SECOND POST – DECEMBER 31, 2012 – EVER THE MEANIE, SYRPER CONDEMNS TO DEATH SYRIA’S CAPTAIN KANGAROO INTER ALIA
From Istanbul, four days ago, George Kangaroo Sabra announced that he was going to join the ranks of other great arms smugglers and send weapons to the Islamist Jihadist Terrorist afflicting the country he is so desperate to liberate. My! My! Ranting and raving at mirrors in clothing stores at the Istanbul International Airport, George raised his fists as he boarded his “Economy Class” Turkish Airliner back to Paris where he planned to begin his rise in the world of mass murder and sociopathic blundering.
“You stop calling me Captain Kangaroo!”, he warns Steven Colbert from Paris. “And my name is Sabra, not Zabra”.
Trained in producing television shows for pre-adolescents, Sabra was ideally suited to conduct major military operations involving retarded freaks from the Islamic World. He has the distinction today of being shunned by the U.S., hated by every Syrian Christian, despised by the French who want his apartment rent paid, ignored by Salafist killer apes in Syria who want to behead him as a “kafir” and otherwise overlooked by the same Western media outlets which still favor Danny the Syrian. Go to Hell, Sabra. Go to Blazes, Captain Kangaroo. Have a really wretched 2013.
SAUDI ARABIAN ZOMBIES WALK THE EARTH: It’s pointless to wish death upon the “royal” apes of Arabia. They are already dead. King Abdallah the “Illiterate” is reportedly noctambulating with his quarter-nephew, the bungling, mumbling, stumbling, muttering, stuttering, fluttering, crumbling, Elmer Fudd clone, “Prince” Saud Al-Faysal. Completing the moribund trio is none other than the vaporized soul of “Prince” Bandar Bin Sultan. The blue-jean wearing, Mr. Cool of scorching Arabia, dazzled the crowd with his pure WOG style in the D.C. Beltway. Saud Al-Faisal was reported dead some months ago but he quickly debunked the death-wishing communiques by appearing on “Wahhabi Sermonette” and uttering: “Th…th….th….th….th..That’s all folks!”
The “king” seen here responding to his neurologist’s request to “open your hands, you filthy little nignog!”
In this famous scene, photographed by Ansel Adams, Prince Faisal is sent back to quarantine at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport after two Homeland Security German shepherds identified him as a “leprosy-carrying muskrat”. He was released later into the custody of the Atlanta-based Center for Disease Control and sent back to Arabia after receiving three rabies shots.
WILL YOU JUST DIE, JOHN MCCAIN? AN ALZHEIMER’S NIGHTMARE:
He endures, bloviates, snarls, defies, and in every way, conducts himself like the “Maverick” he symbolizes:
But when all is said and done, he’s really ready, like an aged maverick, to be given that Soylent Green
“He’s embattled. He’s beleaguered. He’s surrounded. He’s circumnavigated. He’s circumambulated. He’s got one leg to stand on. He’s preparing to leave for Venezuela.” Yawn. McCain, who evidently reads and believes the National Enquirer, is notorious for demanding more slaughter…more commitment….more expenditure…from the American people. Won’t you just die?
McCain, poster boy for the American Dementia Precox Association, is determined to advance the cause of democracy by arming Al-Qaeda. We’re not joking. Any reading of this dork’s statements cannot but convince you he is ready for that elegant smoking jacket with the really long sleeves. With his soon-to-be-retired Zionist legislator, religious fanatic, Macumba warrior, Joe Lieberman, he has demanded exactly that. We only hope that he and Lieberman are the two lone passengers on that one lone pilotless plane which gets the first taste of an American manufactured anti-aircraft missile.
Speculation abounds that a Syrian Golden Hamster was implanted in Lieberman’s brain during his last haircut. The resemblance to Alfred E. Newman is astounding.
In pace requiescat.
NOBODY IS GOING TO MOURN THE DEATH OF ANOTHER SUPERCILIOUS FRENCHMAN
In fact, there will be jubilation when this repugnant little turd goes down the bidet. Our hands are on the lever. Just say the words: “Marchons! Marchons!” and we’ll flush you down to Marseilles and into that sewer you’ve made of our beloved Mediterranean.
Laurent Fabius, French Foreign Matter, is interviewed with FSA psycho, Riad Al-As’ad, on the planet Zontar. Monsieur Fabius is in a fugue state after eating too many Turkish truffles.
Colonel Al-As’ad, seen here confabulating with Fabius on Zontar.
Of all the deluded, self-important, confoundingly obdurate, mind-bendingly insipid Frenchmen of history and literature, this one must stand right down below there with General Raoul Salan, Inspector Javert, Maximilien Robespierre and none other than that exclusively French pervert, Marquis De Sade. Fabius is excited by the idea of a reconstituted French empire complete with obsequious colonials, rejuvescent vineyards and olive-skinned coquettes. If he’s lucky, during his next trip to Syria, he might escape with his skin.
He is a co-conspirator with Francois Hollande in murdering innocent Syrians. We will pay Mr. Fabius back. His spies in Lebanon will be discovered and dispatched. He can save us all this trouble by taking a dose of arsenic now. We will canonize him and deposit as much urine on his coffin as will sink his coffin into the catacombs of Erebus.