May 29, 2018 In the matter of Clapper and Brennan

May 29, 2018

In the matter of Clapper and Brennan…That they are lying sacks of eel shit plus smarmy bastards of the nth degree there can be no doubt. The only time they don’t lie is when they sleep which is a great accomplishment seeing as to how they can’t even lie straight in bed.

Thomas More said it best.

“A man upon oath holds his soul in his hands as if

were water. He opens his fingers at his own peril.”

I feel a particular animus against Brennan. We are both Irish Catholics from Hudson County, New Jersey. We both went to Catholic schools. A rump-swab ass kisser form Obama’s White House said that you shouldn’t piss off John Brennan. I can only bring half of one leg to the ass-kicking contest but I’ll kick his so hard he’ll have to take his socks down to take a crap.

Let us leave them to the quiet ravages of their consciences, assuming Uncle Screwtape hasn’t taken full possession of them.

Let us turn to a closer target.

David “Little Boss” Hogg has chosen to enter the public arena. His unshaven, chinless visage no longer gives him the cover of being a callow youth – soon to be a “man without a chest” – suffering from a plethora of pant load faux outrage, that it would have in a more innocent age.

His name, David Hogg, is always followed by nouns in apposition, “Parkland shooting survivor”, as if this is an invisible cloak of moral authority shielding him from any criticism or, heaven forefend, billingsgate.

If he is so protected – Churchill said, “There is nothing more exhilarating than to be shot at and missed.” – so am I.

June 3 next will be the 25^th anniversary of my last gun fight. June 3, 1993. Essex County Court House. Room 1104. Judge Leonard Ronco. 11:12 AM.

BOOM! BOOM!.....BOOM!

One police officer dead before he hit the ground. One with a quarter-sized hole in his sternum from a .357 magnum There was no exit wound. The bullet went up to his shoulder and settled in his right elbow. I saved his life. And 2 1/2 years later he danced at my daughter’s wedding on December 15, 1995.

I testified at the murder trial of the “alleged perpetrator”. I offered “hearsay evidence” that was allowed because it was deemed to be a “dying declaration”. The defendant was found guilty – New Jersey is not a death penalty state – and he is now eligible for parole. I guess Black Lives do matter.

Anyway, move over you little turd. There’s a new sheriff in town and he has a new policy. No prisoners!

Be further advised that I will accept no criticism predicated on argumentum ad hominem.

If Kathy Griffin, at heart a skank whore who gives skank whores a bad name, can walk around with a severed Trump head I can call this little shit head a little shit head. Res ipso loquitur and thank God for tu quoque.

I do this for several reasons.

#1 – Truth is an absolute defense against libel. David Hogg is a chinless little shit. QED.

#2 – I am looking at a biopsy report that has my name on it. The word malignant appears on it with astonishing regularity, a metronomic monotony. It gives me a high green, balls to the wall, kick over the traces, spit the bit out, “head shot” mentality.

#3 – I have asked Caroline Hanson, the second of my Texas Ladies, and forever known as my “Little Babe, to gather up and hold some of my stuff to share with, God Willing, her grandchildren. She just turned 17. “Bumps”, my inside family name, wants to be as immortal as electronic language permits.

If my grandchildren’s grandchildren can come to “know” me, why not have them know me “warts and all”?

If I don’t fight “for the ashes of my fathers and the temples of my Gods”, who will?

Sunt leones

Kevin Smith

WARRIORBARDIT@BELLSOUTH.NET