crusty bung shit upon their unmarked and disremembered grave.
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You know L1A, you should write an anthology of these brooding, razor-like missives you so effrortlessly create.
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