Dear Chain of Fools…commonly known as the Crackers elected into office-C.E.O
Give me back my Buddha
Give me back my Freak
Give me back…all that has made me unique!
And, oh, by the way, Big Brother,
take back your dime if you are buying my time.
If it means you will leave me alone and
Man has dispersed the needle
Defying our bodies for the sake of your ego!
Handed down the spoon.
With no one exempt..
Not even…The cracker dress in pressed pinstripe
shutting down the capital at high noon.
Keep your paws off my laws!
Keep your plans for parenthood and your witch hunt draped in factual flaws.
These are not a man’s, white or black, causes.
Time it was we were melting in the pot as one
The women in the harbor with honor shining bright is not your lady
She is someone’s
She is someone’s
She is someone’s
If they plan on appealing Obamacare…what will become of women’s healthcare? For nearly 100 years, Planned Parenthood has promoted a commonsense approach to women’s health and well-being, based on respect for each individual’s right to make informed, independent decisions about health, sex, and family planning. – See more at: https://www.plannedparenthood.org/about-us/who-we-are#sthash.z4M5MgoI.dpuf
F.I.T.N . Republican G.O.P. Summit, stood host to America’s largest gathering of persons with…artistic licenses. Between Mr. Christie exaggerated ‘death’…
The New Jersey governor is down, but not out. He’s putting all his chips on winning the Granite State, and the positive reception he received here showed that it’s probably the best bet he can make with his limited options.
Between all the pomp and ‘I didn’t have anything to do with that bridge…’ circumstances. There had been a bright spot on the whole ‘blow hard blowing bullshit out their ass to constituents’ stage…a large box stamped…Rand Paul.
Along with the box, Paul and a few dings and dents…had been a very simple letter.
Dear 1 Percent,
We found Mr. Paul along side a road, between Mr. Dixon’s farm…that has now gone into foreclosure. And, Grace Baptist Church…where the Johnson’s youngest is buried. He had been diagnosed at nine with leukemia but because Mr. Johnson worked for Mr. Dixon…there had not been enough money to cover some of the more important procedures…testing and diagnostics and what not. Well, no matter, there just ain’t been the right kind of weather due to the climate change that they say ‘we don’t gut’. The weather made them fields of grass into stadiums of dust and than the money to keep them damn sprinklers on went…well, the whole place went down the shitter. One thing turned to another and the Johnson’s son just didn’t get up one day.
No matter, you folks don’t need to hear our sob story. You got bigger fish to fry. Like pipelines going through Shirley’s Boutique. Shirley doesn’t mind giving up the shop but wished that the government asked first.
Oh, here I am going on and on and on.
Anyways, Mr. Paul was in a box on the side of a road. Don’t worry we put holes in it. For breathing and what not. Along with the box came a note. On top of the box were the words…tried to e-mail but they closed my account.
Hope all is well in New Hampshire. Ain’t never been there but I hear the winter’s are a bitch. Plus, I hear there maybe problems getting the old Chevy over sum bridge in New Jersey.
Dear F.I.T.N. N.H. Republican style-
We boxed up Mr. Paul in Kentucky. I had been hesitant to do so because social media has tagged him and asshole. Asshole or not, you people deserve him. So, I put the asshole in a box down in Kentucky and shipped him to New Hampshire.
I should let you know…when you go to pop the Jack Ass out of the box in Nashua, that my dear old grandma once told me a not so tall tale.
She said, “Hillary, you can put an asshole; all pretty and nice and with cowboy boots, in a crate. A box. A shipping trunk. It don’t matter. You can put that asshole in a box, stamp it and send it to Alaska or wherever. Just as soon as that asshole gets to where it’s going. Some poor unsuspecting voting American, will open that box up. And, you know what, Hillary? They get an asshole. It don’t matter if you start out an ass in Kathmandu, you’ll still be an ass in Anchorage!”
Needless to say, here is your asshole. I hope he arrives undamaged and ready for a good, clean, fight…where all issues matter.
I am Brangien [Brangaine] of Weisefort, Ireland, lady-in-waiting to my cousin Isolde, who became promised to King Marc of Cornwall. His nephew Tristan escorted us to England by ship. But Tristan and Isolde fell in love at sea. As ye may know, or will find out, they cite the philter they drank as the cause, over which I was supposed to keep vigil. I would like to share my perspective of how I have created good in the world through my herbs and observations. There is much to tell, including how I have adopted this odd language. In good time. My life is in God’s hands. –Inspired by the modern French translations of the Tristan and Isolde texts