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Che Guevara Captured In Baghdad Raid

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AbecedariusRex wrote: Well, I dunno. Depending on whose bush we're talking about it could make or break your marriage.
Just a random thought there.
(Ooooh. Did I just type that outloud?)

Ah! You know, I had never stopped to consider that the "Bush problem" could be the result of retro- '70s Progressive (lack of) grooming methods.

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<Charachter Off>

HaHaHaHa these people are such fools, this is some funny shite!!! I love the one about the Dad (Retired Air Force pilot).

""There was an incident--he called me in to view a video he'd received in his email. Before I knew what it was, I was watching a smart bomb blow up a group of Iraqis--"bad guys"--while my dad raved about our advances in weaponry. He absolutely had no awareness of my reaction to the video and to his enjoyment of it.

I was down the hall, thinking I would puke, when he hollered "Do you want to see it again?" I knew if I said anything but no we'd have a horrible and fruitless spat, so I just disappeared for a few hours"""

I can picture this fool sitting Indian style in the corner of its room rocking back and forth chewing on its finger nails saying "daddy bad, daddy bad"

<Character on>
This poor child must be given a NEW father immediately!!!

<Character off>
This one I find kinda disturbing, I am going out after work and purchasing another firearm to protect myself from this crazy SOB, I have more than enough already, but one more can't hurt.

meldroc: Bush has also damaged my mental health.

After I actually took the trouble to inform myself about politics a couple years ago, and learned the true extent of the damage Bush has done to this country, I have a constant boiling rage inside me. Absolutely constant. Never ceases, though sometimes I can get it down to a simmer so I can go out in public and hang out with friends without doing something stupid. On top of the anger is a generous dose of fear and anxiety, coming directly from the Bush administration's march to fascism.

Frequently, I'm so intensely angry that I hit things. I just broke my bookshelf today because I hit it. My knuckles have decent callouses on them from hitting things, and various pieces of my property show signs of my rage. Thankfully, I've never turned violent against people since I was in high school, though I was sorely tempted to deviate the septum of a wingnut who called me a traitor and f*ggot to my face at the anti-war march last Saturday.

Of course, it's unhealthy to harbor this much anger, especially if I'm stuffing it down all the time so people around me don't see me acting borderline psychotic. These emotions leak out, turn into other emotions, like depression, which I've fought with since college. I've also developed a venomous hatred of Bush and his cronies and the 23-percenters that support him. Hatred's never a good emotion to hold, but there it is. I literally hate those motherf*ckers who are destroying our country.

By all rights, I should be getting help, but I'm not going to. I was soured on the psychiatry business by my experience with anti-depressants - I ended up nearly emotionless, apathetic, and lost my motivation and creative drive, and as a result, I was unemployed for three years and had to move back in with my parents. I was your classic anti-depressant zombie. They didn't like the changes to my personality either, and stopped paying for the meds. After I tapered off the anti-depressants, I got my drive back, I was able to find work as a software engineer again, move into my own apartment, and now I'm supporting myself again. On top of that, if I told a counselor about my feelings, or that I'm so afraid of my government that I literally spent several hundred dollars on a shotgun, a deadly weapon, to defend myself against my government, I'm afraid I could get thrown into the psych ward. And I value my freedom enough that I will not allow that to happen under any circumstances. So, no shrinks.

I haven't talked to my best friend and ex-roommate in weeks because of a few personal issues between us, including politics - he's Republican, and though he's no fan of Bush, he constantly mocks and belittles my politics when I talk to him. So I don't."

WTF! This is the last person I want owning a shotgun! Put the Gun down...Sir! Put the Gun Down!! POP!!! Those will be the last words that this guy will hear before to long, Crazy @ss MoFo!!

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Sea-Bass wrote:
meldroc: Bush has also damaged my mental health.

After I actually took the trouble to inform myself about politics a couple years ago, and learned the true extent of the damage Bush has done to this country, I have a constant boiling rage inside me. Absolutely constant. Never ceases, though sometimes I can get it down to a simmer so I can go out in public and hang out with friends without doing something stupid. On top of the anger is a generous dose of fear and anxiety, coming directly from the Bush administration's march to fascism.

Frequently, I'm so intensely angry that I hit things. I just broke my bookshelf today because I hit it. My knuckles have decent callouses on them from hitting things, and various pieces of my property show signs of my rage. Thankfully, I've never turned violent against people since I was in high school, though I was sorely tempted to deviate the septum of a wingnut who called me a traitor and f*ggot to my face at the anti-war march last Saturday.

Of course, it's unhealthy to harbor this much anger, especially if I'm stuffing it down all the time so people around me don't see me acting borderline psychotic. These emotions leak out, turn into other emotions, like depression, which I've fought with since college. I've also developed a venomous hatred of Bush and his cronies and the 23-percenters that support him. Hatred's never a good emotion to hold, but there it is. I literally hate those motherf*ckers who are destroying our country.

By all rights, I should be getting help, but I'm not going to. I was soured on the psychiatry business by my experience with anti-depressants - I ended up nearly emotionless, apathetic, and lost my motivation and creative drive, and as a result, I was unemployed for three years and had to move back in with my parents. I was your classic anti-depressant zombie. They didn't like the changes to my personality either, and stopped paying for the meds. After I tapered off the anti-depressants, I got my drive back, I was able to find work as a software engineer again, move into my own apartment, and now I'm supporting myself again. On top of that, if I told a counselor about my feelings, or that I'm so afraid of my government that I literally spent several hundred dollars on a shotgun, a deadly weapon, to defend myself against my government, I'm afraid I could get thrown into the psych ward. And I value my freedom enough that I will not allow that to happen under any circumstances. So, no shrinks.

I haven't talked to my best friend and ex-roommate in weeks because of a few personal issues between us, including politics - he's Republican, and though he's no fan of Bush, he constantly mocks and belittles my politics when I talk to him. So I don't."

WTF! This is the last person I want owning a shotgun! Put the Gun down...Sir! Put the Gun Down!! POP!!! Those will be the last words that this guy will hear before to long, Crazy @ss MoFo!!

Bwahahahahahaha. Oh, I laughed so hard I choked. Here is another version:

Baldric: So the Bushitler has damaged me squibbies.

After me and me droogs tooksie troubleslike to inform us on politicos after the last deluge, I popsied me eyes on the true extentlike of damage Bushitler we mun copsied. Bushitler has done rapsied the bun tree, and I n I have a constant boiling backstage inside me cranium. Absolutely constantweez. Cessa nought, sed sometimes down to a wee simmer me burnsied so's mee and Dim can go out in public and hang out with the droogs and mash the winos with the ol' jackbootie afore enjoying the raging in and out. But then there's the fear and anxiety, and mun wee hurt in me eyeballies from whence cometh the pickensie voices telling to me "hurt them! crush them! squeeze their squibbie little headses like a zitlike! And all fomenting directly from the Bushhitlers fascistististic trompideetromp ad Bedlam for bebornses.

Then the angry grab me wee swallower and tickler such what I hit out at things; bookshelf, grandmother, passersby like. And oooh the sweet licorice pleasure of the pop shluck pop and the withdrawie of the knuckles from the juicy ooze. But, ooh I just broksie me booksieholder todaywhat mun I hit it. Me arthritispoppers have decent wee mun callouses on them from hitting things; grandfather, neighbor kid, passing taxi. Me property shows signs of the rage red ball eyed and gnawmark on the couchleglike. Thankfully, I was sorely tempted on to deviate the septum of a wingnut rightsie tiestraightened goodman who called to me "ye traitor and cornhole pirate sailor girl to my face" at sun anti-warsie marchlike Saturn'sday.

Thoughts leak outlike into syrup on the ground and congeal in little butterflies and biting bees that plague my crouchers and head rester. I develop venom and spit the mean cobra hiss of hatred of Bushhitler of his cronies of 23-percenters that supportses. Tis wrong to wee mun pass under the burning spheres anger like choking the swallower and tummyrumbler, but I grendel those thumbersuckers who destroysies our loveyland.

By all rights to be self-evidentlike, I should getsie help. No. No helpsie. No doctors. No bad men. No white coats. No anti-depressants and the beatsie on the calibanback and the Ravenscroft home. No. Me ended up slobbery drivel and copslike pull over my automobilee and put me finger onto me snotter and sneazer. Unemployed for three years and moving back in with me grandparents. I hit them. Zombie eat brains under the flourescent flickering neon night. I was your classic. They don't cotton the changes to my personality either (mum and dadgrand). They stopped paying for me meds. Goodbye to meds. Hello to Mr. Driveback. Workinglike as a software engineer tinkering tinker tinker. Bell. Or sprint? Or Qwest. I foundsie out again my qwest, to move into me own diggses, swamphome and subaquatic glittering Grendel cave. Gots me own clinkgeld and meadhall.
Oh no, bad voices, me told yon mundie counselor the deep wee feelingsme, the fear of mun government, the spending of the clinkgeld on the shotgun and the hand grenades and the duct tape and the saran wrap and the bow and arrows (with the steelie steelie tipsies). And the machete. A deadly weapon, to defend myself against wee government come a knock knockity knock on mun heavy belatched lentil-hanger. I'm afraid of mun wee bod gettin bethrown into yon nut ward. Value to me the yonder freedom of the foggy fen subHeorotic for kenning. Bad men come. We tears them. We beats them. We boltsie down the bods hands, feet and all. No, no shrinks. I coming to your town soon.

I haven't felt my best friend and ex-roommate in weeks. He stinksie in yon mun corner. His heap a greyish goo be. His name Anthony Burgess."

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~
Spokenthee goodlike, Reximus Maximus!

-Mikhail

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There needs to be more reverence here, comrades. You have all completely lost sight of what this post is about. Remember, indoctrination is not the end but a lifetime journey. I suggested reindoctrination for everyone:

https://www.che-lives.com/home/

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Dr. Strangelove wrote:There needs to be more reverence here, comrades. You have all completely lost sight of what this post is about. Remember, indoctrination is not the end but a lifetime journey. I suggested reindoctrination for everyone:

https://www.che-lives.com/home/

Spokenzee goodzu.
Yes, poor comrade Che... (sniffle) cut off in his prime (whimper) captured and forced to endure capitalist interrogator babes beating him with a wet noodle (hanging head) the mind is troubled by the very thought of it. We're with you, comrade Che, as you lead the charge in fighting the forces of al dente rigatoni. Che Che Che Che...

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ABCDarius Rexissimus, there is a <a href="> for you, and mine is due in any moment.

Now let's go and practice a little of the ultraviolence on that ptisa-gulliver Nansky.

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Undercover Agent R who has just returned from a European fact-finding mission sent me these pictures she snapped in Germany, of Che appearing on the covers of their magazines.

One of them is actually a production of MSNBC that shows a much more openly progressive and uninhibited approach to issues, as opposed to the secretive undercover approach it still has to maintain in the fascist Amerikkka out of fear of repressions by the Bushitler's stormtroopers.

This is why the media elites love Europe so much - there, they don't have to lie about who they really are. They can open up and let their enlightened progressivism shine brighter than the stars over Kremlin towers.

<img src=/images/Che_Magazine_1.gif>

<img src=/images/Che_Magazine_2.gif>

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And how wonderful it will be when we can all aspire to be members of the politburo or the artistic class, with private hospitals and medicine, dedicated traffic lanes, and all that lovely power telling people what to do. After all, it is not enough that we succeed. Others must fail. And we must see to it.


 
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