On Monday, I will meet with a coalition of community leaders, constitutional scholars, family and civic organizations, and religious leaders. They’re Republicans, Democrats, and independents who’ve come together to support this amendment. Today, I want to explain why I support the Marriage Protection Amendment, and why I’m urging Congress to pass it and send it to the states for ratification. […]
Emphasis mine. From here.
Sigh. Do we really need to do this again. Do we really need to have this talk?
Dear Idiots Who Refer To Themselves As Democrats,
Those photographs had better be good. I’m not kidding. If I get wind that the snapshots are blurry, that you really can’t see your face next to that Hooters waitress, that the boy was over 18 after all, that you have some plausible defense like “nobody TOLD ME there would be cross-dressing and singing,” I’m gonna be really, really, really pissed at you.
Because it’s one thing, you know, to agree to appear with the president to back his Hate Speech Cliff Notes because if you don’t, everybody will know about that party where the sheep ended up on the kitchen counter licking coke off your balls. It’s one thing to maintain your registration as a member of the party that believes the Constitution is still a nice thing and then get up on stage with that garden implement and talk about how hating gays made you love America, if you’re only doing it so your fiance won’t find out it was really you in those vids on MILF.com.
I mean, I can only imagine the torment you must be going through, having to support Preznit 29 Percent and his merry band of mouthbreathing bigots as they natter on about how if marriage is extended to others, their own marriage won’t be as good. It sounds awful. The illogical hatred, the selfishness, the sense of entitlement, the fawning concern for “the children” that makes spray cheese look like a model of authenticity … The political pandering so naked even Bonny Prince Fuckwit can’t help but smirk as he throws that bit of rotting meat to his rapidly diminishing throngs of supporters … I can’t even think about it without twitching. But, you know, if it’s either sit there and smell people roasting in their own juices or be known to the world as “the dude who got a pool cue stuck inside a llama,” I suppose I can see your point.
But I swear to God, if you’re giving up all that ever might have made you a Democrat — honesty, integrity, goddamn peanut-butter-flavored human fucking decency and good old fashioned kindness — and giving cover to these slime molds because of some drug-store photo scam, some two-bit amateur-hour special where nobody can really tell if that’s you or a cardboard cut-out of Han Solo there behind the bearded-lady dominatrix, well, then I don’t know if there’s anything I can say to you other than get the fuck out of my party, and quickly now, pleasethanksgoodnight. So think, wouldja please, about how good the photos really are. Most of these paparazzi don’t know shit about composition.