as the bastard was wolfing down his brekky the other day, he was watching the effing chris Matthew's show.
I frikkin hate that guy
that sanctimonious blowhard shill gets my ire up every Sunday, which is why the wife tries to keep caillou on for the babby.
but what she doesn't know is…
I frikkin HATE caillou, that sanctimonious whiny prick.
always with the whining and the self discovery and the fucking overall wearing teacher.
frikkin bald jerk. go mine me some oil sand you asshole.
but the bastard is getting off track here.
on his show on Sunday, his panel of left wing bobble heads are talking about the upcoming Iowa cockus tomorrow
they rock out a sizzle reel of the last 500,000 Iowa cockuses so that I can break my flatscreen with a hammer when the voices tell me that Walter Mondale is in my living room.
I guess the baby isn't going to be able to wash THAT. memory out of her brain.
fucking Walter Mondale.
anyway, with that mess of glass and plasma on my floor, I realize,
A: the bastard bought some fly ass bar stools at ikea
B: we are standing on the precipice of what will be the single filthiest presidential election in American history.
and the bastard isn't so sure he can stand it.
but he does have a Des Moines t-shirt.
Des Moines: hell yeah