Obama to Rubes, "Argue With Them And Get in Their Face!"

From here.

Quote:

In Elko, Obama tried to anticipate his critics and called on the crowd of about 1,500 to sharpen their elbows, too.
"I need you to go out and talk to your friends and talk to your neighbors. I want you to talk to them whether they are independent or whether they are Republican. I want you to argue with them and get in their face," he said.
"And if they tell you that, 'Well, we're not sure where he stands on guns.' I want you to say, 'He believes in the Second Amendment.' If they tell you, 'Well, he's going to raise your taxes,' you say, 'No, he's not, he's going lower them.' You are my ambassadors. You guys are the ones who can make the case."

Da, comrades! Who needs logic and facts when coercion and intimidation gets the job done just as well?!

The Great Organizer has spoken! Go forth and trample them into submission!
 

Argue? Uh, a bit of a time waster. Obviously O hasn't been on the lines like I have. Oh, don't get me wrong, I love to get in peoples faces, but arguing suggests some give and take. What I do is, I get in their face, yell, then comence with some moderate persuassion with my baseball bat. Then they are left speechless and unable to dispute the Parties Truth. Works like a charm. Although wooden bats work really well, they have a tendency to break, while aluminum has that nice 'ping' sound.

*Please PLease, Do NOT go about breaking bones in your area. Please leave this chore to a Union Professional who has been properly trained. Again, Do Not use baseball bats on humans unless properly trained and sanctioned by the AFL-CIO or other Party affiliated union or Party Official.

(Now I'm feeling a blog post about proper persuassion techniques from a life long union member coming on)
 

Alternatively, Comrade O could instruct his minions to tell their friends to watch Comrade Matthews and I on the Peoples Network, MSLSD. We will set them straight.
 

The Obamessiah is a true disciple of The Great Lenin.
In true Lenin-fashion,he knows that lies told often enough.....


Go Bama!Go Bama! You got yo game on!!
 

Wow, I went out and talked to my friends and neighbors today like Obama said. But, you know, I've found there isn't much meat in his arguments.

Friend: "Well, I'm not sure where he stands on guns."

Me: "He believes in the Second Amendment."

Friend: "What makes you say that?"

Me: "He believes in the Second Amendment!"

Friend: "How so? He sure isn't any NRA member."

Me: "He believes in the Second Amendment!!!"

Friend: "Believes in it? There's a couple of ways it's been interpreted. What do you mean he believes in it?"

Me: "He believes in the Second Amendment!!!"

******

Neighbor: "Well, he's going to raise your taxes."

Me: "No, he's not, he's going to lower them."

Neighbor: "Oh? How so?"

Me: "No, he's not, he's going to lower them!"

Neighbor: "He says he's going to raise the taxes of the rich and cut taxes for everyone else but simple math shows that won't pay for all the things he wants to do with the government."

Me: "No, he's not, he's going to lower them!!!"

Neighbor: "That's very hard to believe, Margaret."

Me: "No, he's not, he's going to lower them!!!"

Neighbor: "Get out of my face, Margaret; you stupid ignorant moonbat."

Me: "No, he's not, he's going to lower them!!!"
 

I heard Todd Palin challenged Obama to a duel.
 

I believe we need to engage in the "Asian Persuasion" methods employed by our Chinese comrades back in June of 1989 at Tiananmen Square. They haven't gotten much right about our Glorious Revolution, but this one time - they won my admiration.

We must send the tanks and soldiers into Georgia and Texas if we are going to properly persuade the People's Enemies.
 

Ah, once again the subtle eloquence of Obama's thinking is revealed: send thugs to yell and scream at voters here while he wants to go to Middle East and kiss the asses of all our enemies! How nuanced is this man we call Asshole Obama!
 

Comrade Margaret,

Did you properly position yourself in the face of the evil capitalist foe? I find that plenty of boiled cabbage and onions for breakfast helps silence the false argument of the imperial oppressors allowing the weight of the party’s truth to take hold.

Remember as Comrade Union Boss says, this “argument” isn’t allowed to be a discussion as it is for the greater good. In my days as a community organizer in Assyria, I found that first you place your armed assistants on both sides of the opposition to be intimidated converted. Then you organize the military and purge the party, allowing exportation of the revolution to new land to free more workers to be organized.

Remember: get in close, plenty of the people’s cabbage, talk first, talk fast, and talk loud. And bring muscle.

~Your Comrade Pul~
Organizing Communities for Over 2753 Years
 

I had a conversation with a bartender today, Margie, which was somewhat similar to your conversation with your freinds and neighbors (although I am much, much more convincing).


Me: "I'm voting for Obama. I suggest you vote for Obama, too."

Bartender: "I kind of like the other guy. He has a very compelling story."

Me: "And being African-American isn't compelling!?"

Bartender: "Uh... um... well, uh..."

Me: "Oh! Now you're mocking Obama now, huh? Making fun of his eloquent speaking style!?"

Bartender: "No! I... uh... I think he is a nice guy and all."

Me: "A nice guy!? Of course he is a nice guy! He wants to give everyone a $1,000 dollars! You will benefit from his tax plan, friend! Obama cares about dumb rubes like you!"

Bartender: "I own this bar. He doesn't have my interest at heart."

Me: "Excuse me. Excuse me. Is that some sort of racist code word or something?"

Bartender: "Huh?"

Me: "Own". You said "own". Are you trying to imply that you own this bar and that having a Community Organizer as president would somehow prevent you from "owning" this bar?"

Bartender: "What the hell are you talking about? First I never said anything about a Community Organizer and what the hell exactly is a Community Organizer anyways?"

Me: "Ah ha! You said the CO word which is clearly -- clearly! -- a racial code word that you are not voting for Barack because he is black! I knew it! I knew you were a racist!"

Bartender: "Get out."

Me: "But... He will give you a thousand dollars. :-)"

Bartender: "Now!"

I think I won him over. No one can turn down $1,000 dollars. That is like a new computer or a TV.
 

Chairman M. S. Punchenko

I think I won him over. No one can turn down $1,000 dollars. That is like a new computer or a TV.

Or "a People's Toaster AND a tank of gas" to quote the Obamessiah's Vice-Minister of Clean-and-Articulate-Speak.



Comrade “Pul”
Tiglath-Pileser III
Over 2753 Years of Organizing Communities
 

Heres my story from the trenches. I was speaking to a PUMA. For some reasons, these Hillary supporters are still stinging from getting pwned in the nations caucuses. We really schooled them there. HA. You can really shout down agitators at them things. I still don't understand how caucuses work, but they are ripe for union intimidation techniques. Anywho, back to my story. This neighbor Puma says to me today;

Puma: Mccain is taking the lead in the Electoral College,

Me: Obama will win. He is the logical choice. The polls are rigged. Everyone but racists love Obama. He supports the 2nd ammendment. He will lower taxes for working people.

Puma: Well, I''m not racist, and weathly people are working people too and Obama's policies.......

Me: SHUT UP BIOTCH! YOU WILL LOSE, AND YOU WILL SHUT YOUR PIEHOLE OR EAT MY BAT! HOW DARE YOU! GOD HATES MCCAIN. OPRAH LOVES OBAMA. SHUT YOUR LYING RACIST FACE!

Puma: Oh my god, your insane. You can go to jail for threatning to hit me with that. I'm 79 years old. Oh my god. I'm going home.

Me: THATS Right....Keep walking. Call the cops, ya big baby! I know the Chief! We golf together! My brother paved his driveway!

Well, I don't really know the Chief, but he is a puss, so I don't care. Thats my tale. It felt good. Good for the Party. Good for the Country. None of my neighbors dare argue with me. I am winning! I am a winner! The polls are a lie!
 

I have my own dramatic testimony of what happened when I went out to do The Obamessiah’s bidding, and get in the faces of independents, Republicans, and undecideds.

I must warn you, Comrades: My harrowing account includes sex, lies, babies, scandals, police brutality, pellet guns, concussion grenades, pepper spray, suppression of free speech, and some light typing and filing. You may want to send your children out of the room—no, better yet, gather them around, so they can see how bleak their future will be should the Obamessiah not become our next Leader of the Free World.

Instead, the following may be unsuitable for Polar Bears. The discretion of people who care about our planet and our future and all of humanity is advised.

Before venturing out, I’d heard of others before me who’d been spat upon, beat up, and shot for trespassing, etc. I knew that danger lurked everywhere, but I also knew how important it was that I go out and get votes for Obama. I had to do it, no matter what the risks. For our future. For the world. For The Polar Bears.

I donned my Hussies for Obama T-shirt and my lucky red headscarf. Armed with only my trusty shovel to serve as my mighty Staff of Truth, Shield of Hope, and Instrument of Change, did I set out to spread His word.

Ding dong!

The door opened. The man looked at me and my shovel, then said, “We already have someone to do our lawn, and they speak English. Go back to Mexico and take your anchor brat with you.”

“But sir, I’m here to talk to you about Barack Obama and his plan for America.”

“My lawn guy also does the fertilizing, so take your bullshit somewhere else, lady.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Ma, call the cops! We got another one of them agitators out on the front lawn. Get ’em on the horn before she pitches a tent, drops her drawers, and takes a leak on your new garden gnome.”

“Hear me out, mister. Barack is going to lower your taxes. And he’s going to give you health care—affordable health care. And he’ll pay for your kids to go to college, so they won’t have to join the military no matter how stupid they are. He’ll stop all drilling, go after those eeevil oil companies, and invest in alternate energy so we can break our dependency on foreign oil.”

“And how does he mean to pay for all that if he’s going to cut everyone’s taxes?”

“There’s no need for you to be racist, mister.”

“Racist? Who’s being racist? All I want to know is how he means to pay for everyone’s health care and college and alternate energy without raising taxes. What’s racist about that?”

“It just is!”

“Yeah, well is it racist to add that he has zero foreign policy experience?”

“Sir, all you’re trying to do now is distract me from the real issues. The issues that Obama says are more important than all your petty smears.”

“Yeah, well would you mind telling me just what those issues are?”

“Sir, I’m really starting to lose patience with your smears and lies and fearmongering and racial slurs. You give me no choice now but to get in your face and—WHOA!” I stumbled backward and nearly fell off his front porch as just like that, he pulled a shotgun on me. It was all lime green and hot pink, as if designed for a girl. A girl like Polar Bear-killer Sarah Palin.

At that same moment, a police cruiser pulled up.

“There’s your ride, Red Riding Hood,” the man sneered.

I looked on in horror as the sheriff’s deputy emerged from his car and told me to drop my shovel and remove my red headscarf. I figure I’d better do so before he forced me into some kind of “suicide by cop” scenario. As I dropped the shovel and tore off my headscarf, I shrieked as something blasted me in the butt. I hit the ground, scraping my elbows and skinning my knees. The deputy told me not to move. Then I heard this clicking noise, like maybe he was taking my picture to e-mail to all his friends down at the station.

The embarrassment! The humiliation! The mortification! The trauma!

The cop bent over me and asked, “Are you okay?”

Was I okay? What did he think? I’d just been blasted in the butt by something wet—I think the man must’ve used a super soaker on me. How was I supposed to get home with my butt all wet? People would look at me, point their fingers and laugh, and kids would say to their parents, “Look, Mommy, that lady wet her pants.” Men would yell, “Hey lady, screw the planet! Next time use disposables!”

The possibilities were too much to suffer.

The cop asked again if I were all right, and all I could say was, “I don’t know.” I couldn’t bring myself to tell him my bottom was wet, because I was afraid he’d laugh and make fun of me for wetting myself, when I know it had to be from that guy’s super soaker.

At least I hope it was.

The cop went away, leaving me without the slightest concern for my well being. Suppose the man had shot me with a real bullet? That cop would’ve left me there on the ground to bleed to death like one of Sarah Palin’s moose.

He took my shovel and my red headscarf. I said they were mine. He said they didn’t have my name on either of them, and that if I wanted them back, I could come to the police station and claim them.

Go along with him? Was he crazy? Or did he think I was crazy?

He told me to get off the man’s property. As I staggered off, all the while I kept waiting for him to make some snide remark about my wet bottom. The anticipation was terrible, I tell you, all the more so because in the end he never said anything. It was torture not knowing at what point he was going to start making fun of me for peeing my pants.

I went home. And I just know he went back to the station and told all his colleagues about my wet pants. And I just know that man who shot the super soaker at me is joking with his wife even now. Joking about how he shot the super soaker at my butt to make it look like I peed on myself instead of his wife’s new garden gnome.

This is my courageous story. I think I deserve reparations from the government for my bravery and patriotism in the face of fascist brutality and suppression of my free speech rights, don’t you?
 

These tales are very inspiring. I don't even care if they are true or not, The fact that they MAY be true, or could have happened somewhere, sometime, is true testament to the need for a half breed community organizer turned struggling lawyer turned first term state senator turned first term US Senator turned underdog Democrat candidate turned Nominee turned Citizen of the World and Chosen One as our 44th president. We Obama supporters and ground game personnel ARE the backbone of this country. It is up to us to get Obama elected, to deplete the bank accounts of all white christian republican males, and force this nation to see life through the eyes of a marxist visionary. Thank you Barack for saying what I think, telling me how to act, instructing me what to do, and ridding me of my burdensome wealth. Thank you Joe Biden for showing me how I can be a Patriot by allowing my money to be confiscated! Obama 08-16
 

Union Boss

These tales are very inspiring. I don't even care if they are true or not...
When Al Sharpton was asked about the veracity of Tawana Brawley's case, he said, "The story do sound like bullshit, but it don’t matter. We’re building a movement."

Keep 'em coming, comrades! Keep 'em coming. It's all for the GreaterGood(TM)!
 

Pinkie, somewhere, my eyes are weeping at your glorious heroism.
 

Yes, but when do you intend to go out and do your part, Betinov? And all the rest of you who haven't yet gone out to Spread The Word?

The Party expects all of you to check in at the end of the week with a complete log of the hours you spent proselytizingcampaigning on behalf of The Obamessiah, the number of doors you knocked on (or down), and the number of new (or even previously registered) voters you signed up with the promise to Vote Obama!

There is no excuse not to sharpen your elbows, go out and become one of his ambassadors! Not even work. Remember, you are all unemployed and unable to figure out how you're supposed to pay for your next meal, your next tank of gas, or even your next manicure! Why pound the pavement looking for some dead end job that Bush has already outsourced to India, when you may better spend your time in glorious service to the Obamessiah?

You have kids? Toddlers? Babies? Yet no child care? That's to be expected under the failed policies of the Bush Administration, which has denied funding for day care, forcing millions of mothers to stay at home and raise their own kids. But neither is that an excuse not to go door to door on behalf of the Obamessiah. Bring your kids along! For they're never too young to start learning the rewarding joys of going door to door, telling everyone they meet about all the wondrous, marvelous things the Obamessiah is going to do for America, and of the sparkling New World that awaits us when he will heal the planet and make the oceans go down, and oh! Just think! In Obamessiah's New World, everyone will get to keep a polar bear for a pet!

Additionally, bringing your kiddies along will serve another purpose. People are less likely to spit on you, shoot you, cuss you out, etc., if you come knocking at their doors with a child at your side, but if they do--well, baby strollers make great shields.

And if your kids start whining and complaining and wanting to go home and watch cartoons--well, take 'em back to the car and "re-educate" them till you "exorcise" the Republicans out of them.

Now get going, all of you! And this time, cut down on the bathroom breaks. Stopping at gas stations and convenience stores to use the restrooms takes up valuable time better spent spreading Obamessiah's Word. Not to mention one usually feels obligated to make a purchase in conjunction with the restroom visit, which not only sucks up even more time, but promotes dangerous ideas like materialism and capitalism, which can lead you astray from the truth of Hope and Change you need, and is an abomination in the eyes of Obamessiah.

Remember what He sayeth: "You are my ambassadors." Go forth, Obama's Ambassadors! Go forth and make his case!

Oh, the tingle up my leg! I feel as if I am full of B.S.!*

*Barack's Spirit
 

Oh, you are so full of B.S., Commissarka Pinkie!!!

SO VERY FULL OF IT!!!

SALUTE!
 

"You are my witnesses"--Someone Named "God," Isaiah 43:10 in the Christofascist handbook.

"You are my ambassadors."--The Obamessiah

And His Ambassadors don't believe in saluting the flag, either!