Wednesday, 15 July 2009

DESERT ISLAND STANISLAV, JULY 4th, 2008, PRESIDENT CODGER McCAIN

Such a shame that President Codger McCain never was and instead we have this dreary, sermonising, I-speak-your-moral-weight-machine, Obama, flying his ghastly, Jackson-Five family all around the world - one expects the wee darlings to burst into song-and-dance - hemmed-in by right-wing Zionist nutters, on the Campaign Trail that Never Ends, platitudinous, know-it-all, smug and boring, My Country 'tis of Thee, the telegenic Ugly American, heading Uncle Sam's global Preachathon, as if anybody gives a fuck whether fat yanks can continue to eat half a cow at one air-conditioned sitting and blow each other's stupid fucking heads off with bargain-price assault weapons. Codger McCain, with his mad plastic wife and his faux-gunslinger heroism was at least someone you could laugh at; Obama, like our own, dear Mr Snot, thinks humour is something that comes out of the autoprompt, something speech-writers do. Sucking the joy, the life out of every occasion and reprocessing it as some shitty, flavourless, I-Know-Best capitalist despotism, Obama is not funny.

Anyway, a year ago stanislav said...

FROM CBS, NBC, CNN, ABC. BBC and SKYMADEUPNEWSAND FILTH.

Posted by Picasa

STATE OF THE LIMEY NATION ADDRESS
BY PRESIDENT CODGER McCAIN

"Mah Fellow Motherfuckers

President Codger McCain here tonight to shoot the fat a little, chew the breeze, right here, fronta the fire with m'dog, Obama, just like my illustrious predecessor in this great office, president whoosis, used to do, y'all know who I mean, the little fat fuck who took over when the other one croaked, the one in the hat, the one who nuked the Nips to Hell and back, slimy little yellow bastards, President Codger McCain'd a bombed every last fucking one of them grunting little monkeys, and their fucking Emperor Horseshit, right back to their rice-munching, head-chopping fucking ancestors, glassed the whole fucking place right over.

All got way too many teeth, ever notice that, mah fellow motherfuckers, how them slopes all got a few too many teeth ? No, I guess not but it's the kinda thing a Commander in Chief needs to know about before he has some sonsa fuckin' bitches blown into next fuckin' week. It's frankly unfuckingAmerican, number a teeth them little bastards got. No wonder they can't talk right, like decent white Christian folks. Eat with fuckin' twigs, they do, probably can't get a knife and fork past all them fuckin' teeth. Obama! get yer fuckin' nose outa that woman's ass, I told ya before, next time I'll take you out on the White House lawn and blow yer Goddamned head off; got m'gun, right here in my pants, next to my catheter. Sorry about that folks, now, where in the Hell was I ?

Yeah right. Foreign policy stuff. No easy way to say this, what with the special relationship and everything, but the Limey President, he's an honest ta fucking Jesus shit-fer-brains fruitcake, a twenty-four fuckin' carat psycho and I am not, mah fellow motherfuckers, bullshittin' yer asses, man's madder'n a grizzly with his dick caught in a trap, running around all over the woods, biting hisself. Been over there in London England myself, met him right up close and I have to tell y'all that that's one mad Limey. And his breath, sonofa fuckin bitch, it smells like the fucking aircon went off down at the morgue, go in a room with the Limey President's like sticking yer head up Satan's asshole. He leaves the meeting every five minutes to go an jerk himself off, y'know, no I'm not shitting ya, comes back in squirming and stuttering, his lower jaw jerking up and down like a fiddler's fuckin' elbow; guy over there, Polack plumber, got a whole new terminology for it.

Y'know, on the tee-vee, everytime I see that Goddamned jaw manouevre, that gulping, I swear to Goda-fuckingMighty that that dude 's got somebody's fist up his Goddamn asshole; right there, on the fuckin' tee-vee, there's someone, under the fuckin' table, behind the fuckin' chair, got their Goddamned fist up the Limey President's asshole.

Goes on the tee-vee, right there plumb in the middlea the Limey Congress, sits there eatin' snot right out a his fucking nose, like a four year old. Right there on the Goddamned tee-vee. I ever see that fuckin' heathen ass-fistin', snot-eatin', jerk-off sonofabitch here in my Oval Office take him right out there on the White House lawn and blow his fuckin' head off, see what he makes a them values; got m'gun, right here in my pants, next my catheter.

Y'know, he came down offa that reservation up at the top of England Britain where they keep the drunks and mental patient folks, all the transwotsanames, the dwarves, all those kinda freaks, web-foots, six-finger, inbred, albino, ginger bastard motherfucking mutant sonsafuckinbitches; got 'em all behind a big wall up there and just throw some money over the top now and again, let 'em elect their own mutant in chief, just like regular people, only these mothers are all a million fucking years and a good few evolutionary developments offa being regular; live in fuckin' caves, mosta them, eat porridge with their fingers, worse than fuckin' Nips, seen it with my own eyes, it's like Limey Mexico, and he came down with that other pansy, the one with the freakshow wife, Jesus H fucking Christ, d'ya ever see a kisser like that ? Park a fucking Humvee in there. Imelda her name is, seems like Uncle Sam is buying her a new house every fucking goddamned fucking week, ugly bitch got more palaces than Saddam fucking Hussein.

Anyway, they all come down off the reservation and take over the Limey Communist Party. Get some oily fag cocksucker off the tee-vee, Mandelstein, or something, a walking sperm bank, sucking everybody's dick, they're all coked-up faggots in the BBC Limey media, the ones that ain't kiddy-fiddlers, and next thing you know the pansy and Imelda are in Buckingham House running the whole fucking joint, selling off seats in the Limey Senate like they was hamburgers and this joker, the one-eyed freak, is at the Limey Treasury burning all the country's fucking money in a great big bonfire.

The Limey Congress is full a dingleberries, see, never done a day's fucking work in their Goddamned communiist lives, Ree-Surchers, mostly, attorneys some of them, even fuckin' worse, and every commie sonofabitch is dancing round the money bonfire cheering their fuckin' heads off as the whole fuckin' country goes up in smoke.

Anyhow, after ten fuckin' years the pansy realises he's been rumbled and heads off to be a Cardinal for ole Pope Nazi while Imelda is gangbanging her way around the world for money, like she was Jackie fucking Onassis, banging like an Iowa shithouse door in a gale, and up steps the current guy, Gordon, off the Reservation.

And it was all shit, he says, on the street outside 10 Buckingham House, holding hands with his Bearded Lady, everything we done this past ten years, all shit, all of it, shit. I'm going in here right now and let the work of change begin, change all that shit into wine, like he was Charlton fuckin' Heston talking to the fuckin' Israelites. There's no need to elect me, he said, my daddy said I should be Limey President, and that should be enough. I'm going in here now and work night and fucking day and change everything about again. Just as soon as folks see how clever I am, they all gonna want me for Life President's what he says, but first I just gotta make sure all the money gets burnt to fuckin' soot and ashes.


Now, my fellow motherfuckers, Limeyland is one weird joint. Here in the US of A, if you if you go a thousand miles from home and go out to a swingers party, y'know, watch some other dude porkstick yer old lady, and leave yer kids all alone in the dark to be carried away by the raggle taggle gypsies-O or some other kinda bestial ethnic minority groupa worthless un American bastards, you might expect to spend some time on the County Farm, gettin' yer ass kicked but over there in Limeyland they pay off yer fuckin' mortgage for ya and open ya up a huge fuckin' bank account and put your brother in charge of it and the Limey government gives you a spokesman of your own. Get to go on the teevee every day just like a regular motherfucker, instead a gettin' fuckin' stones thrown at ya, like you should. Gerry and cilla, they call 'em, McCann. President Codger McCain'd put their Scotch asses in jail.

So it's no surprise to this old warrior that the Communist Limey press corp bought right in to that change shit, off Assman, the Scotch Limey, the idea was that this certifiable fuckin lunatic with voices in his head and hands up his ass who burnt all the fuckin' money should be put in charge of the entire sorry-assed, pussy-whipped country, without so much as an election, but just a promise that the fistin' screwball was gonna pay even closer attention to the spirit messages he received from his late old man, some kind of a Reservation Jehovah's fuckin' Witness, had his own church and everything. And that's just exactly what happened.

Anybody says, Hold on a Goddamn fucking minute, why are you burning all the money and giving the gold away and Assman just says some shit about right long-term decisions for hard-working Limey families and Bob's yer fuckin' uncle. And, my fellow motherfuckers, it is this loser's handling of the Limey money -Prudently Burning all the fuckin' Money and giving away all the gold down there in PoundLand - that caused this whole fuck-up in the subprime market here at home in the US. Messages from the fuckin' dead. That and selling Limeyland into a Communist Federation with a load of fucking European thieves, faggots, cocksuckers and opera-loving, shit-eating motherfuckers.


The whole place is fucked. Limeyland, birthpace of the Pilgrim Fathers, fucked by sodomitin' Scotch lunatics.

The Gay Truckers Association is blockading Assman right there in Buckingham House, even now, those faggots got blood in their eyes and fried egg down their vests, want free gas and all those toilets put back in the highway laybys, is what they want. The Limey Congressmen're makin' it legal for themselves to rob the store until it's fuckin' empty. Back up on the reservation his own tribesmen hate his sorry fisted guts and he daren't even go back there without a full regiment of secret service to protect his ass. Got a dwarf in charge up there, on the reservation, keeps his old lady's corpse in the attic an' drinks his own piss. The communist labour unions won't give him another nickel. The Limey cops hate him, the teachers hate him , the nurses hate him, nothing works, the economy's fucked, the weather's fucked, the roads are fucked, you can't go in a Limey hospital without catching some Goddamned filthy disease because the thieving bastard Limey doctors are all too far up their own asses to wash their fuckin' hands, the schools are fucked, the little bastards running arund stabbing each other; come Fall and all the old Limeys're set to freeze to fucking death, or starve or both, if the little bastards don't get 'em first. The police'll plug ya fulla holes soon as fucking look at you; they got cameras in everybody's fucking house, they can just hoist ya off the street and toss yer ass in the slammer and everything you care to mention is shit. If what they're doin' is against the law they just go right ahead and make up some new laws, just like that, Y'all can go and kiss my ass, Mr Voter, that's what them Limey cocksuckng Congressmen say. Assman couldn't win a fucking election in his own front room if he was the only candidate. The Leader of the Limey Republicans is a two-faced, two-bit card-sharping shit-fer-brains Momma's boy; Archbishop Canterburg, the Limey Pope, is a fucking nutcase, couldn't find the hole in his own ass, next King of LimeyLand thinks he's a fucking sanitary towel, most of the Limey Congress is under investigation for fraud, Limey currency soon won't be worth no more'n a Zimbabwe dollar, and the whole shithole is under fuckin' water most of the time.

Snotman's up to his neck in shit and every five fuckin' minutes seems like a turd as big as USS New Jersey comes steaming over the horizon. Just as well they only got a few payclerks and gravediggers hiding in the airport, out there in Eyerack. Wouldn't want the crazy fag Limey cocksucking premier giving orders to proper military.

Talkin' a which, mah fellow motherfuckers, here is my solemn promise to y'all - I find any man in my army sticking his dick up another soldiers's asshole an I'll shoot 'em both, right here on the White House lawn. Ain't fuckin' natural. No more'n that lesbian tennis they're all watching over there in Winbletown. Those dykes come in here, gruntin' and sweatin' and carpet-munchin' all over my West Wing an' I'll fuckin' shoot them, too. Take 'em right out on the White House lawn, blow their fuckin' heads off. Got m'gun, right here in my pants, right next my catheter.

You know, best part of a hundred years we been fightng the Limey's wars for 'em, equipping their pansy army so's the faggot generals and admirals and all them other Ruperts can all mince about in gold fucking braid and fancy pants writin' poetry and gettin' spanked by their Goddamned batmen and what have they done in return? Invented communism and ass-fistin, that's what. Invented right there in London, both of 'em was. Seen it with mah own eyes. London England is now run by a womanising Greek sonofabitch surrounds himself with crooked clergymen and Goddamned perverts just like the last motherfucker, the one who talks through his fucking nose, the one with the frogs and more wives'n'children than a fucking heathenbastard Mormon.

Time we sent the Seventh cavalry over there and rescue them decent Limey folks, while there still is a Limeyland, punish these fuckin' money-burnin' savages and put 'em all back on the reservation they come offa. Gonna lead the regiment mahself. Got m'gun, right here in my pants, next my catheter......She wore, she wore, she wore a yellow ribbon........

It's been real fine talking to you, mah fellow motherfuckers.

Rally round the flag, y'all, only not that blue communist one with the yellow faggot stars.


July 4, 2008 1:48 PM

9 comments:

The Dyer's Garden said...

It ought to be surprising a man actuarially highly unlikely to have survived his first term should even have been allowed to run. But then we have a PM whose brain scan probably looks like swiss cheese.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, but such fun he might have been, Mr TDG, and if he'd croaked we would have had Eskimo Nell as PROTUS, just imagine that, an Alaskan redneck feminist, barbecuing seals on the White House lawn, panning the Potomac for gold.

Anonymous said...

, nothing works, the economy's fucked, the weather's fucked, the roads are fucked, you can't go in a Limey hospital without catching some Goddamned filthy disease because the thieving bastard Limey doctors are all too far up their own asses to wash their fuckin' hands, the schools are fucked, the little bastards running arund stabbing each other; come Fall and all the old Limeys're set to freeze to fucking death, or starve or both, if the little bastards don't get 'em first. The police'll plug ya fulla holes soon as fucking look at you; they got cameras in everybody's fucking house, they can just hoist ya off the street and toss yer ass in the slammer"
But apart from that its OK then?

The Dyer's Garden said...

She might still make it, next time, and a delight it will be too, though by then she might need more than lipstick to differentiate her from a dog.

mongoose said...

Mr Ishmael,

The truth is that almost all American politicians are stark-staring bonkers and I like it like that. The first political event that I can remember was Nixon's Watergate resignation.

I digress... It was announced on the radio while we were in a school minibus on the way to spend a frigid week in the Brecon Beacons. (Jesus Christ! "Anyone for a (naked) swim across a glacial tarn?" "2,000ft up in the freezing Welsh sky, Sir? Me, Sir? No, thank-you, Sir." Me tackle is still cold. Schoolmasters, eh? What larks, Mr Chips, old chap.) BTW schoolboy titter anyone? "What's this mountain called, Sir?"

... anyway, and it came on the radio. "The people have to know whether their President is a crook or not." Well, quite so, Dicky-me-old-lad. Then we had the peanut man who kept falling over. (Did I forget Ford? Yes, and there's your answer.) And then Mr Astrologer - TWICE!! They elected the loon twice. You cannot make it up.

And Clinton - fingering the big, red, Armageddon button while some slobbering harlot is on her knees under the desk. It was fabulous entertainment and not just for him. "I did not have sex with that woman, err, Miss Lewinski." And I should bloody well hope not - not with yer eyes open anyway.

Palin would have been just a wonderful president. Laugh, I'd have gone to heaven. Let us hope that it all goes tits up for Obama and we can have us some fun. It won't be the kiddies' dog or the Clinton cat, she'll have a freakin' bear roaming the place.

Bring it on.

call me ishmael said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
call me ishmael said...

Blogger call me ishmael said...

The Dickster, yes, he wasn't quite a presbyterian but same sort of thing; I have all the books, Liddy, Dean, Woodward and Bernstein and more that I can't be arsed to go and look at. Pray for me

Swiss Bob said...

"Limey Mexico".

That's a keeper.

call me ishmael said...

Yes, Limey Mexico, Codger McCain was a beauty, much missed.