Wednesday, January 11, 2017

Sinners in the Hands of an Angry Fake

Behold ye miserable wretches!

Verily, verily this mighty nation shall be punished and shall be brought low.  Yea, the Prophetess Meryl of the Streep hath spoken to the unwashed masses and declared that she hath all knowledge.  The Prophetess Meryl sat even among an assembly of the Sainted Chosen – who maketh their way among us by pretending to be Ordinary on thy silver screen – and declared that perdition is at yon door. 

The Prophetess hath peered down from on high and along the ridgeline of her copious nostrils and reminded us that joining together to partake in sport is the way of destruction.  Yea! Football and MMA shall be a pestilence among us (Go Hokies!).  She hath reminded us that the True Way is to partake worship at the Cineplex with thy shekels given unto the Master HollyWood.  Bow the knee oh ye of little intellect.  Turneth away thy tickets to the Final Four (thy humble correspondent shall maketh a way to dispose of those – if ye so choose.  Mine email address is available). 

Her ways art not the ways of the bully!  Nay!  She decleareth that thou shalt creep on thy belly all thy life thy heathen rednecks!  Oh woe for those with four-wheel drives and NRA memberships!  For it is the sage Press that shall declare the truth – and ye shall not deviate from their dictates – though they mock, slander, pester, condescend and generally ignorith the lands between New Jersey and the Valley of Silicone.  The rod and staff of the Press (mostly their staff), shall beat thee into submission with the whip of Fake News and ye shall like it.  The Press sitteth at the feet of HollyWood; who sitteth at the feet of the Left – who’s feet stinketh.  But it must be endured for the sake of the cause.

Weep ye people!  Wail and tear thy clothes!  (Unless thy clothes be tailored by Christian Dior) and pluck out thy implants!  How shall we survive the impending doom of Common Sense!  The Prophetess and The Left asks us to ponder upon our fearless leader of the past eight harvests.  How our dear leader hath asked that we think not of ourselves – but of our brethren who hath no work – and does not intendeth to work – nor knows what work even is – and bestow upon him the fruits of thy labors.  The first fruits taken from our meager harvest of less than three percent GDP and given unto the dear leader as a sacrifice (because the word ‘taxes’ doth not sit well with the masses).  These are dark days indeed…


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