Politics & Rants

The Gentry Caste and Their Human Trash Nominees

Ahhh... another grind up to yet another pointless American election. Those farcical stage productions held every four or so years to convince the mewling masses that we actually have a representative government. Oh how soothing the illusions and delusions must be for those who sup on blue pills. (May they suffocate in their cranial sandpit).

So, who's the jackass gentry RINOS want now? That land-whale Crispy Creme Cristy? Pauly-The-Mush-Ryan? Jebster the 3rd, Duke of Chambre de Commerce? Oh... a retread! How titillating! Willard Fillmoure Romneycare - back again like MDR Syphilis... ahhh isn't that just swell? Why, that's about as refreshing as August-ripened roadkill that a skunk alternated vomiting, pissing and shitting on.

(On a related note: Would somebody Goddamned put this Republican horse the fuck down already? Christ on a crutch... the spectacle is downright pathetic. The elephant's guts are dangling out it's asshole, and watching the deplorable thing drag it's entrails hither-and yonder on sawed off nubs is neither amusing nor overly productive).

The astounding thing is, gentry caste RePubics run the same rancid garbage, year after year, and then stumble around all befuddled when their glistening statist turd-robot gets monkey-hammered by the Prog-Nazi's. People won't pick the low-fat statist in a competition between that and full-freak-flag-commie. The free-shit-army will choose Santa every time.

So then... it's to be Ken-Doll? What could possibly go wrong! Allow us here at DETH H.Q. to blow some sunshine up the assholes of the assholes responsible for running the modern day Whig Party:

Willard - and his magic-Underoos - serves as the alpha-poster-boy for the vapid oligarchs that control both parties - not to mention the entirety of the piggish American regulatory state. Just look at the mother-fucker for the love of God... the man's face is a marvel of modern prosthetic symmetry. His hair is not so much "combed" as it is "applied" - like magic-shell to soft-serve. The chap slithered strait out of the uncanny valley, and Jesus Christ, somebody get us Rick Deckard on the line ASAP, we've got a replicant on the lose!

Don't get all high and mighty moonbats. Your precious little Democrats and their clown parade are no better. The distinction is, they figured out years ago the value in keeping up appearances - pretend to be one of the "serfs." Do some serf things. Shed some crocodile tears for the latest Twitter-crusade-of-the-week. Then you're free to sell the whole gibbering lot up the river Styx (We believe the current parlance is "they Grubered some folks").

The stiffs running the Republicans have yet to grasp or execute the notion of "folksy," and their last attempt ended up looking like an inbred Down syndrome case who just discovered he had opposable digits.

Whelp - we're good and truly fucked!

Look at the bright side - whoever wins in 2016 won't make a damn bit of difference. The iceberg collision was decades ago, and the lifeboats never really existed in the first place. Our first piece of advice is to get your pantry, your drinking water and your arsenal in well regulated order. Once you've finished that, we recommend you mosey on up to the A Deck Smoking Room. Enjoy the music, light something expensive and tip back your preferred libation - before the amok times start.