In the tiny, little minds of leftists, anything that doesn’t worship whatever bullshit their masters tell them they are all for, today, is racist.

The "You're a racist!" thing has been so overused that people are now saying "Yeah, so what?"  No longer is it a weapon that causes instant capitulation.  A word that was once useful in describing unacceptable behavior is now meaningless.

Obama is an evil fuck.   Everything about him is sleazy and indicative of his nefarious intentions.

His partner Big Mike is just as corrupt.   

But white liberals and leftist just couldn't get enough of President Teleprompter.   Even while he was fucking them over, they loved it and wanted more.

Liberalism is indeed a mental disorder.

Valerie Jarrett still lives with them in is hugely influential. The Iranians are running her.

The resident Marxists didn’t like that I suppose

I've always liked Tulsi, but I hate what they are doing to Kristi.
And I'm not ready to give up on her yet just because a bunch of Karen's got their panties it a twist.

“They” aren’t doing anything to Noam. She’s self-immolating. And it’s not just the book.

When I get told "OK Boomer" I simply reply "OK renter".

It all became clear when the latest billions of dollars was to "slow the Russian advance".  Like two weeks to slow the spread of covid.  It won't win the war.  It will allow it to go on and on and on.

Peter had been in Police work for 25 years.
Finally sick of the stress, he quits his job and buys fifty acres of land in Alaska as far away from humanity as possible...
He sees the postman once a week and gets groceries once a month... Otherwise, it's total peace and quiet.
After six months or so of almost total isolation, someone knocks on his door... He opens it and a huge, bearded man is standing there.
"Name's Cliff, your neighbour from forty miles up the road. Having a party Friday night. Thought you might like to come at about 5:00..."
"Great", says Peter, "after six months out here I'm ready to meet some local folks. Thank you...!"
As Cliff is leaving, he stops. "Gotta warn you. Be some drinking."
"Not a problem," says Peter. "After twenty five years in the business, I can drink with the best of 'em."
Again, the big man starts to leave and stops. "More 'n' likely gonna be some fighting too."
"Well, I get along with people. I'll be all right! I'll be there. Thanks again."
"More'n likely be some wild sex too."
"Now that's really not a problem!" says Peter, warming to the idea. "I've been all alone for six months! I'll definitely be there. By the way, what should I wear?"
"Don't much matter. Just gonna be the two of us."