Monday, September 18, 2006

I'm a little teapot, short and stout!

I feel like venting. Sorry. Well, not really; I am not sorry in the least.

I am so sick of Arab big mouths. Libya – do not cross this line. Saddam – the mother of all battles. General – how dare you desecrate Mohammed, PBUH, with political cartoons! General, again – the Pope! Jihad!

Hey, people, shut up! You open your mouths and sound like complete idiots. If you had real talent, then it wouldn’t be this one-up crap you pull. You would have a sustained warfare. Is Iran too cheap to fund a war in the open? You clowns hide in caves, you lie to end hostilities, and you use dribbling idiots as human bombs. You ever see Richard Reid the Shoe Bomb Guy? Is that your trained elite? He couldn’t even think well enough to go into the bathroom to light up. You are fools. Little bugs with oil money.

It’s almost funny that American liberals have stopped so much domestic exploration that we need your oil. Then those same whiny liberals complain about the hit on our civil liberties. They fail to acknowledge that the oil money your idiots got is used to fund high-tech ways of plotting attacks – so we need to infringe on everyone’s rights to get at you. Kinda ironic.

A picture ran yesterday on drudge. This Arab had his face all agape over the Pope’s remarks. He was supposed to look angry. I think he looked like a mental patient. I just saw another pic of a bunch of Arabs with their fists in the air. Looked like Spring Break and a bunch of drunken teenagers. This is supposed to be scary? An Arab op-ed said that the Pope’s remarks could lead to war. On, my! War! On, no! Please! Stop! Don’t make us kill you! Please!

Let’s see if I can make up a proverb. He who threatens much but can do little will soon wash into the sea. Another. He who threatens war but is a pussy is soon lapping milk in the corner on a leash.

You people are just pathetic. You are a bunch of pussys with money and no brains. Period. End of story. Next.

I feel a little better for having written that. Actually, better for having finished writing it. Dwelling with those scumbags, even if just in prose, makes me feel dirty.

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