The 12 minutes I listened to Doris Monson on KIRO yesterday was among the most entertaining bits of radio I've heard all year. It was truly fun to hear Mr. Mom-chismo, he of the Seahawks Manly Men, stammer and strain as the truth finally sets in:
Obama will most likely be elected today and that will most likely cost Doris some not-so-hard-earned cash.
Last night I'm sure he surveyed his traded out home, surrounded by a traded out Invisible Fence, glanced loving at the traded out JagWire in the driveway and thought: Obama wants me to give all this up.
Yes, Doris - it's sad. Although you, as a Faux Libertarian, would sincerely like to believe that all men are islands, it just ain't true. Seven years of a badly conceived war (led by Dubya, yer hee-row), seven years of Wall Street greed unbridled by those pesky gubmint regulations and seven years of a savant in the White House whose prime directive has been guided by "They tried to kill mah dad!" has led to this shining moment:
You may actually be forced to go to Disneyland with the fam in 09 instead of back to Italy. You may actually have to buy a few things in 09. You may actually be asked to pay for infrastructure costs, health care for the lower classes and unemployed. You may actually have to face up to a tax rate that other industrialized nations (you know, the ones that are killing us in the global market) face every working day.
The quivering voice and stretched tendons were a welcome sound when compared to the usual Wizard of Odds bombast Doris tosses out.
After that display of sniveling, I have only three words for Obama:
Bring. It. On.
Obama will most likely be elected today and that will most likely cost Doris some not-so-hard-earned cash.
Last night I'm sure he surveyed his traded out home, surrounded by a traded out Invisible Fence, glanced loving at the traded out JagWire in the driveway and thought: Obama wants me to give all this up.
Yes, Doris - it's sad. Although you, as a Faux Libertarian, would sincerely like to believe that all men are islands, it just ain't true. Seven years of a badly conceived war (led by Dubya, yer hee-row), seven years of Wall Street greed unbridled by those pesky gubmint regulations and seven years of a savant in the White House whose prime directive has been guided by "They tried to kill mah dad!" has led to this shining moment:
You may actually be forced to go to Disneyland with the fam in 09 instead of back to Italy. You may actually have to buy a few things in 09. You may actually be asked to pay for infrastructure costs, health care for the lower classes and unemployed. You may actually have to face up to a tax rate that other industrialized nations (you know, the ones that are killing us in the global market) face every working day.
The quivering voice and stretched tendons were a welcome sound when compared to the usual Wizard of Odds bombast Doris tosses out.
After that display of sniveling, I have only three words for Obama:
Bring. It. On.