And his name is Will Quick. When Will is in full vitriolic flight, it is a thing of wonder to behold. If, like me, you enjoy savouring the savage directness possible with the English language, then read Will’s latest spleen venting invective regarding all manner of folk that grievously irk his anti-idiotarian sensibilities:
Where a pack of stupid, venal whores whose tarnished Olympian wares are for sale to the highest bidder in the lowest bidet can profess distaste for a minor show of honest patriotism, though if somebody had thought to keep them supplied with sufficient hot and cold running hookers, they’d have no doubt been out waving American flags themselves.
These are disconnects so blindingly obvious you’d think they’d be pointed out in every major media outlet in the United States. But they aren’t. Which means somebody else has to do it. That would be us. That’s what we’re good for. Pointing things out.
With a chainsaw.
It’s a dirty job, but someone has to do it. Read the whole article and then go put some fuel in the motor of your chainsaw.
