So I say to myself, “What kind of person would do this?”

One that obviously deserves what she’s gotten.

They put those things in a cage out of your reach for a reason, lady. In the style of a Girls Are Pretty post: Happy I Got My Arm Ripped Off By A Fucking Lion Because I Am A Fucking Moron Day!

Imagine the life Herb has to get up and live every day. Herb is a sticker at Surley Bros. Meats just outside of Valdosta, Georgia. See, Herb kills livestock—all day, every day—and he has killed livestock for close to seventeen years. After the first few weeks on the job he became desensitized to the gasping and muffled screeching of the animals as the lay choking on their own blood.

Every day Herb takes his breaks and lunches with Bob. Bob runs a line of machinery that processes the livestock that Herb kills. Bob’s machines rip flesh from bone—sometimes even successfully so—and Bob is okay with this. After all, someone has to feed the machines and why not Bob? Ever since Bob was a small child he’d had an affinity for all things dead. Immediately after high school he’d thought briefly about becoming a mortician or taxidermist but lacked the skill and concentration required by those vocations; shredding the flesh from the skeletons of dead animals seemed like a logical conclusion to him.

“Sometimes it’ll grab a chunk of vertebrae and pull in some spinal cord and we’ll have to try and get most of that out. You know, the FDA has standards for the amount of bone and spinal tissue we can put into our meat,” said Bob.

No, I didn’t watch the State of the Union address. I don’t like lies and when I am given the option of not having to process them I will always choose to spare myself. It doesn’t matter what your president said or didn’t say, the fact remains that his agenda has a very tight schedule that includes waging war with a country the size of California sometime in February for “about a month” and nothing is going to change that—no dissenting voice from any country considered friend or foe will dissuade that ignorant, monkey-faced, pretender to the throne from doing it.

I asked for someone to shoot me in the last post. I think I will refrain this time lest one of you pro-Bush NRA fucks come hunt me down.

Addendum: Interesting reading: The Dubya Report and The Wage Slave Journal’s George W. Bush Scorecard of Evil.