Ping!
Yepper. I wear the label proudly. I mean, here I am, 5 foot 2, 97 pounds, most often with a three year old little girl in tow, and I freely admit that at one point, before the last election, I seriously tried to cripple a larouche-supporting male moron standing in front of a United States Post Office.
Furthermore, if it had been an obama supporter who had said the same thing to me, I would have done likewise.
Sometimes, it’s the only language idiots and quislings understand.
Terror is what I feel every day I wake up and realize that we have a destructive, mentally deranged, anti-American mutant misfit holding the highest office in our land.
Knowing this, the very idea that the terrorist-in-chief and his mutant horde are terrorized by me and mine thrills me no freaking end.