I’ve written before about how Obama’s puerile self-impressed and vain nature precludes him from persuading anyone, but it also manifests itself in other more repugnant demonstrations by himself and his acolytes.
Whether it’s accidental or intentional, acquiring the 800 numbers to spell 1-800-****-YO is consistent with the class level and sense of respect and propriety that this community organizer and his wretched minions have. You can take the Organizer out of the community, but you can’t take the bedraggled crime riddled community out of the heathen Organizer. I have no doubt, if it were up to him, there would be graffiti and filth all over the White House.
Funny, just a few weeks ago I read about the infestation of rat and cockroaches scurrying the floorboards in 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Whether the Organizer brought them or not he probably feels right at home just like in his provincial estate in the murder capital of the country. It’s like being back on the blood soaked streets shadowed by rats fattened by the blood, filth and flesh, and roaches so grotesquely engorged they appear more as walking shot-glasses than insects.
Chicago, my kind of town. Dirty, filthy, corrupt, murderous and wretched, don’t bother leaving it, bring it with you. There have been many pictures illustrating the class this organizer exudes. How many pictures of him flipping the bird have you seen? Well, there are quite a few. Take a look, google it. No doubt it’s this type of exhibition which draws the flies wafting up to the forehead of the digitus infamis in chief.
Makes you proud to be an American eh? Reminds me of a story when I used to live in New York City. I lived in Chelsea in Manhattan. It was before the neighborhood became littered and cramped with gaudy galleries, bawdy gay bars, and overpriced espresso (overpriced even for Manhattan). A young person could actually afford an apartment. Anyway, one night I was heading toward a bodega around the corner from my place on 18th Street. Across 9th Avenue from the bodega, were sets of assisted living apartments. You know the kind. They’re flat and dull painted cinder-blocked buildings, with stained window with rusty bars to prevent toddlers from tumbling out of them and splashing into the street. The white rust dappled window frames had air conditioners clinging to them tenuously, and the entry ways were cement with weeds reaching upwards through the cracks. Such a dismal place that plastic wrappers, paper bags, and other debris swirled around as the wind rushed to escape it even on placid days. You’ve seen them if you’ve been in one of our immaculate cities. Anyway you get the picture.
Well, as I was walking towards the bodega a woman about 35 years old stepped out onto the side walk and down onto the street heading towards the housing units. She was in a black sheer dress, cut way above the knee, high stiletto heels, with a face whipped up enough to elicit envy from even the most gaudy velvet paintings. That dress was sheer. I mean sheer. Nothing to hide. If she had a barely visible freckle on her bare breast you would be able to spot it through the dress without even a squinting of the eye–that sheer.
But the sobering point was who was with her. It was disheartening and excruciatingly sad. A small hand clutching her dangling palm kept in stride as she clicked her way across the avenue. A little boy, maybe 6 years old, too young to know really what was going on, but old enough to be embarrassed and feeling a bit ashamed about the attention his mom was getting. His mom was a whore. In a few short months or years, her son would learn what that was. What she was.
That’s the kind of pride I feel when I see this “president’s” ill-bred mannerism ooze to the surface for all to see like puss on a blister.
Say what you like about George W. Bush, maybe he’s not the smartest most intellectual president. Clearly he didn’t garner the “Smartest President Ever” label. And maybe he was a hayseed that spent too much time on his ranch clearing brush. But at least he respected the office, American tradition and it’s people enough to not intentionally besmirch us all by exhibiting ill-bred, deplorable, and reprehensible behavior more commonly found on street trash hookers than in the White House.
What’s with the Democrats and their presidential choices? The last two clearly are un-moored from any sense of morality, virtue, sense of pride, and are removed from the belief that there is something larger than one’s self. One was steeped and enslaved by his salacious yearnings and the other is just a spent piece of used jet trash (ht T. Waits),a low-life; classless
The Organizer’s contempt for the American people and our traditions can be seen just in the last day or two in many examples. Keep in mind, what to close and open is fully at the discretion of the OMB during shutdown. (OMB is under the Organizer).
- Gov’t shutdown spreads to beaches of Normandy
- Founding Fathers’ Tavern Closed by Government Shutdown
- Barrycades: Feds Try to Shut Down Privately Owned Mount Vernon
- Troops Forage for Food While Golfers Play On in Shutdown
He’ll do anything to smear and besmirch our country’s people, history, and tradition while throwing a puerile tantrum because he didn’t get his way. He relishes doing it. He’s an embarrassment.
No wonder nobody follows him, he’s an ill-bred boor.