These Fucking People

So the Dead Enders walked out.  Good.  Take their credentials and bid them adieu.  Let them form a drum circle outside the convention.

These maroons have tape across their mouth saying they were silenced by the DNC - minutes after a roll call vote, where their voices were heard.  Look, you simpering narcissists, your guy lost.  There isn't going to be a revolution.  There's going to be an election, and judging from the last few months, you have not one clue how those work.  The person, see, with the most votes wins.

These boutique, dilettante Maoists who are all about revolution until it threatens to burn down their Whole Foods or interrupt their wi-fi service have demonstrated nothing about the electoral process except their ignorance of it.  Please, walk out, and keep walking.

TBogg doesn't blog nearly enough anymore, but his greatest post of all time deserves to be reprinted here in full:

Your Mumia sweatshirt won’t get you into heaven anymore

A comment left over at digg regarding Ralph Nader:

The Democrats really hate Nader because he points out the fact that they are asking those of us on the left to vote for them but they aren’t doing anything for us. Did they end funding for the Republican’s crime spree in Iraq? No. Have they moved for UHC? No. Have they tried to stop corporate crimes? No. Have they tried to reform the tax code to be progressive? No. Have they tried to protect homeowners from predatory lenders? No. Have they defended our constitutional rights? No. Take back the FDA from the corporations? No. The FCC? No.
The Democrats don’t deserve my vote. They aren’t helping the left, why should the left help them?

Let me see if I can explain it this way: 

Every year in Happy Gumdrop Fairy-Tale Land all of the sprites and elves and woodland creatures gather together to pick the Rainbow Sunshine Queen. Everyone is there: the Lollipop Guild, the Star-Twinkle Toddlers, the Sparkly Unicorns, the Cookie Baking Apple-cheeked Grandmothers, the Fluffy Bunny Bund, the Rumbly-Tumbly Pupperoos, the Snowflake Princesses, the Baby Duckies All-In-A-Row, the Laughing Babies, and the Dykes on Bikes. They have a big picnic with cupcakes and gumdrops and pudding pops, stopping only to cast their votes by throwing Magic Wishing Rocks into the Well of Laughter, Comity, and Good Intentions. Afterward they spend the rest of the night dancing and singing and waving glow sticks until dawn when they tumble sleepy-eyed into beds made of the purest and whitest goose down where they dream of angels and clouds of spun sugar. 

You don’t live there. 

Grow the fuck up.