we’re going to pay tipsters who led us to the sons of hussein thirty million dollars. thirty million dollars. i really don’t have anything to say to that, other than GIVE THE MONEY TO MISSISSIPPI, YOU SONS OF BITCHES!! WE NEED IT WORSE THAN SOME MOTHERFUCKER WHO POINTED YOU DOWN A DIRT ROAD!! why isn’t our administration offering that kind of long green for us?
Archive for July, 2003
let’s get this right out of the way: i hate basketball, and i’m a feminist. so what do i think about kobe bryant? innocent until proven guilty, sucrose. but like any other amateur law dork, i want to know more about it first. let’s check it out:
finishing off my weekend jaunt to the golden triangle has taken me three days, which wasn’t helped by a drunken spree thru remaining jaxxon bars last nite. i was going to bed early . . . had a couple beers, ate a surprisingly good morningstar “chik’n” pot pie (i love woefully misspelled products), when the fone rangs . . . it’s n-x, all upset because (warning!! SHOCK ahead!!) her boyfriend cheated on her. again.
where’s yr shout-outs now, klink-family sucker!
so saturday morn i hop in the jetta and head over to that fabled land of ladies and mystery, columbus, mississippi. well, fabled to some folks, anyway.
i’ve heard stories from old state alum about the dark days as mississippi a & m college (as it was known then), when they banned all females after riot in the library in montgomery hall over who would pull out the chair of the lone female present. and how they knew there were girls . . . just a few miles over, at the mississippi university for women.
yessir, it’s that time of year again—when little girls and boys have sore necks and backs from moving antique chifforobes and upset tummies from drinking budweiser! yes, it’s moving time—when all good pals chip in to claim unwanted lp’s and busted end-tables. and it’s a great time!
the only thing that gives me comfort is that maybe you’re not as dumb as all your critics say you are, and that some spark buried beneath layers of oil and baseball flashes up in the middle of the night—even during your month-long vacations—and that spark, the dull remnant of a thousand lies—makes you just a little bit miserable.
i’ll let gary pettus’ fine article talk about one of my favorite places in jackson for me.
zogby reports new poll data: 47% want the bastard out, compared with 46% who grumblingly say they’d vote for him again. similarly, shrub’s job performance rating is down to almost a pre-9/11 low.
“kick the bastard out!
kick the bastard out!
(to the tune of “who’s smoking the pot?“)