by Amanda Marcotte Woe, or
I Love Myself When I Am Pouncing, And Then Again When I Am Rending My Hair in the DustÂÂ
Reviewed by David Thompson
by Amanda Marcotte Woe, or
I Love Myself When I Am Pouncing, And Then Again When I Am Rending My Hair in the DustÂÂ
Reviewed by David Thompson
Sounds like Amada rapes herself with a wood saw.
Sounds like Amada rapes herself with a wood saw.
Twice? I’m feeling her multiples!
Twice? I’m feeling her multiples!
You really don’t want to go there, thor.
Have you no empathy? It’s not like we all haven’t gone down that alley once before.
I think it is all a distraction from the incongruence between Spaulding’s call to indict Limbaugh for “inciting a riot” several months in advance, and Marcotte’s previous call to “break something, set something on fire.”
Everybody missed that one.
I didn’t know Amada barked the old Woolfian “Rags, Petrol, Matches!” hymen-squeal.
Amada’s filchings are three guineas cheap. At least with Karen Finley you got to see some snatch and nips for your guineas. All Amada is doing is a Native Indian rain dance on the laps of angry sows to make ’em all wet between their thighs.
“Throw me beads, see my tits!” Sorry Amanda, Steinhiem hustled the last of my string prizes. She had purtier lips.
We really need to forward this on to Dr. Mabuse, who will surely bestow a Braxton’s Lear award on it.
Here’s my ultimate question.
Am I insane or has this country gone insane?
Inquiring minds want to kmow…
LD: Yes.
No, not the whole country, just the part that’s determined to cast itself in the Living Theater Production of Atlas Shrugged.