Here he is, pictured in his sinister Mouseketeering attire, expounding on the proliferation of owl pellets on his front porch. Picture the rotund, ridiculous little man listening to My Morning Jacket because he heard them on Family Guy and thought it would make him look cool. No, Mr. Rove, you are certainly not cool, nor is there any potential, given the finite time during which the universe is capable of sustaining the existence of such a life form as Karl Rove, for you to be cool. Give it up, sir. You have failed.
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ReplyDeleteWith all due tail-tucking fear to Mr. Rove, Roberto is in the driver's seat here. His greatest weapon is his ability to appear to be a sad, laughable, effeminate, four-eyed sissy, too weak to wreak real havoc. But I know. Roberto: it's personal. I will hunt you down to my last breath, and will not rest until I am feasting on your still-beating heart, as you look on in horror. Count on it. Such is my price for not allowing me to post this nifty article I just wrote.
ReplyDeleteMay I have the entrails? My neighbors love tripe, and I can trade for plastique.
ReplyDeleteEntrails? You have yourself a deal, my friend.
ReplyDeleteMmmmm... entrails!
ReplyDelete