“..It’s time to hand these rulers their pink slips...”
Pink slips, Hell...hand them their asses on a platter, and throw them out face down in the gutter.
Well, that’s another way of putting it.
Tar, feathers and a rail used to work.
I told my family this summer at a reunion in Wash DC that if we were living in the times of the Romans, I would nail every one of the 535 bastards on crosses along the Appian way, and let the crows pick the flesh off their rotting carcasses. But in times present I would settle for chaining then to the curb from the Lincoln Memorial to Arlington Cementary on the hottest July day and let stray dogs cool their heads with yellow streams of merciful piss. And this latter would be a merciful act.
After those descriptors I told family that I was but a ‘moderate’ TP participant.
Kick’em out the backdoor like the scummy bums they are.