"I'm looking forward to Purge Season. Ahhh... the smell of fear, the sweat on the foreheads, the glaring Klieg lights, the flowing tears, the begging pleas for mercy... I don't know about you, but it gives me goose bumps and a warm fuzzy feeling that my cold-blooded reptillian hypothalamus really enjoys, like a snake sunning itself on a warm, flat rock."

Hillary Clinton,
People's Commissar


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Lately I have been very introspective, reading Cerevantes, Santayana and enjoying the poetry of Dylan Thomas.
I have been immersed in the collective works of Mikael Rudolph.
They have been my inspiration!

Some people think I will quit
Those people don't know me, but they will, oh yes, they most certainly will......
In Denver.

"Party Unity" they goad the masses with.
Step aside....make way....lay down your palms for the Obamessiah.

I will never quit!

How can I quit with the brave souls who are still trying to impeach Bush for peace?
It's like quitting your church!

How can I quit with Pinkie sitting on the ledge of forever?
It's like quitting your church!

How can I quit when Meow forgot to put a stop on that check to Mandalay Bay and the bastards CASHED IT!

How can I quit when Theocritus has not finished the Hildo Hydra 8.6?
What am I to tell my Feminazi Stormtroopers? My WHORES?
"Sorry, no Hildo for you because a MAN disenfranchised ME!"

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

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I always thought a villanelle was supposed to have a villain as a central character. Sort of like poems about Bush, Cheney, and other worst human beings on this planet. But there seems to be one about you, my Empress! I bet Bob Dylan Thomas wrote it for the occasion of your immaculate birth from static electricity and the manuscript was delivered to your cradle by Sir Edmund Hillary, with whom you became close and you mounted each other, after whom you eventually named yourself a few years later, following his unsuccessful attempt to escape from your grasp by mounting Everest.

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Mine Empress!

You are an inspiration to Harriet Christian!

And Rice Girl!

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I like the both women equally long time.

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All the videos show her in bikinis but she isn't in any of them! I was ripped off!

People, this is important. If you are heading for bed, and someone says 'good night' or even "'night", it is important to say "I WILL NOT GO GENTLE!"

You can of course go to bed after that, but kick the door on your way into the bedroom or something. Just to prove that you won't go to bed gentle.

Image Comrade Hillary is unkillable.

From Comrade Gawker (dot com).

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After careful scrutiny of the Rice Girl video, I have concluded that her mammarian protuberances are most equal.