Old Dog, Old Trick 

Ask Bill: Advice for the worried

Cope you pathetic loser U of I dummy,

When I wrote you up a couple of months ago (BW, Opinion, "The Slackest State," June 22, 2011) about my desatisfaction with what Republicans who are runners against Hussein Obama, you said that all the smart Republicans like that Chris Christie honker from New Gersey and Jeb Bush were not runners because they don't want to inherent the economic mess from Hussein Obama that Hussein Obama inherented from George W. Bush. Being a overflowed septic tank of lies and socialistism as you are, I didn't believe your answer for a second, and I wanted to write right back and tell you what a no-talent hack libtard you are, who doesn't have the brain God gave a skunk turd. But I didn't get around to it at the time because there were a couple of rodeos coming up so I had lassoing practice to catch up on, and then there was the God and Country shindig over in Nampa which I never miss because it's easier than going to church, and there was another week or two eaten up because my Belinda left me and ran off to Oklahoma with another calf roper she met at the God and Country shindig, and then after that, I had to figure out what to do with the kids since it was the money she brought home from Quicki-Lube what put the food on the table since I use most of my money for ...

But hey, that isn't none of your goddamn business anyhow, so butt the hell out, you perv! Anyhow, it's probably good that I didn't get around to writing that followup letter since now I can write this one, which is about how pumped up I am that Rick Perry is come into the race to save the USA from Hussein Obama's Mao Mao agenda. What do you think of that, you Streisand-sucking puke, that Perry is going to kick Barry Hussein back to Kenya! Texas style!

And let me tell you something else, you whackedup old hippy freak. When Rick Perry is president, like he will be, us real Americans will be praying up a storm anytime President Perry runs headon into something he thinks is more God's business than a president's business. Like in that drought down in Texas? Rick Perry knows that a drought hasn't got nothing to do with being governor, so he did what a good Christian man oughta do and laid it off on God to take care of. And it isn't Rick Perry's fault that God decided to let that drought run a while longer.

So what I want to know is, Cope, how's it feel to watch all your smoochysmoochy hopey change go running down your leg like your boyfriend spilled a pisswarm Coors on your lap? Way back on that night when all you misfits and elitist sissies was watching Hussein give his amazingest stupid victory speech there in Chicago, did you imagine that us white people would just sit and take it!? That goes to show what a misfit elitist sissy you are. Why don't you go live somewhere where your kind lives? I bet you would think moving to San Fran Sicko was like going to heaven, wouldn't you, you stinking Vandalhumping weirdo?

Signed, Used To Be Dick From Melba But Me And The Kids Moved In With My Mom Since Belinda Left Me So Now I'm Dick From Homedale

Dear UTBDFMBMATKMIWMMSBLMSNIDFH,

Mind if I call you "Homedale Dick"?

So in answer to your question, I want to tell you about our old dog, if you don't mind. Think of it as a parable. I always find parables are a good way to make a point. Parables and allegories, similes and metaphors ... I use them as often as possible. I find that certain sorts of people have trouble keeping up if I don't dress my purpose up in easy-to-follow stories.

Now then, the parable of the Tired Old Dog: Our dog is old--112 years old in human years. Her name is Molly, and I've used her in parables before. She came from the pound as a pup, and to this day, in terms of lasting enjoyment, Molly is the best gift I ever gave my daughter.

But now she is old. She is nearly deaf, she doesn't see well, her legs give out on her now and then, and we think she has some variety of doggy dementia. She sleeps most of the time, but when she's awake, she paces back and forth, non-stop. Central to all her pacing is her food bowl. All she thinks about anymore is eating, and she's always looking for something exciting to eat. We give her treats once a day, and she relishes remnants of pizza crust or the occasional bite of pork chop or bit of boiled potato.

But we don't, and shouldn't, feed her that sort of thing all the time, should we? Gracious no, if she ate table scraps continually, as it appears she would prefer to do, she'd be as big as a doggy version of that New "Gersey" honker you spoke of. As it is, she's remarkably trim and fit for being 112 years old.

But in her doggy mind, Molly is past caring how trim and fit she is. Whenever she wakes from her multitudinous naps, she immediately checks her bowl to see if any surprises showed up while she slept. And then, until she goes down for another nap, she returns to her bowl every few seconds to check again. And again, and again. I believe she thinks that all she has to do is turn away from her bowl for a few steps, and it will be different when she steps back. It's either dementia, or she is a believer in pooch magic.

Whichever it is, since the day Rick Perry declared and became the right's newest champion, all I can think of as I watch Molly return to her bowl over and over, expecting it to be different, is the Republican Party, hoping that if it turns once more to another blustering, boorish Texas buffoon, it will be better this time around.

Write anytime, Homedale Dick. I love hearing from you.

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