Monday, June 28, 2004

I can't help myself!

It's just too much fun to link to bitchslaps of the Fat Fuck From Flint.

Cap'n Jim has photos of the extended Moore family. Heh.

And the Twisted Spinster (I love that name!) has one of the ultimate bitchslaps of that oxygen thief.

MICHAEL MOORE CAN EAT MY USED MAXIPADS. How – the – fuck – can he even have the audacity to claim that the president’s “reaction time” was any fucking thing at all – how the fucking fuck does he know what was going on in Bush’s mind? How the fuck – okay, you sack of rotting horsemeat, what would you have done that day? No doubt you would have jumped up and started babbling – to a roomful of kindergarten children, because that is the kind of grandstanding, it’s-all-about-me-and-how-I-look kind of useless creep you are – about how we were under attack and in horrible danger and we might all die and you had to leave right now and then you would have had all your beefy secret service agents lock down the school of hysterical, sobbing children and frightened, confused teachers for the entire day while you were carried off to your hideaway, because that is the sort of me-me-me, who-gives-a-shit-about-others-around-me sort of GODAWFUL WASTE OF HUMAN FLESH, ENOUGH TO FEED ALL OF ZIMBABWE WITH LEFTOVERS FOR ETHIOPIA that you are.

I'm feeling it.

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