Shoes. Platform shoes. I love ’em. They give me a few inches of height without being as dangerous for me as stilettos. They give me the wiggle without endangering my running ability. They add sass to my walk and a touch of jaunt to my jiggle.
Oh, shit. Sorry. That was a pleasant digression, but not the point of this entry. First of all, I got a comment from a birfer going by the name of “Jack”. I am not publishing the comment because then the nutjob will have limitless access to commenting on my blog, and I don’t want that. Instead, I will produce it here so I can point at, laugh at, and mock it:
“The time lines, places, actions, motives, when analyzed, support, and are consistent with, what is the answer to the Obama birth puzzle:
Obama’s grandmother is his mother and his mother is his sister.
Think about it. Review all the facts and claims. ”
My dear, dear commenters. Let’s all turn to Jack and laugh uproariously in his face. I mean, I thought I had heard it all with this birfer shit, but this, this just takes the fucking cake. Dude, if you’re a parody troll, then my hat is off to you because this is fucking brilliant in its lunacy. It pushes aside the whole Obama’s father is a Kenyan who diabolically plotted to impregnate a white woman in Kenya before arranging for Barack Obama’s fake birth announcement to be placed in the Hawaiian papers so that forty-plus years later, Barack Obama could hoodwink all of America and become President of the United States. It doesn’t even bother to address the whole natural-born citizen versus naturalized citizen debate that is raging in the birfer world. Oh, no, this comment is even crazier than all that.