"Tell me who you're with--and I'll tell you who you are."----Old Spanish proverb
This week, unless you were blissfully able to miss it, we were surrounded by a veritable plethora of lunatics cavorting on our dime in the Big Apple. Ain't the UN just the cat's nuts? Where else can you observe the most magnificent collection of piss pot banana republic dictators and morons all telling us that WE are the reason that their counties are hell holes?
"Welcome to America, please feel free to piss on the carpet. Don't worry-our president pretty much agrees with you."
My favorite despot, Mohammar Qaddafi, provided some extra special comic relief for his visit to the UN this year. He tried to pitch one of his homemade tents in Donald Trump's backyard. (The tent, by the way, looked an awful lot like the kind of contraption my brother and I used to cobble together using a card table.)
Libya must be so proud to have a retarded goat herder as its head of state.
Then there is our old pal Hugo Chavez....
Didn't he used to be with the Three Stooges? Curly, I think.
Is there a larger pocket of natural gas anywhere in our hemisphere?
Old Hugo is a piping hot talking pile of pig flop; flies swarm at the mention of his name.
It is time to take the choke chain off Israel. Bombs Away Iran!
And, while you're at it, how about lobbing some Hiroshima Hot Sauce down the chimney at the UN. I'm sure that "The Donald" is itching to put some condos on that pricey piece of real estate.
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