OF ASSHOLES (and you know who you are, ::coughglenbeckcough::) telling me that I get the government I deserve.

Get this: fuck that.

I write here. I scream at my representatives. (I got a snippy note from Jean Schmidt’s listserve the other day, I’m so up in her grille.) I vote. I put my money where my mouth is. Don’t tell my wife.

She knows.

What? Did you rat me out?

Hardly. She saw the American Rifleman in the mail.

Oh. Right. ANY waaaayyy.

I don’t door-to-door because, well, look at me. Would you open the door if I knocked on it?

So don’t tell ME I deserve this statist clusterfuck. You can fold that so it’s all corners and stick it where the sun don’t shine.

Ain’t got one.

What? Of course you do. Everybody does.

Nope. Sunbathe nude. Sun shines on every square inch of my glorious naked body.


Point taken.

At, I should add, considerable risk to my fair skin. The sacrifices I make for beauty.

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