The cake isn't yellow, it's chicken.
I sit before you tonight in a fetid pool of my own man-angst. Our country is facing a formidable set of foes, and the toxic triumvirate of Islamocommunism, feminism and homosexuality are giving Uncle Sam a gangbanging, the memory of which he will have one hell of a time repressing.
This vaginal year of our Lord, 2007, opened with Nancy Pelosi wielding the Speaker's gavel as a political tampon, soaking up the crimson war dreams of us Red-statists for disposal in the latrine of moral relativist equivalence.
If you know me - and you DON'T - you're aware that I am man enough to admit to stuff, like when I admitted that Republicans are awesome. But now, circumstances are such that I have to admit something bad: liberals are gaining momentum. This is shown in the fact that, according to a recent poll taken on the war, 61% of Americans are anti-American. Under the sway of sodomite Saddamites, a majority of Americans now favor giving themselves a black eye. Why are you hitting yourself, America?
Why are you hitting yourself?
Why are you hitting yourself?
In this morass of limp-wristed self-abuse, leave it to our cocksure ComMANder In Chief to polish America's sword and prime its seamen for the long haul. Bush is not about to let America defy America's will to win. Surge is more than just a bright green soft drink from the late 90's. It is a plan for victory. Victory at home, that is. Let me man-splain.
Ever since the 60's, the authority of white Christian men has been eroded by the permissive subversion of beatnik hippie mod gangsta raver punk freaks. Thanks to "victimized" interest groups like "women", "gays", and "Hebrews", Anglo-American dude-iful swagger suffered the syphilitic arrows and hypodermic needles of outrageous outrage.
Despite their impudence, we didn't have the leftists all executed. In response, did these whiny slackers show us due gratitude? Oh no they didn't! A simple "Thanks for not having us all executed" was apparently too much to ask. Instead, WE were forced to get used to THEM being both "here" and "queer".
After the potheads spent decades emasculating America through agitation, appeasement, and rejecting us for dates, haters of Western nads abroad were emboldened. The results of this were seen on the unforgettable day of September the 11th, 2002 (2001? 2000? whenever) - Islamocommies severed two glistening, rigid pillars of American potency.
It took leaders with manful souls like Bush, Cheney and Condi to understand this. Normal Americans yearned to stop being shamed for being born white, Protestant and totally not defensive about their sexuality. The old societal order, having one ball in the grave, was in crisis. THAT - the existential crisis of testosteronepolitik - is why we had to invade Iraq. Of course the WMD stuff was bullshit, but you hippies weren't supposed to POINT THAT OUT!
The cake's not yellow, it's CHICKEN!!!
So invaded Iraq we didst. America's enemies, within and without, were shocked and awed by our explosive geo-virility. But the freak-flagged foes of penile clarity birthed a rear-guard assault from their wobbly wombs. With IEDs and ironic quips blemishing the Erectile Restoration, the authorities are being made to look foolish. God-engorged manpower is under withering assault, and not just from terrorists and lesbians, but from demographic shifts, Mexicans, the War On Christmas, music I don't understand, single mothers, satire, China, the immoral yet intoxicating allure of gay pornography, etc.
Dear friends, we are on the verge of losing the CONTROL we WASPs were lead to believe we deserved. Control over those who require our testicular guidance - even control over ourselves is at stake. That's why this surge is needed. It's not about suppressing Sunni-Shiite sectarianism. I couldn't even type that sentence without yawning. No, it's about making a last stand for the credibility of Manhood.
Writing our names in the sand, we stalwart cyber-spawn of the spores of Bill Buckleyism stand athwart post-modern post-traumatic post-pardum history, yelling "I'M RELEVANT!"
Yea, verily, let our testiculation reverberate through the certitude-averse cervixes of ye who would have ME question MY identity and MY truths.
One last opportunity to shoulder the White Cock's Burden.
YOU DON'T KNOW ME.