Fuck the World, Here We Come--Freedom on the March

Keep Bringin' 'Em On
By God, I've seen the light. Gawd, de Lard, talked to me last night through our "president"--and like the crazed Apostle Paul (St. Paul to you F-ing atheists, you dumbasses who trust the Devil's science and see the powerful story of Our Lard and Tax-Free Savings Account Savior as a fable, same as Tar Baby and those Uncle Remus stories--which, dammit, I say are real, dammit; those stories are from Gawd, too, damn right--see how tough I'm talkin', podner?) on the Road to Damascus. Dammit, we gotta take our message, our message of "Don't Mess With Texas...er, ah, I mean, Don't Mess With the USA, USA, USA" to the heathen of the world...whoooo boy, I got a big thrill going through me when I think of our patriotic duty to crush all opposition, dammit--don't leave one god-damn towelhead alive! Noose the Mooslims! By Gawd, I got the jumpin' jive spirit, and I'm Holy Rolling in kill, kill, kill, blood, das blut.

I mean, folks, by seeing the light, I, too, now see how destroying Iraq is a great idea, a genius idea, formulated at excessive lengths of drinking tons'a Jack Daniels and some relaxin' poker games down at El Rancho Loco in Crawdaddy-ford, Texas--oh, folks, the mere mention of that great state's name makes me shiver with patriotic shivers. I mean I'm listening now to a bunch of damn peaceniks. And, yes, they make me sick with their talk of peace and bring our troops home. Yep, folks, they're back, old hippies and their bullshit spiels of peace, love, and tie-dye. Yeah, sure. Why did we "lose" [I don't think we really lost--look at 'Nam now, it's almost a Capitalist country!] in Viet Nam...why, hell, folks, I can't even talk "loser" talk now I'm so pumped on this "Freedom on the March" idea, Our Great Chancellor's idea, Little Georgie, Mamma Bush's pride and joy, W. Bush came up with this idea of "stay the F-ing course," baby, and don't give in to these girly-men-loving sissies, these cowards.... And you know, let me address our Great Chancellor's war record right here and now--it took guts, folks, to buck the system--OK, yes, his father was a big-shot politician under the Great and Wonderful, Almighty, Richard "I Am Not a Crook" Nixon--oh, wait a minute, my Guide to Right Wing Thinking tells me to never bring up Richard Nixon's name around freedom-fighting Neo-Cons; it would be OK to mention Leon Trotsky but not Nixon, so I'll substitute like let's see, Gerald Ford, aha! a saint that Gerald Ford--OK, now there's a real American president who did no wrong...I have to stop and say a quick AMEN! BROTHER! and Praise the Lard! Or let's see, I can bring up Ronnie Raygun, oh hell yeah, what a truly Great Communicator who so clearly explained to us how we will one day be able to get to Tokyo from Washington, District of Corruption, in about 3 and one half hours. Praise de Lard! Amen. Amen. And, of course, I can mention the Wonderfully Excellent War Winning Son of a Bitch George Herbert W. Bush, Bush I, our old Holy Pappy...er-ah, whoa, hold on here, it says here in the Guide we're not supposed to bring up Pappy's name either. Oops. I'm sorry, folks, anyway, back to our Great Chancellor's war record--you catch my drift, right: it took real man guts to buck the system and stand up to the Texas Air National Guard--sure it took a little coke to get that nerve a little more steady, but dammit, George W. Bush stood up to the US Army and said, "Dammit, I've got a mission right here in this country. I trust these peasants boys, these low-life white boys, all the god-damn Messkins we can stick in the army, and of course the coloreds, our precious southern colored boys, yes, folks, I trust those guys to get that Viet Nam effort done. In the meantime, hell, I may seem like I'm down on the Border F-ing god-damn Messkin mammas, but what I'm doin' down there in them Messkin whorehouses is planning out my political strategy, 'cause even back then, folks, my old mammy, Babs, would press me to her bosoms and she'd tell me, 'Sonny boy, I'm depending on you to defend your old mammy against that old fool your old Pappy--he's a good man, but he's too liberal for me; he's a wimp, sonny boy, and I want you to buck that wimp tag if they try and hang it on you. So, I'm depending on you, sonny boy, to keep the female side of this family alive and meanly planning to one day conquer the world, the whole damn world, sonny, and I deem it up to you, my cute little Georgie Porgie--oh, honey, why you got the sniffles so bad--have you been snorting that white powder your Pappy brought back from his last trip down to Mexico?' Yes, folks, my old mammy gave me this design, this Christian will, if you so speak. It's kind'a like an old saying you have here in Tennessee, er-ah, well, at least we have it down in Texas, I think, or, but, if you can't take the shit, er-ah, no, that's not it, maybe if at first you succeed then succeed and succeed again, well, anyway, I know what I gotta do and er-ah, I've lost my train of...hand me that bottle overthere, Pickles." Right on, Mr. President. Oops, what? "Right on" is a hippy/druggy phrase! Really. "Right on" associated with drug taking. That's right. Gawd, I forgot. Plus, "Right on's" an uppity Black Power term, too, and I gotta give up thinkin' like that. I'm sorry, my Neo-Con Gawd and Leader! Siegheil! [It's not italicized because I think it's an American word now.]

Have you ever tried goose-stepping? Hey, come on, it's fun. Plus it makes you feel superior. Like a true Aryan! Hot damn, Praise de Lard we gotta a "president" who's not a WIMP. He's a tough motherF-er and he's gonna kick some A-RABB ass. He's gonna send tons of those towelheads right straight to the Devil's Hell, where they belong. He's gonna cause a bigger holocaust than that German wimp, Adolph What's His Name...Schickelgruber, I think it was, could have ever dreamed up. This time it's A-RABBs and Mooslims and let's throw some illegal Messkins into this holocaust's ovens, too. Oh hot damn. Glory. Can you smell the delicious odor of that burning A-RABB flesh?--or that Mooslim flesh being burned, smoking, baby, as we bomb, shoot, blow 'em sky high! Blow Baghdad back to the Stone Age! AMEN, BROTHERS and SISTERS. See the light, folks, just like old Saint Paulie Boy and Me. Praise de Lard and pass the god-damn 500-lb bombs and let's kick some Al Queda ass. Big Daddy Georgie Porgie, the military genius, the man who talks to Gawd through a whiskey bottle and a short snort of coke! The guts to buck the US Army and certainly the guts to stand up to the wimpy, hippy, atheist Democrats, like that bitch, Nancy Pelosi. "What a bitch," the "president" was overheard saying; adding, "She ain't as rich as my family. F her."

Speaking of old rat-bastard bleeding-heart-liberal Michael Moore, check out what he has to say--such treasonable stuff, I curse him...but here's a link to his unpatriotic site:

http://www.michaelmoore.com/words/message/index.php?id=204

So come on, Americans, pack up your gear and let's volunteer to go to 'Nam...er-ah, I mean, Iraq and kick some towelhead ass and let's kick it good, 'cause, like our Chancellor says, that's the only way we're gonna get the troops home...DEAD, he means!

Praise the Lard and pass me some fresh killed baby elk meat,

thegrowlingwolf
for The Daily Growler