And Now A Word From Our Favorite Ranting Rot...

Gotta love it when the link itself get ya goin'

Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler » Blog Archive » Mayor Nagin, You Miserable Son of a Whore, Answer THIS:

"The still at large (for unknown reasons) corrupt, mass murdering fuckwit mayor of New Orleans Mogadishu who sat on his fucking hands for years refusing to divert graft money to protecting his own citizens is whining at the top of his lungs for buses to evacuate those of his citizens that he left to drown.

What buses, you callous, useless sack of stinking shit, simpering asshat?

You mean those buses, perhaps?

The buses that you just couldn’t be arsed to send to evacuate the poor people of New Orleans before the disaster that you created through your inaction happened?

Are those the buses you’re talking about, your murdering pig?

We’re sending buses across the country as fast as we possibly can to help clean up your mess and rescue the people you betrayed when you couldn’t be bothered to send the ones you already had a couple of blocks down the street before the disaster hit, yet YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO BITCH?

If you had an ounce of honor in your corrupt, incompetent body, you wouldn’t be busy blaming everybody else right now. You’d have long since written your farewell note, locked yourself in your study and blown your own brains out.

But then again, if you’d had even the most passing of familiarities with the concepts of honor and responsibility, we wouldn’t have a problem today, now would we?

You murdered every single one of those people, Nagin, and you will answer for it sooner or later, we can promise you that much.

If that asswipe doesn’t hang, justice is officially and irrevocably dead in this country, but it won’t be where he’s going once he’s dead."

Yep. If anyone can cut straight through to the heart of the matter it's the Rot. And Misha's also caught on to the fact that if Fox uprooted her from her permanent cabana by the sea in Aruba and is sending old Crook-Jaw'd Greta into the fray, then there's suffering going on to beat the band, but no real story to see here. Predictions? Three months from now and there she'll be, sitting inside the Super Dome talking to her "experts" about how any day now there's going to be a slew of guardsmen walking in with food and blankets but toilet #627 STILL isn't flushing every time and they ain't leaving until it does...

Greta isn't a news person, folks, she's where stories go to die, and once ole' CrookJaw arrives at the scene all pretense of reporting goes out the window as she flits from one bereaved mother to another prattling aimlessly with such piercing questions as "tell me what you're feeling inside, right now and if you were a house plant, would you feel well-tended, not so well tended, or is that your leaves dropping on my rug as we speak..."

In other words, a lawyer. Someone who is accustomed to sitting around doing nothing unless it's thinking of a thousand variations on the same ridiculous question.