I may attempt a post later on the closing arguments in the Rittenhouse Kangaroo-Court Show, or then again I may not. What I do want to get to right away is the golden opportunity emphasized below:
Richards (the defense attorney) has finally woken up. Although he’s still not the clearest-thinking or most articulate guy in the world, he is hitting most of the most important points.
He called the prosecution’s dishonest photo manipulation “Hocus pocus that’s out-of-focus.” Rekeita’s panel liked this. Pretty cornpone.
“Cornpone”? Au contraire, mon frere. In my own estimation, at least, which is that Richards may have been giving a wry, undercover shout-out that Ace didn’t pick up on.
The golden opportunity I’m talking about is the serendipitous chance to expand on last night’s “offend the Progtards to death, literally” post and, better yet, to toss a third post into this here hat too.
Y’all may or may not remember the story about some moronic Wokeist bint proposing in a NYT op-ed that the next candidate for erasure from Western cultural history her fellow mental defectives needed to consider setting their sights on was classic rock. As you would expect, my response to said fascist bint was then and ever shall be the usual resounding Not just no, but HELL no, amongst several other choice expletives, personal insults, and marrow-freezing threats of crippling bodily injury and/or death.
So essentially what we have with the above embedded vidya might be thought of as sort of a lather, rinse, repeat. Of which I got plenty more, and ain’t a-skeered to use ’em, either, for as long as it takes these meddlesome, dictatorial baglappers to either give up and go home, or else wind up shot in their fucking empty gourd by some fed-up-and-then-some Deep Purple fan like, say, myself, don’t care which. I say again: Now go ahead and try to tell me something else you think you’ll forbid me to do, Proggy shitstain.