Posted on 07/30/2004 5:49:31 AM PDT by Born Conservative
Lets hope so.
"I'm Bill Clinton, and I'm reporting for booty"
Is he saluting Shitrack in that picture? I never could spell that Frenchman's name.
"I'm Gary Condit, reporting for a cutie."
"I'm Jesse Jackson, reporting for looty."
"I'm Trafficant, reporting for...er...jailtime."
Lib/dems....crooks, philaderers, and sleazeballs all....
Just damn.
If you want on the list, FReepmail me. This IS a high-volume PING list...
AAAAAAAmen.
What he really meant was: "Reporting for doodie"
I'm Sen. Kennedy, reporting for a snooty."
"I'm Gary Condit, reporting for a cutie."
"I'm Jesse Jackson, reporting for looty."
Man, that lying bastard makes me want to barf. I don't know if I can handle the next 3 months.
Let's review:
1. Kerry milked some self inflicted and minor wounds into enough purple hearts to prematurely leave Vietnam.
2. After leaving he slandered his former comrades by calling them war criminals, providing aid and comfort to the enemy and hurting the US war effort.
3. He admitted to being a war criminal himself.
4. He disavowed his service and threw away his (or someone else's) medals (a slap in the face of the military).
5. Kerry is now running for President as a "war hero" based on his Vietnam experience.
6. The DemonRat party (which hates the military) is embracing the self admitted war criminal and calls Pres Bush a deserter.
7. During previous elections the DemonRat party embraced Bill KKKlinton, a known draft dodger, liar, philanderer, etc., while rejecting as irrelevant the service of 2 legitimate war heroes.
John Kerry is reporting for duty? What a laugh.
This one is from another angle. It's even worse.
He was an officer and on the biggest night of his life can't give a well executed salute? What a LOOSER!
Will he be bringing 30,000 pounds of bananas?
He will be an even bigger LOOSER this November.
It was just after dark when the truck started down
the hill that leads into Scranton Pennsylvania.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Carrying thirty thousand pounds (hit it Big John) of bananas.
He was a young driver,
just out on his second job.
And he was carrying the next day's pasty fruits
for everyone in that coal-scarred city
where children play without despair
in backyard slag-piles and folks manage to eat each day
about thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, just about thirty thousand pounds (scream it again, John) .
He passed a sign that he should have seen,
saying "shift to low gear, a fifty dollar fine my friend."
He was thinking perhaps about the warm-breathed woman
who was waiting at the journey's end.
He started down the two mile drop,
the curving road that wound from the top of the hill.
He was pushing on through the shortening miles that ran down to the depot.
Just a few more miles to go,
then he'd go home and have her ease his long, cramped day away.
and the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes the smell of thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
He was picking speed as the city spread its twinkling lights below him.
But he paid no heed as the shivering thoughts of the nights
delights went through him.
His foot nudged the brakes to slow him down.
But the pedal floored easy without a sound.
He said "Christ!"
It was funny how he had named the only man who could save him now.
He was trapped inside a dead-end hellslide,
riding on his fear-hunched back
was every one of those yellow green
I'm telling you thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
He barely made the sweeping curve that led into the steepest grade.
And he missed the thankful passing bus at ninety miles an hour.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he said "God, make it a dream!"
as he rode his last ride down.
And he sideswiped nineteen neat parked cars,
clipped off thirteen telephone poles,
hit two houses, bruised eight trees,
and Blue-Crossed seven people.
it was then he lost his head,
not to mention an arm or two before he stopped.
And he slid for four hundred yards
along the hill that leads into Scranton, Pennsylvania.
All those thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
You know the man who told me about it on the bus,
as it went up the hill out of Scranton, Pennsylvania,
he shrugged his shoulders, he shook his head,
and he said (and this is exactly what he said)
"Boy that sure must've been something.
Just imagine thirty thousand pounds of bananas.
Yes, there were thirty thousand pounds of mashed bananas.
Of bananas. Just bananas. Thirty thousand pounds.
of Bananas. not no driver now. Just bananas!"
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.
