Out of the clear blue, these Red- State knob-shines have
become “fiscally responsible” and cannot part with any kind of dime
that might help the nonworking-man become a workingman, while for the
last eight years they had abso-focking-lutely no problem with pissing
away trillions of government money on a bullshit war, so that their
fatfocking-cat campaign contributors could rake in a boatload of dough
what with their no-bid government contracts for who-knows-what.
When it comes to this so-called economic stimulus, all of a sudden these focking Republicans are worried about where these billions of dollars are going to land—seems they got a suspicion that all the dough isn’t going to Dick Cheney’s Halliburton company; that a bunch of it might actually go to some poor people, and they don’t like that one bit, no sir. These economically challenged people-of-color and people-of-no-color tend not to vote for the privileged who can’t recall how many houses they own, so fock ’em.
Anyways, it being the Valentine’s week, I figured my best gift of love to you’s would be to keep my blather brief. Not to mention that as a handson kind of guy, I went a head and ordered my own stimulus package rather than wait to see what the government cooks up for me. And by the sound of the knock at my door, I think she may have arrived. Let the stimulating commence. What the fock, a guy’s got to pump his dollars, repeatedly, back into the economy anyway he can, ain’a?
(Full admission: I’ve taken performance-enhancing drugs. Without their help, an aging player such as myself wouldn’t even get to first base I kid you not, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.)