Either the big guns will get you or I'll load up the trike with Talibanfan and pay you a visit.
Friday, 8 July 2011
A bankster’s japseye view of us.
Have a good laugh at the banksters. Go on. Chuckle like you’ve never chuckled before at the vile servile. Guffaw as one of their handmaidens, serial, maid and maiden assaulters gets laid on the alter. Laugh your heads off. Split your sides at the thought of their stoneage belief system and laughbarph at the inbred mutants, products of the satanic vial, test tube golem that staff their institutions of death dealing, dearth, fiat phekkwittery. Knock yourselves out as you gaze at the dolly farm bred collection of weird fauna that stuff everyone alive and defecate all over our environment. Belly ache your way through the ignominious roll call of the Nobel perps.
For it will be the last laugh you will have.
Frankenstein banksters don’t do humour, they just take a piss.
Skanksterbankstergangsters hate us. Thery hate us with every fibre of their rotting corpses.
How dare we point at them and laugh at their absurdity. You can be sure that there is a collection from their zoological garden’s chimera about to be given a great big iGREEN light to kill off the weeds. Kill us who chortle.
No matter how many scheduled scandals are washed over us, no matter how many golden showers of D noticed freed trivia are splashed into our eyes. No matter how many dead children are known about but not for our ken. No matter how much the MSM tricks and treats its way through Halloween’s graveyards of missing weans every day.
Never forget that these fractional, fictional reserved fools are wholly responsible for all the worlds ills.