My heart, it bleeds.
Frankly, I should certainly think he would at that, and rightly so. He ain’t human, and his actions were nothing short of demonic.
“I just feel like I’m being monster – demonized,” Brooks, 39, said during a brief video visit in Waukesha County Jail – a stone’s throw from where tragedy struck over a week earlier.
What, you ain’t been put down yet, you filthy fucking baboon?
Not even his mother has dropped by, he said. Earlier in the day, she released a statement on behalf of the family decrying Wisconsin’s criminal justice system for failing her son, a longtime felon with a 50-page rap sheet detailing domestic violence, firearms, drugs and other convictions in Wisconsin, according to documents obtained by Fox News Digital.
Well, D’shalon’q’uish’itaa ain’t entirely wrong about that either, although she has things a bit back-asswards, which can’t come as any surprise to anyone with an IQ even a handful of points higher than hers and baby Dindu’s. The Wisconsin “justice” system failed alright—but not these two drains on society, nor any of the other shiftless dregs in dey ‘hoooit. No, D’shalon’q’uish’itaa, the system failed decent, law-abiding, utterly blameless Cheesehead Whypeepuhz, by not locking both you and yo’ Beeeoiiiyeeee* up and throwing away the fucking key after the third (3rd) strike on his rap sheet had been duly logged. Too bad a bunch of people whose only crime was to assume themselves more or less safe from marauding ape-men at a town Christmas parade had to pay the ultimate price for their error.
Still, Brooks said he was “very” close with his mother. He hasn’t spoken to any family since the parade attack but they talked earlier that day, he said. He said he was no longer staying at the address listed in city records as being his residence.
Just over one mile from the jail, Brooks allegedly plowed his red Ford SUV through a throng of paradegoers out taking part an annual holiday celebration that had been canceled last year due to the coronavirus pandemic.
After a few minutes of conversation, shortly after he learned his mother had released a statement on his mental health, Brooks put down the phone and rose from his chair. Two flanking corrections officers shielded him from view, but the sound of what may have been sobbing rattled the receiver.
Good. May this worthless oxygen thief suffer all the tortures of the damned until the frabjous day he is reunited with his Father Below, where the Oweeoweeeoweeeee knob gets cranked up to “eleven” for a thousand years.
* No kidding, now, seriously: I actually made a delivery to a guy earlier tonight whose listed name in the app was exactly, precisely that—only the “B” was not capitalized. The shack, the yard, the whole neighborhood looked exactly as you’d expect it to. Looking back on it now, I’m probably lucky I didn’t get run over or something.