A few thoughts on the mental disease of Leftism.

I've lived a fair section of life, as some might say. Been there, seen that, done her. But one thing always suprises me a bit, and pisses me off royally, too. It's kind of like being starving hungry, I mean run that live cow by the table so I can carve off a steak hungry, buying a cheeseburger, and having a cockroach scurry off across the table when you unwrap the damn thing. Very mixed feelings at that point, y'know?

I speak, of course, of the feeling one gets when one discovers that a person one took to be a decent, rational, patriotic American turns out to be Just Another God Damned Communist. Disappointment, betrayal, rage, are just a few of the emotions at hand. Uppermost in one's mind may be an almost overwhelming desire to go beat the living crap out of the individual's parents for raising such an utter failure of a human being. That feeling is more likely than not countered by an even stronger worry that such stupidiocy might be contagious, and thus one shouldn't indulge for fear of getting any on one.

It all makes me want to drink heavily, very heavily. In fact, I think I shall. Hold on here, Toe Cheese, lemme make something with hair on it.

Ahhhh. Nothing like a Curzon Line to get one properly lubricated for opinionating.

Curzon Line

Glass
Ice
Vodka (preferably Polish)
Black Haus Blackberry Schnapps

Mix equal parts Vodka and Black Haus with Ice in a Glass. Drink.

Some of you are going to get the Curzon Line reference without looking it up, and you can be my friends. Some of you are going to get it after looking it up, and you might become my friends. Some of you are going to find the name offensive, and you can fuck right off out of here. Real men like military history, and drinks named thereafter.

Where was I?

Ah yes, Leftards. Winston Churchill wasn't the first person to comment on the incredible immaturity it takes to believe the patent nonsense constituting Leftism, and he certainly won't be the last. Hell, unless we all come to our senses and hang these criminals against humanity, or I live forever, I won't be the last.

Leftism, at it's heart, is an evasion of reality. Let's take a look at the central tenet of Leftism.

"From each according to his ability, to each according to his need."

Now, leaving quite aside the question of who gets to define ability and need, one has to ask why ability should determine what one gives to society, instead of, say, individual judgement and willingness. One also has to wonder if all the resources in society can fill the need of one anti-social person who has learned to make a big laundry list of things they just can't live without. This sort of thinking just isn't encouraged in Publik Skool, as it might lead people to ask if perhaps we should stop enslaving everyone to pay to "educate" some people's children.

We should privatize every single school in the country, and remove all non-market barriers to entry into the business of education. Yes, Louise, education is a business, just like any other. How would you feel if Gummint took over, say, all forms of transportation, and forced everyone who wanted to go anywhere to ride their product? The hot rod lover in me is cringeing at the thought, and the chopper lover even more so. Can you just imagine government owned transportation at all levels of society? Can you imagine getting your bicycle from the government? It would probably have five wheels.

If you know government would be an infinite fuckup in the field of transportation, (and if you don't, then get the fuck out of here, you pansy) then what makes you trust it in the far more complex field of education? Yet every Leftist alive thinks that government education is a wonderful thing, and wants more of it, especially for those dirty Reichwing Rethuglikkkan Retards in Red States.

But.

If they can afford it, they send their children to private schools.

And so, we come to the first, last, and always foremost problem with Leftism: Unabashed bald faced hypocrisy. They know damned good and well that they are extremely lacking in ability, and over-endowed with need, thus they cling like barnacles to an organizational principal that wouldn't keep any society anywhere in all the history of mankind running smoothly or at all, in the incredibly dim hope that maybe, just maybe, this time it will work. But instead of actually living according to their "principles", they just pretend to do so whilst they actually behave exactly like the horrible dirty capitalist warmongers they bitch oh so self-righteously about.

This is the point you should sit up and listen, because I'm going to reveal to you a truth that has the potential to make your life all better, forever and ever, amen.

Avoid the whiners.

Sounds pretty simple, eh? Yeah, right. Do you know how difficult it is to live up to that? Do you know why it's important? Lemme splain, Lucifer.

Avoiding the whiners is critical, for the simple reason that all Leftards whine. All. No exceptions, although I am not including the Rational Left in this. Folks like Christopher Hitchens, Zell Miller, and Orson Scott Card are no threat to humanity, for the simple reason that they can be reasoned with. The rest of them cannot. Their premises are so false, so demonstrably untrue, so fucking wrong, that nothing can penetrate. They believe such patent nonsense as:

• It's perfectly alright to send a man to jail for hiring a hit man to murder his wife, but not alright to send a woman to jail for hiring a "doctor" to murder her unborn child.
• Saddam Hussein is more trustworthy than George W. Bush.
• We must try to understand the root causes of agression against our country by insane Islamofascist Terrorists, but no such requirement was necessary for dealing with Hitler, Mussolini, or Hirohito.
• Taxation is good for the economy, because government knows better how to spend our money than we do.
• All wealth is the result of government action, thus government can rightfully demand as much of our nation's wealth as it deems necessary to operate.
• It is perfectly alright for a woman to hire a "doctor" to murder her unborn children, but it's not alright for a woman to buy a gun to defend herself and her household.

• WMD's are the only reason we went to war in Iraq, there are no other items of justification in Congress' authorization for the President to use force.

How many times have you heard or read some Leftard spouting off on any or all of the above issues, until faced with facts they refuse to say "You know, you have a point, let me think about that" and instead jump straight off into a tantrum of "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! The bad man is making me face facts and just don' wanna!"

Avoid the whiners. Don't try to argue past the point that you know you're dealing with a confirmed Leftard. Mock them mercilessly instead, and fill your life with joy.

Or ignore them completely. Whatever works.

So there I was...

Don't all good stories, and a couple of metric shitloads of bad ones, start out just like that?

Anyway.

I was at work today. That should come as no suprise to anyone that knows me, cause I'm so fucking Stupid Brand dedicated that I'll go in on my Beelzabubba damned day off, just to get shit done that I didn't have time to do during my regularly scheduled insanity. Maybe if I didn't have so many jackass customers bending my day over regularly for a proper buggering, I could get some of the shit done that Corporate Offices, (long may they rot!) demand of me. Course, then I'd be out of a job, as a low volume of customers means shutting down a location.

Eventually.

If I could figure out a way to make a mint without customers in the retail business, I'd be almost as smart as Al "I can't make money in radio even though all those evil Reichwingnut bastards can't seem to stop making money in radio" Franken thinks he is. But I can't, and I'm not, and there we have it.

Where was I? Wait a minute, let me knock back another shot of cold medicine here, and it'll come to me.

Ahhhh, that's better. I don't pray, but if I ever decide to, the first thing I'm going to do is ask God if she'd be a nice little bitch and let those swell boys over at Tylenol stay at the Paradise Hotel, all on account of the really splendiferous mint flavored cold medicine they've managed to put together. Fuck that other nasty shit that leaves your breath smelling like Dana Priest just took a record breaking dump in your breakfast cereal.

So there I was behind my counter, 47 bajillion customers on the other side of that bad red formica bitch, taking care of their trivial little concerns just as fast as my fat little fingers could work the fucking cash registers keys, when a fine specimen of Passive Agressive Douchenozzle decides to strap on his hobnailed combat boots and tap dance on my last fornicating nerve.

Have I ever mentioned how much I despise the Passive Agressive bullshit people like to pull in this day and age, all for the loverly purpose of getting a few free prints? No? Well, I'm sure I'll get around to it, sooner come later.

This fucknozzle, this cumstain, this rotten spoogemopper in the Porn Theatre of Life, decides not to speak up to the two jackasses that cut in front of him in the line. Oh no. That would be way too much effort, you see. No, it suits Mr. Cumbubble much more comfortably to wait until the actual perpetrators of this indignity upon his person have gone safely the hell away, and then blame ME for his inability to bring his noodlesque spine with him today.

Fuck. Me. Screaming.

As if I even saw these two fine specimens of humanity trample his pride in such a horrific fashion. As if I'd give two wet shits if I did.

Gawd. Damn.

Do you know how hard it is for me to bite my tongue when this sort of scrotum gnawing, dog felching bag of flutternuts brings his personal load of dumbass to my attention, demanding that I fix his problems?

I make photos, man. I'm not in the business of phsychoanalysis. Go find someone with a nice leather couch to listen to your petty bullshit. Me? I'm busy. In the next 30 minutes, I have to squeeze 1798 prints out of a machine the manufacturer swears won't give me more than 1000 in an hour.

Do the math, fucktard!

Ah well, bedtime. I'm outta here. Hang around, hang loose, and tomorrow you get to see me rant about Leftards. And the day after, too. As the mighty Baron of Bang likes to say, "Appeal to your base."

And if you muthas are anything like me, you are base, lemme tell ya.

Yeeeehaw!

Let the raging begin! You peasants may now imagine me in full cowboy regalia, one hand full of the reins, the other waving a genuine sweatstained straw cowboy hat above my head as I dig the spurs into Micheal Moore, riding him down to the local Alchohol, Firearms, Tobacco and Explosives Store.

No, I'm not going to include a picture. What are you, imagination deficient? Sheesh.