Ayers needs to know I will get over it when I am damn well ready. And I am not. That is my freedom to do so.
I’m with you. I am not over it, not moving on, not ready to make nice, none of it.
We, the American people, will get over this, Mr. Ayers, when you and your concubine are hung upside down a la Mussolini, with nice neat round holes between your eyes and a meat fork jabbed into her stomach with a tag hanging from it that states “we have not forgotten.”
That is when we will get over it.