Bad Commie!

helping commies get to know knives

My favorite stabbings:
God, Mother Earth, W, Prayer, Poetry, Uptight Nervous Canadian Frostbacks, Debating,
Self Stabbing, Ann Coulter, The Ketchup Prince, Gay Marriage, Fantasy

Wednesday, July 21, 2004
My attempt to EZ-Bake some Jews in the last episode didn't really work. The oven only seems to toast and the Jews got a nice suntan. F-ing jew machinery. Last time I try to bake some Jew Pie. 

On the other hand, fully half the commies stabbed in the last stablog stayed down!

Here are some cool stories to cheer you up!

From worldnetdaily:

MONDAY, JULY 12, 2004

Texas cop exposes truth of America's border security

I have been employed as a police officer, a town marshal (yes, Texas still has a few), and a deputy sheriff. All this within seven years. I do not have to worry about speaking out and getting fired anymore – I am pretty much blackballed from the profession.

On [Joseph Farah's radio] show, I have heard uninformed people state that the police did nothing about this or that illegal alien problem. I cannot speak for the rest of the world, but here in Texas, you can't touch them. You cannot even ask them for a green card. You cannot even question them about their citizenship ... or your job will be in grave jeopardy. There are subtle ways to work around it, but you have to tip toe, and be real careful, or a lawyer will have you crucified, and your department will run like hell.

These "undocumented workers" are a protected more than the horned toad. Let me tell you how this works, especially in rural Texas. These people work for nothing. So your farmers, feed yards, construction companies, and the like want them for labor purposes. These people are the pillars of the community that control the local government. They are the county commissioners, city councilmen, mayors, etc. They want them employed during the day, and disappear when the work day is done.

The common people in the town have to deal with the aftermath, and so do the police. They go to the country club and complain about "those damn Mexicans" when they engage in the culture they bring with them, but want them at work bright and early. Arrest the wrong one who needs to be at work and not in jail, and his employer makes a phone call. Bad things come down on you for arresting this poor immigrant, you're labeled a racist (by the person who the night before called them a "damn Mexican"), and the poor immigrant is released from jail to go back to work.

You are now in the hot seat. Put the police administrator in this position too many times, and you are going to lose your job for something petty.

This, of course, does not take into account the "diversity" that is now so very important in the modern day department. Nowadays, you are more than likely not going to get a cop job in the first place if you do not speak the language of our invaders. Departments are leaning heavy to the proper ethnicity of police applicants, to better serve the "immigrant."

Ironically, even though it is not proper to say, more bad things happen because of the close-knit Hispanic community. For example, you hire a Hispanic officer or dispatcher. They have intimate knowledge of the upcoming arrival of the Border Patrol. You can guarantee that when they arrive, there will not be an "immigrant" to be found.

You can lay money on the fact that if you are going to run a search warrant, arrest warrant, or just pay a visit to the local Hispanic community, they will be warned. If your insider does not inform them, you can bet the administrator will make sure his butt is covered so that the people who control his future are well informed and can take appropriate measures.

Furthermore, we have the all important "cultural sensitivity" training we must endure. Agree with it or not, if you misbehave in class, you don't get the mandatory credit for the training. Therefore, you lose your license, and you have no job. In these classes, we are told we must take into consideration the "culture" of the immigrant we are dealing with.

[For example], it may be permissible for a man to beat his wife and have sexual relations with his daughters in the country of his origin. We need to be sensitive to this, and heavily consider this when it comes time to press charges. We might want to consider ourselves a racist if we proceed without checking to see if this was acceptable in his "culture," say in Mexico. And then, of course, you must deal with the aftermath of picking on the Mexican people, from those within your department, who are Mexican first, American when it is convenient.

Can you see how this dominoes? You get to the point where you could witness a Hispanic or black male walking down the street buck naked with a chainsaw in one hand and a severed head in the other, and you fail to see it. You get a sudden urge for donuts on the other side of town. You do not mean to be this way, it just builds on you.

Not one peace officer, that I have ever met, intends to be the way he is after a few years on the street. You just get trapped. You start out wanting to rescue lost children, and save the world from the evils of humanity, and before long, you just don't give a crap. This is when it happens. You either find away to become corrupt, subvert your own beliefs and integrity (and the printed law for that matter), or you just say "screw it, people are not worth it," and walk away.

Being a peace officer is a calling. I brought home $875.50 a month my first job as a peace officer. This was in 1995! If I chose to have medical insurance for my wife, it would have cost me $435 a month. I could not afford to insure my wife. She had to put her education on hold because we could not afford it. We could not afford a car. She walked to work for me, so I could answer my calling.

But if I arrested a Mexican "immigrant" for a blatant crime committed, I had to worry about how to pay for a lawyer if I arrested the wrong one, at the wrong time. I wish I had been given a different calling. The seven years I spent trying to serve and protect people was a waste. Get the picture?

Oh, by the way, My job as a deputy sheriff [was] on duty with no backup, in a county of 900 square miles, with about 8,000 citizens to serve, no city police, and about 40 percent Hispanic, I earned about $1,123 a month. No health insurance for my family.

I eventually said "screw it, people are not worth it."

I am now employed by the U.S. government. One of the first things I was instructed on at my present job, is to be "sensitive" in what I say. I was informed that a guard was recently fired for saying "blackbird."

This guard was sent to an alarm. When he arrived at the building where the alarm was tripped, he found that a blackbird was the culprit. So he notified dispatch that all was secure, a blackbird had tripped the alarm and he had removed it from the area. A complaint was filed by a person of color [claiming] he made a racist statement. It was found that he had "made a racist statement," and was fired.

The upside is that I make five times what I made as a peace officer, my family is covered by health care, I have a retirement system in place, and I am not required to do a damn thing. My job is to remember to breathe while I am on duty. I am now able to feed, clothe and house my family, and do not have to do a damn thing for it.

This makes it very easy to not give a damn if I can't say "blackbird," or acknowledge the fact that certain minority groups are destroying my city, county, state and country. This is why we do not deserve the country, and freedom we have been given.

David Watson

From the comments on some blog, I forgot where:

Rob -

My long departed grandparents had a dozen pear trees out back between their house and the barn where my granddaddy had moved around the outhouse for about 75 years (maybe more)... just another example of the crafty Scot row crop farmer capturing as much of farm life as he could. Waste not the waste... that was my grandfather's idea of a joke. He never liked doing his business in the house although he put indoor plumbing in to satisfy my grandmother. Anyhow... every summer the bannana spiders would spring up and weave fantastic webs from tree to tree.

The spiders themselves were wonderful. Some of them got as big as my hand, bright yellow and red and green creatures who could leap from pear tree to pear tree and scare the girls. Me too, occasionally.

One fall I noticed that one of the bigger examples was making a little cubby for himself near one of the calf pens that was both in the full sun and backed up against the hay barn: a spider survival strategy! A way to hide from the frost.

That spider lived through an admittedly mild winter and emerged the next spring twice the size of a man's hand and a banana spider to be reckoned with. My grandmother said that they would bite and that I shouldn't get near the pear trees, but I dearly loved to get at those crunchy sweeties.

I saw that spinder catch a small bird in his web one afternoon, wrapping the bird up round and round and round. Amazing. Fighting the thing like he meant business.

The spider outgrew his hidey hole by the end of that summer and was left to face the first frost alone. He didn't survive the wet fall that brought winter in the next October.

Damned the things that you'll remember. Where did that come from? I still have the old house. I've always been afraid that my grandparents might come up out of the ground if I ever actually pretended to sell the old place.

The pear trees are still there but they haven't been pruned in so long that there isn't much fruit. Maybe I'll go prune the things this fall and see if I can bring them back. There's proof that I'm getting too old to boogie. I miss the spiders too.



Eleven thousand soldiers
lay beneath the dirt and stone,
all buried on a distant land
so far away from home.
For just a strip of dismal beach
they paid a hero's price,
to save a foreign nation
they all made the sacrifice.
And now the shores of Normandy
are lined with blocks of white:
Americans who didn't turn
from someone else's plight.
Eleven thousand reasons
for the French to take our side,
but in the moment of our need,
they chose to run and hide.
Chirac said every war means loss,
perhaps for France that's true,
for they've lost every battle
since the days of Waterloo.
Without a soldier worth a damn
to be found within the region,
the French became the only land
to need a Foreign Legion.
You French all say we're arrogant.
Well hell, we've earned the right--
We saved your sorry nation
when you lacked the guts to fight.
But now you've made a big mistake,
and one that you'll regret;
you took sides with our enemies,
and that we won't forget.
It wasn't just our citizens
you spit on when you turned,
but every one of yours
who fell the day the towers burned.
You spit upon our soldiers,
on our pilots and Marines,
and now you'll get a little sense
of just what payback means.
So keep your Paris fashions
and your wine and your champagne,
and find some other market
that will buy your aeroplanes.
And try to find somebody else
to wear your French cologne,
for you're about to find out
what it means to stand alone.
You see, you need us far more
than we ever needed you.
America has better friends
who know how to be true.
I'd rather stand with warriors
who have the will and might,
than huddle in the dark
with those whose only flag is white.
I'll take the Brits, the Aussies,
the Israelis and the rest,
for when it comes to valor
we have seen that they're the best.
We'll count on one another
as we face a moment dire,
while you sit on the sideline
with a sign, "friendship for hire."
We'll win this war without you
and we'll total up the cost,
and take it from your foreign aid,
and then you'll feel the loss.
And when your nation starts to fall,
well Frenchie, you can spare us,
just call the Germans for a hand,
they know the way to Paris.
Don Fichthorn, Major USMC (Retired)
Is this ketchup safe to eat?

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