Ordinarily I detest blog posts that simply point to other blog posts, without adding anything of any use.
But these are not ordinary times. I'm tired, I'm deeply depressed -- the result of a three-day-long wallow in Vituperative Vindication -- and I've been screaming at my windshield all day. Such a state of mind isn't conducive to urbane observations or nuanced reasoning. And so instead I'm gonna use the magnificent Steve Gilliard as my crutch and look forward to a return to my usual equanimity after I've kicked the living shit out of the goddamned miserable motherfucking Conservo-Wank weeds that inhabit my vegetable patch and the cocksucking Neocon invaders that infest my perennial bed, choking out my zinnias and peonies. They Shall Bear the Full Brunt of My Anger.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, the barest, paper-thinnest wall prevents me from slashing the tires of the next fucking vehicle that drives into my purview.
I'll explain later.