How low can “we” go?
Two teen boys arrested in shooting death of Georgia infant in stroller
Bring on the planet-killing asteroid. It’s long overdue.
Time for some soul-searching in the non-white community?
As many of you know, my job provides countless hours of solitude, simply because I go where most don’t want to go, and I apply products that most people have irrational fears about. So be it.
So, being alone for long stretches of the average day, I have, over the years, gotten myself addicted to local talk radio. That is, where once I hung on every WILK-uttered word on a daily basis for years on end, of late, “102.3 The Mountain” now occupies my ears and mind more and more.
The reason?
The constant barrage of insults.
Sorry, but it’s elitist snobbery to have a talk show host berate me for being a fan of NASCAR or any major league sporting conglomeration.
I work all week. I work much longer and much, much harder than any part-time radio host. And I don’t need to have my ball bearings busted because I seek a bit of an escape on a typical weekend.
What do they do on the weekends? Watch C-Span and read proposed Congressional bills? Not on your life!
And this “food police” thing is going way, way overboard. Here’s the scoop…
If I salt my soda pop while I’m smoking a Newport, that is none of your fu>king business! Land of the free, anyone? Supposedly, I’m free to salt and consume and smoke all I like.
Ah, but the Democrats and their chromosome-addled minions have made opposite camps wherein the victims and their would-be, easily-led and totally clueless cheerleaders attempt to make sophistry of and score political points on the backs of the newfound villains.
Yeah, villains. Those who drink soda, use table salt and…cover your ears, Bessie!…those who partake of tobacco.
Now, for the mentally-effeminate, let’s cover the recent jibber jabber that somehow passes as talk radio. Ready?
Nothing I do raises the cost of your health care. Absolutely nothing.
No matter what excesses I currently enjoy, not a one of them is costing you a plug nickel. With that said, you can now call a proctologist and have that microscopic trinket of a shrinking brain of yours plucked from your sphincter. In some more cerebral quarters, they’re called dingle berries. Turns out, your apogee falls woefully short of the hoped-for perigee.
The fact is, until the next executive fiat makes it illegal and punishable by death panels to have an independent, clear-headed thought, it’s really none of your fu>king business what I eat, drink, smoke or do when the shades are drawn.
And anybody who says otherwise is a drooling, sniveling, self-important caricature of a free-minded person.
I say, eat, drink and be merry. Chill out. Enjoy.
You only get one go-around.
And if some heavy-handed Democrat has a problem with any of that, then tell them and theirs to SUCK OFF!!!
Yep, sez me.
Oh, and enjoy your wheat germ loaf.
G’nite
Two teen boys arrested in shooting death of Georgia infant in stroller
Bring on the planet-killing asteroid. It’s long overdue.
Time for some soul-searching in the non-white community?
As many of you know, my job provides countless hours of solitude, simply because I go where most don’t want to go, and I apply products that most people have irrational fears about. So be it.
So, being alone for long stretches of the average day, I have, over the years, gotten myself addicted to local talk radio. That is, where once I hung on every WILK-uttered word on a daily basis for years on end, of late, “102.3 The Mountain” now occupies my ears and mind more and more.
The reason?
The constant barrage of insults.
Sorry, but it’s elitist snobbery to have a talk show host berate me for being a fan of NASCAR or any major league sporting conglomeration.
I work all week. I work much longer and much, much harder than any part-time radio host. And I don’t need to have my ball bearings busted because I seek a bit of an escape on a typical weekend.
What do they do on the weekends? Watch C-Span and read proposed Congressional bills? Not on your life!
And this “food police” thing is going way, way overboard. Here’s the scoop…
If I salt my soda pop while I’m smoking a Newport, that is none of your fu>king business! Land of the free, anyone? Supposedly, I’m free to salt and consume and smoke all I like.
Ah, but the Democrats and their chromosome-addled minions have made opposite camps wherein the victims and their would-be, easily-led and totally clueless cheerleaders attempt to make sophistry of and score political points on the backs of the newfound villains.
Yeah, villains. Those who drink soda, use table salt and…cover your ears, Bessie!…those who partake of tobacco.
Now, for the mentally-effeminate, let’s cover the recent jibber jabber that somehow passes as talk radio. Ready?
Nothing I do raises the cost of your health care. Absolutely nothing.
No matter what excesses I currently enjoy, not a one of them is costing you a plug nickel. With that said, you can now call a proctologist and have that microscopic trinket of a shrinking brain of yours plucked from your sphincter. In some more cerebral quarters, they’re called dingle berries. Turns out, your apogee falls woefully short of the hoped-for perigee.
The fact is, until the next executive fiat makes it illegal and punishable by death panels to have an independent, clear-headed thought, it’s really none of your fu>king business what I eat, drink, smoke or do when the shades are drawn.
And anybody who says otherwise is a drooling, sniveling, self-important caricature of a free-minded person.
I say, eat, drink and be merry. Chill out. Enjoy.
You only get one go-around.
And if some heavy-handed Democrat has a problem with any of that, then tell them and theirs to SUCK OFF!!!
Yep, sez me.
Oh, and enjoy your wheat germ loaf.
G’nite
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