Wednesday, November 10, 2004


I Can Smell Him From Here

Arafat, the left's celebrity murderous bastard terrorist, has got be worm food by now. I can smell him from here!

He's probably been dead for a week. By now the damn flies are on their 3rd generation. Yet we're still fed several different versions of his demise. From death to conversations with Chirac to a brain hemorrhage to AIDS. (AIDS? So it'll be 72 virgin boys?) The one thing everyone knows he couldn't be dying from is the number one killer of French seniors, heat stroke, as it's always pretty chilly in Paris in November.

John Kerry is blown away at the masterful way Yasser's boys have been able to flip-flop between life and death. ("If only I'd thought of that I'd be President on the wings of the sympathy constituency! It beat Ashcroft once.") Another point for John to admire... Yasser's wife, Suha, is evidently prone to bursts of Tourette's syndrome just like Tereaza Kerry-Hienz. Man, she's tough when the account numbers are under assault. She's no wall flower, for sure, and would never qualify as a martyr's reward in heaven, but an estimated $3 B B B Billion net worth makes her a hot prospect for the Jr. Senator from Mass. And a bonus!, she lives in France! "Au revoir, mon cheri, Tereaza! I'm movin' on up."

I'm still holding the champagne until I see mourning in the the streets of Ramallah, a distraught Jacques Chirac, and the bottom lip of Slick Willy gettin' a good bite as he feels Palestine's pain. -Wb

Parrot-head is dead!
Here's a suggestion, a joke that will really piss off certain hypocrites: Each time someone starts talking about how "great" Arafat was, immediately start singing and disco-dancing:


Not that there's anything wrong with THAT. Honestly.
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