"I HAD TO BRAVELY RUN AWAY FROM THE SCENE AND TALK TO MY LAWYERS BUT AS SOON AS I'D DONE THAT I ALERTED THE POLICE THAT A YOUNG WOMAN MAY BE TRAPPED IN MY CAR. VOTE FOR ME. I'M A KENNEDY."
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The chronicles of Ruin, continued. Call me Ishmael said....intelligence is knowing what to do when you don't know what to do. Anonymous said... When I don't know what to do,I come here. 10 September 2009 22:59
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6 comments:
I haven't seen many blogs today but we all seem agreed that the man was a cunt. Funny how all the MSM think he's some kind of saint.
jesus, the radio 4 interviewer kept trying to get the interviewee (some american political expert) to say that if it wasn't for leaving the poor girl to drown the guy would have been president. No, the interviewee said, it wasn't that simple, because Ted was actually a cunt. (I shouldn't comment when I have a bottle of shiraz down my neck as the details elude me)
In the good old US of A,when you have that much power,you can get away with murder.
such a tragic loss
and a man so committed to the cause of humanity
i hear that one of his last acts upon this earth was to sign a petition against my release
god save america
12:13
o ye'll tak' the high road and i'll tak' the low road
Well, I’d just like to say, Mr Ishmael, that I am angry and repulsive at the death of my dear friend, the last surviving member of the Cocko brothers. First there was Joe Cocko, killed by his father’s friends, the Nazis, in the skies over Europe, then there was Jack Cocko, killed by his gangbanging friends in the Mafia or by one lone nut shooting at him from three different positions all at once; then there was Bobby Cocko killed by his friends in the CIA and now, finally, my old friend, Ted Cocko, has passed over to his reward in that great Senate in the Sky. I am pleased that I was able to get him knighted before he died becuase his was a life of great achievement, firstly there was all the money he raised for the IRA, put to great use by my friend, Mr Kneecaps McGuiness, in torturing, bombing, burning, maiming and burying alive so many of our troops, or people as we now call them, and his fellow citizens of the grand wee island of Ould Ireland, where the breeze is sweet as shalimar and there’s forty shades of blood. If it wasn’t for Ted Kennedy and His Excellency Colonel Gadafi then so much of that great sport would not have been had; it is a debt we can never repay the Kennedy family.
And secondly I remember when as a young student I was finding my way around the gaybars of New England, Uncle Teddy, as he liked to be called by the young folks, always had a friendly word of support for me: Don’t worry, Gordy, he’d say, about that age limit shit, I know all the cops and judges,or If that litte twink is winding you up I can send him on a long wet vacation, know whaddamean. Wassa use of having the power vested in ya of a Senator of the United States, if ya can’t get your friends a bit of underage pussy, or in your case, Gordy, cock. He was a real gentleman.
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