Rohypnol and panties

another great piece by the Drifter-In-Chief on the preznit's 75%/mideast-oil/2025 malarky:

"This is more headshakingly amazing than anything I’ve read in a week. Not shocking. Sadly, not surprising. Just…perfect, in its own small, malignant way.

[snip]

But 75% is a very goddamned specific target, and 2025 is a very goddamned specific year. Each as clear and unambiguous as, say, the Moon, and "the end of this decade" .

When Kennedy set the space program in motion, he didn't mean "well, y'know, someday" or, "Well, maybe not the Moon exactly, but, y'know, everybody knows where the Moon is. And what the President really meant was that we're just shooting for that kinda general area..."

[snip]

But now, not 24 hours after Dear Leader Speaks Hour is over, he’s busted slipping the Truth a double-shot of Rohypnol and trying to rip her panties off while she’s passed out.

The State of the Union is the single most prepped-for event in the Presidential calendar. Like your wedding, if you had an unlimited budget, God’s own Rolodex, the full resources of the most powerful government on Earth to draw upon, and hot-and-cold running wordsmiths raking every syllable to perfection like a zen garden.

This was not just another shot-from-the-hip baloney-missile that is daily casually fired over the heads of the press corps by the likes of Scott McClellan, or Big Dick or even Dubya; this was the Presidential Cirque du Soleil, where every moment and pause has been researched and practiced and tested -- and then done all over again – because they know that a thousand cameras and a billion eyes will be watching.

And they lied.

Just stood up and fucking lied.

Again.

And had to retracted it.

Again.

And told us all it was no big deal.

Again.

Right out in front of God and everybody.

And why?

Simple.

Because they are liars, and lying is what liars do. It’s not a whole lot more complicated than that."