01 December 2006

How to think like a liberal

UPDATE: The link to the LibTard's article is fixed. Thanks SCC! Since there is about 5 inches of snow on the ground, with a sheer layer of underlying ice, don't drive anywhere until the salt trucks make it down your street. Stay warm and hydrate with lots of coffee today!

SCC wrote about this over the summer but I think it is time to readdress the issue.

It is one of the best and, most ridiculous, examples of LibTard behavior that I've ever seen. Here's the link.



I pulled up to the stop light the other night. It was a crisp summer night. I rubbed the side of my head. My finger rested in a small dent and my mind went back to a night many years ago.
I had pulled up to the same stop light and three boys, ages 10 or 11, called to me through the open windows. "Please, we need a ride. We don't know what to do. Our home is just a mile or two down the road."
I was in Oak Park. Just a mile or two down the road was Chicago's Austin neighborhood-not a safe place to be at 11 p.m. on a Friday.
But I looked at the boys-they looked much like my son when he wanted something, with those beautiful, big pleading eyes. What were they doing out so late? Where were the people in their lives who cared?
I invited them into the van, drove on and began chatting. "Tell me your names, boys. How old are you?"
Slowly, I coaxed their stories out. I was excited to hear about the books they liked, the teachers they didn't. I barely noticed where the car was heading.
"Boys, where are your folks? Where are we going?"
My questions were ignored. Red flags went up. But I hoped I was wrong. We arrived at the second address they gave me and the boys got out.
One boy stood near my door. He had a deep scar over his eye running down the side of his face and etched into his left temple. I stroked his close-cropped hair. "Boys, there has to be some adult somewhere where I can take you. We have to find someone who cares and I need to take you there. I have to go home to my boys."
The boy with the scar closed his eyes and leaned into my strokes. At this point, three other boys appeared. Then I knew it was too late. Both the car doors were open and one of the boys leaned into the driver's side. I had already locked my purse into my seat belt-something I do naturally when I get into the car. The boy tried to unlock the seat belt. I looked at him. "Don't do this boys. I know you're good people."
One of the boys looked at the third one in the car. "Don't do her," he said. "She was nice to us. Let her go."
The little boy with the scar reached in and punched the side of my head. It wasn't a hard punch. He looked at me and he looked confused. But with the second punch he forgot sentiment-he threw three more punches at my face. Another boy tried to grab the keys. "Get her car," another boy said. I had one thought: I'm going to die if I stay here.


Her first mistake was calling them "boys" - that sounds so innocent, so playful and, given her surroundings, so idiotic. It's just a shame that there was an opportunity for these poor "boys" from Austin to remove one more LibTard from the planet.

Well when the Libs aren't out endangering their own lives with their naivete, they're enacting laws that put us all at risk.

1 comment:

SCC said...

Double check that link Rue. We're getting an error.