Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Lindsey Graham Is A Dickweed
Senator Huckleberry Closetcase really needs to shut the hell up. He is now spouting a bunch of racist nonsense about Iranians that doesn't begin to pass any sort of sniff test. Here is the nut 'graph:
“The Iranians cheat and they lie. They are a radical regime," he said. "They want a master religion for the world; the Nazis wanted a master race."
Ok, Huckleberry, stop with the vapors and retreat to your fainting couch. His logic is based on the fact that Iranians are liars because he worked in a pool hall and a bar and the Iranians were liars. So the problem is that the Imams who run Iran - who don't tolerate gambling and alcohol - are the same as whoever the hell were these Iranians living in South Carolina when Lindsey Graham was a lad. And Iranians don't want a "master religion." They want Muslims to live under Muslim law. That's pretty much it. Oh, and they are our allies against ISIS, you dipshit.
At this point the pathology of the War Party is so pronounced as to be slightly embarrassing. It's like the revered old vicar who gets plastered on a cup of sherry and then starts talking about the thighs of the ladies in the choir. Everyone gets really nervous and tries to change the subject and hope he falls asleep soon.
That's the way I feel about those who lust so greedily for Muslim blood, that they will go to any lengths to create more dead Muslims. And that this comes on the heels of a Memorial Day when we (hopefully) paused to remember and reflect on the over 4000 dead Americans that were a direct result of this sort of thinking makes it all the more obscene.
We are - thankfully, hopefully - in the middle of a discussion about the decisions of 2002 and 2003 to invade Iraq, thanks to Jeb "JEB!" Bush's stillborn presidential campaign. His inept handling of a basic and unavoidable question questions the idea that he's the "smart one" in that family. But it also has forced the GOP field to answer the question, too, and they have all seemed to come out and say, "No, bad call."
Except Huckleberry... standing before empty rooms, caterwauling for more blood, more dead and more white crosses decked with flowers on languid May afternoons.
Because he worked in a pool hall once.