Via Atrios: disgusting sons of bitches.

Now, the right-wing pajama brigade is in full attack mode against the Pulitzer Prize awarded this week to 11 photojournalists working for the Associated Press, including our friend and Philadelphia Daily News colleague, Jim MacMillan. These are people of remarkable bravery — dodging bullets and crawling through slime on a regular basis for nothing more than the public’s ability to see war as it really is fought.

What’s the matter, don’t like looking at your pretty war, Michelle? Pictures of the dead and wounded don’t get you off anymore, Powerline? Guess what? Freedom isn’t free. You’re awfully fond of that slogan, aren’t you? Freedom isn’t free.

So why aren’t you using these photos in your “support the troops” rallies? Why aren’t you using them to remind us all what a solemn and glorified endeavor this war really is? Why do you so hate to look at the thing you profess to love?

Freedom isn’t free, you say, giving me the impression that whatever other xenophobic homophobic fundie whackjob tendencies you harbored, at least you understood that for your bravado somebody pays a price. I hope you got a receipt, because it sounds like freedom’s a little more expensive than you counted on. In fact freedom’s so fucking expensive you can’t stand to be told what market price is these days.

Freedom isn’t free, you miserable chickenshits. You cheer the war, you love the war, you love the troops, you support the troops. But to recognize their sacrifices would diminish your pleasure so you send the images away. You jackholes are the ones who are always bitching that the left “blames America first.” You’re the first to blame “the media,” to blame “bias” when things don’t look the way you saw them on the outside of the box. Why do you now blame the photographers who bring you images of the dead and wounded, of protest, conflict? Why don’t you blame the terrorists? Why don’t you go wave a little flag in the face all this carnage because certainly it’s exactly the item you put your finger next to on the menu. THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED. LOOK AT IT. Print out every single one of those photos and paper mama’s basement with them, chickenhawks. Here’s your war, in all its glory. Max your credit card out, because freedom isn’t free.

You cocksuckers, if you didn’t want to see the bill, you shouldn’t have ordered the food. Quit taking out your anger on the waiter setting the check down in front of you. Schmucks.

A.