Thursday, 9 August 2012

Always Assert, Never Deny

Barry Soetoto before his fundamental transformation
doing his best Frank Sinatra

It is axiomatic for marxists and socialists of all stripes.    "Always assert.  Never deny".  Therefore, we shall watch the  "Romney killed my wife" advertisement, the details will be sorted out, the advertisement will be shown to be not only devoid of fact but an outright lie, but there will be no remorse or admission or apology.   The Obama people will reconstruct and continue to foist the mendacity upon the public.

   "It doesn't matter that Romney was gone from the scene by that time the man lost his job, or that the wife died long after Romney was gone.   None of that matters.   It  does not matter if the union worker was offered a buy-out and refused it.   It doesn't matter if the union worker's wife was working long after the plant was shut down, and that she had insurance, and that none of this has anything to do with Romney.   It just doesn't matter!   It is still proof that people like R0mney have no concern for the little people.   People like Romney do not understand the average American's problems or care about them." 

And!    It doesn't matter whether the charges are true or not.   What matters is the seriousness of the charges.   Can't you people understand?
And!   On top of that.....Remember that Romney never paid any income tax for 10 years.   Everybody knows it.   The Bain Company guy told Harry Reid, man.  That's gotta   say something to you.
And!   Romney was a notorious bully, 50 years ago, everybody already knew all about those episodes.   Mennonites all have that "rowdy period" when the teenagers are allowed to run wild.   Romney took advantage of that and then they covered it up.  Everybody knows about it and that's why they have to keep it secret.
And!    Do you think that anyone who would tie a dog to the roof of a car and drive 1,000 miles just to let his kids get their kicks out of watching a dog suffer would give a flip about you or your family.   It's the way rich people are.  Didn't you ever read anything by F. Scott Fitzgerald?   Don't you know anything about Gatsby?
And!    If Mrs. Romney had to choose between her horse or your kid drowning in the swimming pool....who do you know she would choose?   Huh?  Huh?  These people belong to a sacrificial cult, man.  The Amish are a sacrificial polygamist cult.   They eat babies, man.  That's why they have to have so many wives, man.   Sheeesh!  Can't you understand anything?
And!   If you have any problem with anything I said here, you took my statements out of context.   And I'm not taking any of it back.  And I never said it.


This is how Miss Flukie, Pelosi, Wasserman, Biden, Reid, and Co. think.    There is no cure.  They are terminally deranged.    It is a prerequisite to being a socialist.   All socialists are deranged.   National socialists, Bolshevik socialists, Trotskyite socialists, Maoists, Sendero Luminoso, every little factional Committee for the Liberation of Dumpovia, Hugo, Fidel, ad infinitum.    All deranged.  It is required.

     Let us remember that this entire "Romney killed my wife" tactic is an echo of Barry Soetoto telling the world in his "Dreams of My Father" book that Barry's poor mother died because the insurance company would not give her coverage because her problem was part of a continuing or pre-existing condition.   It was a lie.   It was a damned lie.

     Barry's entire life since Occidental has been a scripted, Manchurian candidate lie.   It is so big that we cannot see it as country.   It is so insidious that reasonable people cannot believe it.   See it.    Believe it.   We have our own personal Hugo Chavez.   Everything Barry says and does is like that exercise actors do when they face each other and mirror each other's movements.   Barry and Hugo.   Barry and Nicolai.   Barry and Maxmilien Robespierre.

Maxmilien Robespierre.
Jacobin leader of the French Revolution

A true brother-in-arms to Barry, pictured above.
Thanks for your continued attention and willingness to dilute the ire of an old man.
El Gringo Viejo