After running the most piss-poor campaign ever with the most godawful candidate ever and saddling us with a fascist real-estate huckster, what do the Democrats and Liberal America respond with? A suggestion that we wear safety pins as a sign of “resistance” and solidarity with the Muslims who will be persecuted and the immigrants about to be deported en masse. That’s it. That’s all they’ve got for us.

So, it’s looking like the safety pin is about to replace the AIDS Awareness Ribbon as the go-to empty gesture for milquetoast Liberals and Hollywood asshats.

I’m serious. Just you wait. I’ll lay you better than even money that on Oscar Night next year, the red carpet will be infested with showbiz doorknobs wearing 24k gold safety pins on their tuxedoes and gowns.

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Remember back in school, when the class bully would dump your books, shove you into your locker and try to shake you down for your lunch money, and you’d say “hey, c’mon, quit it!”, and the bully would get up in your face and sneer “make me”? Well, that’s the mental image I get when I hear Pwogwessives and Liberals talking about what they need to do to get Obama to honor his promises and implement more progressive policies, and they say that they need to “hold his feet to the fire” and “make him do it”.

Trouble is, they had their chance to put pressure on Obama and the Donkeycrats, but once again, they pissed it away — in the recent so-called election, when they could’ve organized a boycott, withholding their support and sending a message to the Donkeycrats in the only language they understand: defeat at the polls.

Instead, the Pwogs and Liberals spent four years pissing and moaning about how Obama went back on all his promises and pretty much continued all of Bush’s policies of warmongering, imperialism and attacks on civil liberties — and then turned right around and voted for him again. Christ, that’s got to be the most retarded thing I’ve ever heard of — real, honest-to-God short-bus-riding, helmet-wearing-in-class, drooling-in-your-lap deep-down retarded.

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At Chris Floyd’s Empire Burlesque: Napalm in the Morning (Drones in the Afternoon): The Smell of Victory Stirs Progressives to Action

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The continuing adventures of The Forty-Seven Percent.

My follow-up to last week’s anatomical chart.
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