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The Price Of A Turd…

…is one Starburst Fruit Chew. It’s Official. That’s what I had to give for a conflict-free dump from my baby daughter today, who was very adamant that she didn’t have to go, until the conclusion of negotiations, whereupon she downloaded a butt-load. Why pay more? We only charge the going rate, shop now!

If you have sex with your sister, and your other sister gets jealous, do you have a Conflict of Incest?

I dunno…again, we’ve got a hot war going on right now, and the News-Pukes are showing me pictures of Kobe Bryant, and other worthless flecks of toilet rim spatter.

And the fact that there is even an argument that Jose Padilla should not be hung after a nice, quick military tribunal, pours fresh cement on the already sealed cap over the grave of Our Country As It Was Meant To Be.

Any time I hear the vapid arguments and whinings against John Ashcroft and the Patriot Act, and whimperings about “losing our freedoms”, I know that I am dealing with the kind of person who in the movie goes downstairs into the dark basement to fix the fuse because ‘we live in a rational world, and nothing bad could happen, right?’

“What was that? Hey, Charlie, go check the horses…”

Yeah, Chuck, let me know how that works out for ya.

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