And Speaking of Crap …
The New York Times weighs in with its howler of an editorial on abortion this morning. From the beginning to the end, it’s a tired, duplicitious whine about sensible restrictions on abortion.
The editorialists start off playing hide the ball. They state “[i]t has been three years since the Supreme Court’s conservative majority abruptly departed from precedent to uphold a federal ban on a particular method of abortion.” Hmmm. What particular method of abortion could the Times mean? The (repulsive) run of the mill D&Cs and D&Es? Nope. They mean partial birth abortion. You know. The one where they forcibly pull a full-term viable baby out of the womb by its feet, then crush its head just before it enters the world? Yup. That’s the one. Wonder why the Time’s fails to mention it by name? Maybe because a strong majority of Americans are in favor of banning the inhuman and inhumane procedure?
The editorial continues its death spiral from there, finding boogeymen behind every tree and bush (so to speak). Read the entire ghastly, biased, nonsensical piece for yourself. You be the judge.
‘Puter could’ve written the entire Times editorial in once quasi-sentence: Abortion now, abortion tomorrow, abortion forever! Why can’t the Times be honest with America about its true agenda? Is it because most Americans don’t support their leftist, radical agenda?
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.