Fine Endangered Macassar Ebony Waterboard Reserved for RUSH LIMBAUGH



Let’s hold Rush Limbaugh‘s fat ass off his oceanfront mansion balcony until he effin gets it. What a putz! Drug addled idiot who by his own standards should be in jail. That he has listeners- dwindling, I am sure- at all is a miracle. It’s as though some creature from the Spanish Inquisition has reincarnated in the obese husk of a pasty white throwback Golum-like bile filled monster.

No doubt Limbaugh’s fat ass would be on a velvet pillow dropping a gavel on great thinkers (Read: liberals) in the  age of the Catholic Church Vendetta against Freedom. Or better yet, the bloated “Vizier” whispering conspiratorially into the King’s left ear…Gawd, it’s one thing to be on the opposing side of history. It’s quite another to be so completely out of step with modern thinking that a total one sided view of every macro basis of modern life is under question by a quack pundit hack who spews bile at every turn. To want OBAMA to fail? He is a horse’s ass. Phil Hendrie may have a legit claim that certain liberals did want Bush to fail in Iraq- although I think, like me, they didn’t want failure, the price of blood and treasure being so unimaginable…just closure and move on. We certainly didn’t want failure in Afghanistan, another war we didn’t need, one that diplomacy might well have been able to stabilize. We’ll never know.
It’s troubling that Limbaugh now claims Obama is going to kill talk radio. What? A voice of dissent is one thing, but a hate-filled–and possibly racist, if we dig deep–jerk with a moronic following should be happy he has any platform whatsoever. I would love, personally, to march lockstep with jackbooted comrades and Republican Guard mercenaries onto his acreage and abduct him, waterboard his bloated excess and watch him squirm like a minnow-er, sperm whale- as his precious rights are shed by the very dicta he chooses to live by. But that’s just me. He’s lucky I am a liberal. This bloviated Fat Bastard needs to look deeply into the mirror, reassess his life, and move in to the light, away from the dank stank of his corpulent mind. It’s not too late.
Even he can call Richard Simmons, Ram Dass and a few other clairvoyants and get his fetid shit together. Okay, I spoke my piece. Please forward this to him, and ask him to call me anytime to discuss. Cell direct 323.252.8907
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