1115.org

The ‘em in question is “the fruit of your loins”.

Fatso is a generic term for the 11 Republicans who showed up at the White House Tuesday afternoon for the sound-bite op that became Tim Russert’s “defining pivotal moment”.

Mouth is what I decided to go with instead of referring to the orifice located halfway around the body and several feet down that Fatso was actually speaking from.

What’s got my goat is hearing one of these 11 so-called mavericks, safely insulated from the personal costs of the Iraq War by six degrees of separation, talking of “our sons and daughters spill(ing) their blood” in Iraq.

Right now this cynical bastard without a conscience is sheltering behind an anonymous quote. We’ll probably know who he is soon enough. I propose that he be sentenced to facing the truth of his words: his sons and daughters (any and all) should be shipped off to Iraq before anybody else’s are.

Doesn’t matter how old they are or what they do. They have just hereby volunteered to help our glorious war effort in Iraq in any way they can. They don’t even have to go out into Baghdad markets without armed escorts. They can be mail room clerks in a Green Zone office for all I care, or busboys in a Green Zone cafeteria. Just ship ‘em over. And let our masked fatso see how it feels to be faced with even the prospect of your sons and your daughters spilling their damn blood.