No man is an Ireland nor Ulysses in his cave.
No woman known as Jill has gone up the hill.
Nowhere is to be found a return from the grave
beyond the dark satanic mill.

John D’eau and his beheader half Lise Daytang.

Raise the glass to the days of the inquisition, when god gave man a ticket to torture and sanctity ruled the land.

In those days the weasels of rightousness could ferret out the sins of the witches. Though the devil lurked in every crack, the hammer had the writ of the pope. The hammer came down hard.

So with your one good eye and bushel of fingers, raise the glass and pass the ammunition.

Niggers, kikes, wops and fags,
We call you with our dying breath.
Block heads, camel jockeys, fatsos, spics,
Would you be so kind as to walk our dog?
Assholes, jerks, cunts and pussies,
Come to the aid of your country.
Serial killers, suicide bombers, war criminals and torturers,
We hold your truths to be self evident,
That few man are created equal.
Not to speak of all women, for they may further the way.
The way of all cunts.
You fucking cock-suckers.

It’s all about maintaining the right tension, said the fiddler to the ventriloquest. Sometimes I’m tighter than Dick’s hatband.

This in itself might be construed as a home invasion, but is it an act of terrorism? Only the members of the Warren Buffet commission and their secret police know for sure. Court records show nothing besides the fall of the middleman who didn’t watch his back, and the rise of the average woman with a yeast infection. It’s all in the wallpaper of record. Look around yourself.