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After a weekend of drag racing my SUV, I pour the used oil in the lake. I lock my doors to deprive burglars of their rights under the Umpteenth Amendment. I buy CFLs and break them in the local schoolyard.

My militia is now OK with the Justice Dept. since we merged with MS-13 and ACORN. I use pages of the Koran to wrap tamales and dolma, so that Muslims will be mad at Mexicans and Greeks instead.

I encourage young people to become even stupider by getting liberal arts degrees. I hunt down transsexual dolphins with one of my many bazookas.

And in keeping with the air of fake bi-partisanship in DC, I qualify for a White House staff position since I owe the IRS $294,647, which I have no intention to pay.

Since my skin is suspiciosly pale, I can't see how this new show could do any better than adding Harry Bergeron.

Cluebat from Exodar

Join the American Revivalist Party.

Lots for sale in the Tennessee foothills.

When the (pick one: zombie, mutant, feral) hordes attack in the Post Obama Apocalypse(POA), don't be caught offguard and needlessly resort to cannibalism or human organ sales to the chinese market. Join our group of patriots at Camp Freedom.

Your security is assured with amenities such as- electric generation off the grid(thanks to our natural gas field), nearby fully stocked fishing lake(water levels are expected to stabilize after TVA collapses), ham radio station, and modern armoury.

Successful applicants are expected to provide their own basic starting set. Including 26 weeks of dried rations, 10 ounces of gold(coin or bullion only, bling is not acceptable), 100 ounces of Sterling or 150 ounces of coin silver, and one complete hunting/fishing kit and reloading set(obtainable in the main compound barter pavilion).

Prices start at $150,000 for a rustic poplar cabin on a one acre picturesque wooded lot.

Act now before the treasuries printing spree.

Hyperinflation adjustments will apply.

Contact Honest John McQuiggans

Gregory Cox

I'm a retired actor, published writer, and property developer.

Formerly an activist of the radical Left; survivor of the '60's benign fantasy-gone-bad, Haight Ashbury, Grateful Dead, Jefferson Airplane, counterculture San Francisco enlightenment, crypto-communist, acid, grass, meth, smack horror show; whose politics are being replayed today. The faces have changed but their goals haven't.

Actually, some faces haven't changed. Thank you Saul Alinsky, Bill Ayers, and Bernadine Dorn. Who'd have thought we would still have them around, like a shingles virus that hides in the recesses of the body?

We stand at the apex of world history, the focal point of millennial forces, the brink of exposure to the ultimate truths, and the profound collectivist lies.


I'm a sophisticated flame retardent papier-mache protest puppet creator, with studios in Wien and Kyoto. My latest creation, a 23ft Freddy Hayek dressed in chaps and a ten gallon hat, recently underwent extensive testing in Greece--overcoming countless Molotov cocktail strikes and beat back a three on one attack by Che, Stalin and ManBearPig--59ft of opposition in total. When working in my Kyoto studio I spend my early mornings throwing eggs, excrement, and other bio-degradables at the newest boatload of hippies spending the week at my friend the zen priest's temple. This forces the hippies and new agers from the rock garden, where they believe cleaning and sweeping will lead them to enlightenment, into the safer areas within the temple, like the toilets and sump pumps, where my enlightened friend prefers to use their free labor. For my help with herding the sheep, every Friday Yamaguchi-san, brings over a few pounds of delicious whale sashimi for extensive scientific testing with sake. I look like Foucault, wear sandals, and speak numerous languages. Cognitive dissonance is my weapon of choice. I am an international right wing villain made in the good old US of A.


Tea parties are great, but there time has passed and they are a little weak, if you know what I mean. I therefore ask you all to join me in the next wave of right wing paranoid lunacy, I mean advocacy. Casting to the past for another quaint rebellious moment in our history for inspiration, I have decided to form the Whiskey Rebels. We will only vote for candidates who have more than three DUI's to their credit. No drug possessors need apply. Also, our candidates will be required to blow higher than a .10 before being allowed to speak in public, draft legislation or vote on bills before Congress. Our ideal candidate would have the gravitas and eloquence of the great Foster Brooks. Poseurs need not apply.

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