Neanderpundit

When absolutely, positively, everything in the building has to die.

Thank you, Texas Instruments.

Sweeeet.

I’m sure all the moontards will be up in arms- but I have to tell you, watching Al Zarqawi get 500 lb bombed to Allah has pleased me no end. After yesterday, which was a 17 hour clusterfuck (more later: that’s a rant that might need a whole weekend to compose)waking up to the death of this assclown is gonna make it a beautiful day.

Think about the box of albums in the basement. You know, the one covered up by a pile of rags so the wife doesn’t accidentally stumble onto it. The box with the Lionel Ritchie album. The Hall & Oates album. What were you thinking? Clay Aikin? What in the HELL were you thinking? Dan Fogelburg? Foghat? What the FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

Pull a chunk of spoiled meat out of the trash and slap yourself around with it a little.

Now think about the mailboy. The one who pushes the little cart all around the building delivering people’s mail. The one who wears his pants nice and tight so all the girls can get a god look at his package. Even though his package would shame a medium sized chipmunk. What was he thinking? And Sue, in Marketing, who calls the building maintenance man four times a week in to her office to change the location of pictures so she can watch him stretch those big, tattooed biceps up over his head while she rides her stapler until her chair is soaked. What was she thinking?

As you go through your day, think about all the people who have deserved that ceremonial slap in the face, and realize that as much as you’d like to deliver it personally, for the time being, leave that punishment to The Lord.

of course he’s gonna be busy with Zarqawi for a couple weeks. There’s a guy needs some industrial strength bitchslapping.