Where the hell do I even begin.
Yo.
Shout Out To All My Active And Veteran Brothers and Sisters.
God Bless Ya All. Each and Every One of You.
We Know Who We Are.
We Know What We Do.
Semper Fi.
Do Or Die.
OOORahhh.
Sean Hannity.
Sean.
Sean.
Sean.
Swamp Style.
Hero Today.
Bitch Tomorrow.
Welcome to the status of the later.
Florida Governor Rick Scott.
Buy Ya books.
Send Ya to school.
This is the best guest you can come up with to fill a void on your show?
Nigga Pleeze.
Rick Scott is a Criminal.
This Criminal Ass Hole Brings My Stomach Turn To Such High Levels, I Do Not Even Want To Waist The Finger Energy Hittin These Keyz.
So Here Are Just A Few Links. I Don't Even Get Paid For This Shit.
Guess Your Research Staff Missed All This Seany Boy.
Florida, otherwise known as the Crazy State, has a governor who was elected despite having been at the helm of a company that pleaded guilty to the biggest Medicare fraud in history. Under the settlement, Columbia-HCA agreed to pay $840 million in criminal and civil penalties.
Rick Scott said when he first ran for the governorship that his net worth was $218 million. At the time a blind trust statute apparently written specifically to deal with hiding Scott's ill-gotten gains became law, he stated his end-of-2012 net worth was $84 million.
Florida governor Rick Scott: Still feeding at the public trough
www.dailykos.com/.../-Florida-governor-Rick-Scott-Still-feedi.
Rick Scott said when he first ran for the governorship that his net worth was $218 million. At the time a blind trust statute apparently written specifically to deal with hiding Scott's ill-gotten gains became law, he stated his end-of-2012 net worth was $84 million.
Florida governor Rick Scott: Still feeding at the public trough
www.dailykos.com/.../-Florida-governor-Rick-Scott-Still-feedi.
www.tampabay.com/.../gov-rick-scott-solantic.../1161
14 Felonies Later, Gov Rick Scott Wants Taxpayers to Fund ...www.politicususa.com/2011/03/27/rick-scott-taxpayers-clinics.html
Welcome to the Bought and Sold Seany Boy.
Naples, Racist Florida is waiting with open arms Irish.
Welcome to the Bitch Club.
Bern update.
If Ya All remember.
Bern was my neighbor back in Naples, Florida.
A tall standing, thin, retired Navy Seal. Diagnosed with the largest 'Kidney Stone' the V.A. had ever seen. This statement made by the V.A's own doctors.
My other neighbor, a Navy Aircraft Mechanic called me last summer to tell me that Bern had keeled over and died, from an apparent heart attack.
Somewhat true.
Talking with Navy the other day he gave me the Bern update.
The real skinny as it was.
Bern did keel over and die of a heart attack. The thing is he died on his kitchen floor 8 days prior to his neighbor Kimberly experiencing that God awful smell one never forgets.
Dead Person Down.
Kaddish Seal Brother.
Finally the peace you so much deserved. The eventual peace we all find, finally, after being so long ago forgotten.
SEMPER FI Seal.
Wednesday 2014 21 05
What Dis Date?
"I Know You Don't Give Two 'TRIGZ' about this".
Hmmmm.
Meghan Kelly.
Girl.
You Been In Da Swamp?
What Your Mamma Tell Ya About Dat Swamp.
Yeah.
Dream On Old Man.
Like Meghan Kelly Actually Reads This Old Beat Up 'Devil Dawg's' Insane Diatribe.
I should only be that Honored, as well Humbled.
Shit.
Stranger Has Happened.
Senility.
Ain't It A Bitch?
Bob Beckell.
You Fat Piece Of Slob Hoe.
Fuck Off.
Die Screamin.
Hard.
Real Hard.
I'm not a betting Man.
But I would put money on the hunch that you were one of those Ass Holes that threw eggs and tomatoes on us returning from The Hell Called South East Asia.
Fuck You and Your Hoe Mamma.
Drunken, Hard Smokin Ass Hole.
Jump back off the wagon. The only place where you make any sense.
Better yet.
Bring your disgusting fat, bag of crap self on down here to the South West Side.
We'll trip on down South 6th Avenue, way on the South Side.
I'll hook your recovering Fat Ass up with some Cervesa and Hard.
Hit Dat Dos Equis.
Pull deep on Dat Glass Stem.
Then Me and My Mexican Friends Will Bet If You Can Run Fast Enough From The Pit Bulls Before They Digest Your Rotten Flesh.
Fuck You and Your Hoe Mamma.
You Nothin But A Frag-meat Bitch.
Theorize That Big Boy.
Fox.
Get Rid Of This Ass Hole.
On To Russia.
Yo.
Vladdy.
Thanx For The Read.
You Awight.
Runnin Serious Yak On Our Boy Barry Obama.
Take It All Da Way Home V. Putin.
You Da Man.
Ya All Must Be One Of The Two Readers In Russia Every Day That Reads This Blog.
Yeah Fuckin A Right I'm Humbled and Honored.
For Real.
Straight Up.
Thanx.
Dis A Short One Today.
The Author Wrappin Dis Shit Up.
Walkin Across The Street.
Pickin Me Up A Gallon Of Cheap Whiskey.
Lockin Da Crib Door For The Next 9 Hours and 2 Dayz.
Not Even TBGNS Allowed.
Dis Is Mine Alone.
Oh Yeah.
One Last Thing.
America.
Feel Like Fallin In Love.
Great.
Kiss My Skinny Ass and Call It A Romance.
Cause In A Lickety.
Dis Author Is Ex-Patriated Down South.
Way Da Fuck Down South Of The Border.
For Da Rest Of My Skinny Ass Life.
On Da Beautiful Coast.
Ryan's New Home.
Ryan. Out.
I Hope Ya All Enjoy This Article As Much As I Did.
See Ya All On Da Flip Side
Welcome to the Bought and Sold Seany Boy.
Naples, Racist Florida is waiting with open arms Irish.
Welcome to the Bitch Club.
Bern update.
If Ya All remember.
Bern was my neighbor back in Naples, Florida.
A tall standing, thin, retired Navy Seal. Diagnosed with the largest 'Kidney Stone' the V.A. had ever seen. This statement made by the V.A's own doctors.
My other neighbor, a Navy Aircraft Mechanic called me last summer to tell me that Bern had keeled over and died, from an apparent heart attack.
Somewhat true.
Talking with Navy the other day he gave me the Bern update.
The real skinny as it was.
Bern did keel over and die of a heart attack. The thing is he died on his kitchen floor 8 days prior to his neighbor Kimberly experiencing that God awful smell one never forgets.
Dead Person Down.
Kaddish Seal Brother.
Finally the peace you so much deserved. The eventual peace we all find, finally, after being so long ago forgotten.
SEMPER FI Seal.
Wednesday 2014 21 05
What Dis Date?
"I Know You Don't Give Two 'TRIGZ' about this".
Hmmmm.
Meghan Kelly.
Girl.
You Been In Da Swamp?
What Your Mamma Tell Ya About Dat Swamp.
Yeah.
Dream On Old Man.
Like Meghan Kelly Actually Reads This Old Beat Up 'Devil Dawg's' Insane Diatribe.
I should only be that Honored, as well Humbled.
Shit.
Stranger Has Happened.
Senility.
Ain't It A Bitch?
Bob Beckell.
You Fat Piece Of Slob Hoe.
Fuck Off.
Die Screamin.
Hard.
Real Hard.
I'm not a betting Man.
But I would put money on the hunch that you were one of those Ass Holes that threw eggs and tomatoes on us returning from The Hell Called South East Asia.
Fuck You and Your Hoe Mamma.
Drunken, Hard Smokin Ass Hole.
Jump back off the wagon. The only place where you make any sense.
Better yet.
Bring your disgusting fat, bag of crap self on down here to the South West Side.
We'll trip on down South 6th Avenue, way on the South Side.
I'll hook your recovering Fat Ass up with some Cervesa and Hard.
Hit Dat Dos Equis.
Pull deep on Dat Glass Stem.
Then Me and My Mexican Friends Will Bet If You Can Run Fast Enough From The Pit Bulls Before They Digest Your Rotten Flesh.
Fuck You and Your Hoe Mamma.
You Nothin But A Frag-meat Bitch.
Theorize That Big Boy.
Fox.
Get Rid Of This Ass Hole.
On To Russia.
Yo.
Vladdy.
Thanx For The Read.
You Awight.
Runnin Serious Yak On Our Boy Barry Obama.
Take It All Da Way Home V. Putin.
You Da Man.
Ya All Must Be One Of The Two Readers In Russia Every Day That Reads This Blog.
Yeah Fuckin A Right I'm Humbled and Honored.
For Real.
Straight Up.
Thanx.
Dis A Short One Today.
The Author Wrappin Dis Shit Up.
Walkin Across The Street.
Pickin Me Up A Gallon Of Cheap Whiskey.
Lockin Da Crib Door For The Next 9 Hours and 2 Dayz.
Not Even TBGNS Allowed.
Dis Is Mine Alone.
Oh Yeah.
One Last Thing.
America.
Feel Like Fallin In Love.
Great.
Kiss My Skinny Ass and Call It A Romance.
Cause In A Lickety.
Dis Author Is Ex-Patriated Down South.
Way Da Fuck Down South Of The Border.
For Da Rest Of My Skinny Ass Life.
On Da Beautiful Coast.
Ryan's New Home.
Nos
vemos Candy Ass América. Este autor es Sur. Hacia la hermosa costa
mexicana. Pesca y colgantes con todos la Bella Girlz. AMF Adios
desmoronarlo
Ryan. Out.
I Hope Ya All Enjoy This Article As Much As I Did.
See Ya All On Da Flip Side
By Leon Wieseltier Photo: Kevin Winter/Getty Images
The love and
the loyalty that I feel toward the United States is not only an
expression of conviction. It is also an expression of gratitude. This
country took in my parents when they were broken people looking for a
beginning after an ending. They were two of the saving remnants of
Polish Jewry, living traces of an erased world. They were seeking, well,
life after death, and here they found it. But in the haven of refugees
in which I was raised the feeling about America was more complicated.
America had helped Jews after the war, but America had not helped Jews
during the war. There had been no significant exertions of rescue. The
reverence of the American Jewish community for Roosevelt (a friend once
told me of his father, a retired garment worker, standing at Roosevelt’s
grave at Hyde Park and saying kaddish for him) was not shared by the
recent arrivals. The survivors were interventionists. It was a corollary
of their experience in hell.
In the formation of my
views about morality and power, and of my sense of an obligation to
imagine the desperation of doomed people, this became a kind of primal
scene. In 1944, for example, it was proposed to various officials of the
American government that the Allies bomb the rail lines that carried
the Jews of Hungary to the extermination camps in Poland, and that they
bomb the gas chambers at Auschwitz. In May, Michael Dov Ber Weissmandel,
a Slovakian rabbi, pleaded: “How guilty will you feel in your hearts if
you fail to move heaven and earth to help us in the only ways that are
available to our own people and as quickly as possible? ... For God’s
sake, do something now and quickly.” In July, John J. McCloy, the
assistant secretary of war, dismissed the proposal as “impracticable”
and wrote that “the War Department fully appreciates the humanitarian
motives which prompted the suggested operation but . . . the operation
suggested does not appear justified.” The mention of McCloy always fills
me with repulsion: he became my supreme cautionary example of the
collapse of human responsibility in foreign policy. Thirty years ago I
invited Lucy Dawidowicz to review in these pages The Abandonment of the Jews: America and The Holocaust, 1941–1945
by David Wyman. She submitted a defense of American inaction about
Europe’s Jews against Wyman’s withering indictment of it, noting that
America had after all won the war, which in her view was all it had to
do, and (in a bout of misplaced neoconservatism) accused Wyman of
anti-Americanism. I refused to publish the piece. Candidly if a little
grandiloquently, I told her (I never had occasion to say this to a
writer before or since) that my conscience would not allow it. We never
spoke again.
The question of the relevance of the
Holocaust to humanitarian intervention is somewhat fraught. There are
those who are offended by any analogy between the genocide of the Jews
and other instances of systematic exterminatory evil; and there are
others for whom such an analogy, always imprecise, is one of the central
lessons of modern history. Whereas “none of the tragedies that we see
today may rise to the full horror of the Holocaust, they demand our
attention, that we not turn away, that we choose empathy over
indifference, and that our empathy leads to action”: President Obama
spoke those words in Los Angeles recently. I would admire them coming
from anybody. Coming from him, they sicken me. Syria, man, Syria! About
his concluding reference to action, the president hastily added in
exculpation of himself, “And that’s not always easy,” as if anybody
thinks that it’s always easy. Obama’s statement reminded me of “the War
Department fully appreciates the humanitarian motives which prompted the
suggested operation but ...” It displayed the same sensitive
insensitivity.
The president was in Los Angeles to
accept an award from the Shoah Foundation. “In the face of acts of
inhumanity, President Obama has not stood by,” Steven Spielberg
foolishly declared when he presented the award. In the president’s
remarks, you can track his decline from moral largeness into historical
smallness: “Every day when I wake up, and I think about the young girls
in Nigeria or children caught up in the conflict in Syria—when there are times in which I want to reach out and save those kids—and
having to think through what levers, what power do we have at any given
moment, I think drop by drop by drop, that we can erode and wear down
these forces that are so destructive.” He begins exquisitely and ends
pusillanimously. He wants big emotions but not big actions. And what do
people do who wish to emote but not to act? They tell stories. Instead
of using American power, whose magnitude the president is anyway unclear
about “at any given moment,” he mawkishly proposed to assist Assad’s
millions of victims “by keeping memories alive, by telling stories, by
hearing these stories,” and in this way “we can do our part.” This
credible threat of a barrage of American narrativity will no doubt bring
Assad to his knees.
“Drop by drop by drop” now joins
“you hit singles, you hit doubles” and “we just try to get our paragraph
right” as the epitaphs for Obama’s retreating presidency. Unfortunately
the policy of eroding and wearing down, of calibration and modulation
and prevarication, is not working. According to the foreign minister of
France and Human Rights Watch, Assad is using chemical weapons again,
even as he takes back Homs and prepares to win an election in a few
weeks. The administration has made it clear that it will not grant the
request of Ahmad Al Jarba, the president of the Syrian Opposition
Coalition, for effective weapons, though Jay Carney assured The Washington Post
that Al Jarba’s meeting with Susan Rice, “with a possible drop-in by
President Obama, is ‘part of our commitment to empower’ the opposition
coalition.” The bystander has become an in-dropper. This hypocrisy is
unbearable. Obama cannot act like John McCloy and talk like Raphael
Lemkin. Retrenchment is retrenchment, and it should not be ornamented
with soaring references to the Holocaust. Obama’s moist pronouncements
do not disguise the stony raison d’état of his approach to
atrocity. If, in the matter of responding to evil, the president is not
prepared to “do something now and quickly,” as the rabbi once begged,
then he should stifle himself. His words are insults.
