Digital Cowboy

If you don’t believe me, please explain why there’s a retarded peanut farmer from Georgia on my TV right this very minute pretending to know something about the Bible and the Middle East while simultaneously coddling the enemies of Israel. He had his chance and he failed.

That fucktard is in his eighties. Reagan’s dead. Ford is dead. Nixon is dead.

He won’t shut up. Landslide election defeat isn’t enough for him.

The voters have spoken – loudly, Jimmy. You’re stupid and we hate you. Go the fuck away!

Jimmy is the most retarded president in my life time. He’s most definitely the dumbest person to hold that office – until Barry – in the last hundred years.

Somebody PLEASE stuff a rag in that muppet’s mouth.

Never before – in the 230 year history of this country – has there ever been a slug so completely devoid of anything that demanded recognition as human been allowed to make herself the fool so much on TV.

I saw her on TV yesterday trying to suck Barack’s cock.

Barack wuddn’t even there.

She’s trying to display her whoring skills… begging him to… just… dammit, let her!

That’s whatcha call a dumb whore. (Gotta cut them loose. Dumb broads are a liability. If you think I’m kiddin’, just watch Barack and Nancy over the next 42 months. Barry knows how to pimp. Heard it here first.)

She’s sixteen years too late. (Botox, notwithstanding.)

Barack is, too. Hilly and Billy were “the first black president” and we know that’s true because it was declared by a truly, provable, look-it-up, Aferican-dash-American (Toni somebody) and Hillary-damn-negro-clinton-her-own-damn-self….

I’m working on a list of black men that I’m gonna beg to run in 2012. I’m only gonna beg one. This is harder than it should be because none of them would be stupid enough to run and I respect them FOR that. That’s WHY I respect them all.

Which one should I stalk and beg?

Truly, it makes no difference and it has absolutely nothing to do with race. Barack Obama is the first African president of the united States of America. It’s illegal, it’s unConstitutional. It’s sick reality. It’s crazy history. (No, I checked. It’s been recorded… so far.)

Barack Obama isn’t a nigger because of the color of his skin. He’s a nigger because of the content of his character.

I respect Dr. King. I agree with him. He was truly a great man. The hangers-on? Not so much. (And I include most of his parasitic, lazy family in that. He would be appalled and they should all be ashamed.)

And tomorrow… a man not eligible for American citizenship will likely sign his name to a bill that NOT ONE HUMAN BEING has EVER read. With his signature, it will become law. Sort of. The way they do it now. Everyone votes. On something they’ve never read – and couldn’t possibly. The “President” signs and we have a new law…. that costs YOU… next week, next month. next year… your children, your grandchildren, your great-grandchildren… You gave them “your voice” with your vote, or lack of it.

“They” Just spent AT LEAST $3900 of your money NEXT YEAR.

But.

Who cares. It’s just those silly politicians doing what they do.

He’s pretty and he pretends to think when the lights are on.

Goodnight, America. I once loved you. But, like all dead things, I must let go of you. I’ll remember your greatness and I know you would never want me to cling to your rotting corpse.

So. I guess this must be goodbye.

“I know … what it means to … have every part of you public. And … Now I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I don’t want that anymore. I’ve experienced it and now I understand what it means to give myself to only him.”

Take a wild guess who it is. Make sure you take notice of the lack of capitalization on “him.” I wouldn’t want anyone to misunderstand and be embarrassed by a guess. In fact, let’s take guesses on who “him” is also. Get one and you’re bound to get the other.

I have to add:

“When it comes, when it comes to Catholicism, I really, I believe that… that it’s all relative. Y’know. I think that a lot of people, like, y’know, believe in, in, in, this, to, to make… y’know, to conform, to put fear in people.

But I love having faith and I love the thought of heaven and I love the thought of, of doing what’s right and I love the thought of being forgived (sic) of my sins. I love that. I love the idea of that.”

That might make it a bit easier.

I deleted a comment here today because it was a personal attack on me and it was done anonymously.

In the past I have tolerated both attacks on me and anonymous comments. I’ve been more liberal and tolerant than just about any blogger I know in that respect.

I will no longer tolerate the two combined.

If you would like to make an anonymous comment here, feel free. If you would like to personally attack me, feel free.

But if you have a personal problem with me, don’t hide and snipe. I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m forced to deal with passive-aggressive people far more than I would like already. Many of them are lawyers, their clients and judges.

There’s an email address posted near the top left of the page. (Not that it matters. History tells me that most anonymous snipers already have many other ways to contact me directly.)

If you’ve already communicated the problem to me and I haven’t responded, it’s probably because I don’t have a response for you yet. I’m a man. I tackle problems head-on and address them. Sometimes the queue gets a bit backed up.

It’s nothing personal on my part. Don’t make it personal on yours. I have priorities and evidently you just haven’t made it to the top of the list yet.

Also don’t fall in to the trap of thinking that somehow I’m the solution to your problem. That’s a dangerous place to be. As cool as I am, I’m very clearly not God and if you’re trusting anyone else as your source, you should address that rather than attacking me. I’m not your problem or your solution.

I can probably point you in the right direction, though.

I’m living a dream.

I mean that literally. Like many people, I’ve thrown that phrase around loosely at times. This time I’m not using it as a rhetorical device. It’s not a euphemism, a metaphor, a figure of speech or hyperbole.

I mean it in the sense that the last couple of mornings I’ve awakened with a feeling of trepidation because I’ve actually had this particular dream quite a few times in the past few years only to wake up and face the crushing realization that it was only that – a dream. It always seemed so real. Whenever that happened the day that followed was always rough.

So these last couple mornings, I have laid partially awake for a few minutes until I made sure I was fully awake. Each morning I’ve thought to myself, “Not again! I can’t take this again!”

Then I realize she really is standing there. She really did just walk into the bathroom. This isn’t a dream. It’s the rest of my life. It’s really Her. Here. Really.

It’s my family all under one roof. It really was my whole family at the church picnic Sunday. Together.

It’s really me saying, “Time for bed. Give Mommy goodnight loving.” And then hearing Her say, “Give your Daddy goodnight loving and get in the bed, girls.”

It’s really Her sitting next to me on the couch after the kids are in bed, the two of us laughing at a stupid comedy on DVD like we’re foolish teenagers on a second date.

It’s really Her asking, “What do you want for supper?” and me saying, “Ehhh. You don’t need to cook. Let’s just go out for dinner.” It’s really my whole family having so much fun laughing with each other at Chili’s that I think we’re probably annoying those around us. And not caring.

It’s a miracle and I’m living it. The biggest challenge I face in it is trying not to get caught staring slack-jawed at her all the time. Not only is it wonderfully surreal to have her home, she’s even more beautiful than she was when I met her ten years ago.

My God answers prayer and He does it exceedingly, abundantly above all you can ask or think. He doesn’t just patch up and repair things, either. He restores. That makes all the difference in the world.