Thursday, November 19, 2009
Justin and Iceman: The Bitchslap Chronicles.
Sure, they're pissed with each other now, but I'm betting the make-up sex will be spectacular.
P.S. Don't make Stephen Taylor pull this car over and come back there. Seriously.
OH, DEAR: The bitchslapitude continues:
Jesus, could the two of you just get a bathroom stall and a tube of Astroglide and settle this like Blogging Tories? Honestly, you're starting to frighten the children.
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7 comments:
the only thing this tragicomedy is missing is an argument over which kenyan birth certificate is the real one.
KEvron
Don't get Justin mad CC. He's a 260 lb hunk of former high-school offensive lineman. You'd have to jog 10-20 metres before he ran out of breath. Or maybe that's the Iceman. It's really hard to tell from comments on his blog. I'd ask, but I don't want him to incise my flank.
I'm feeling kind of sorry for the The_Iceman, but nonetheless, I can't let this go by:
Educated Libertarians can cut through the Liberal right flank like hot butter on your breakfast toast!
Gee, my hot butter never cuts through my breakfast toast. It kind of just soaks through. Maybe he uses sharper butter than I do?
Write what you know, children...write what you know.
I just started following this little soap opera: you know, morbid curiosity and all.
Another example of free speech chicken hawk-ism: Justin is gung ho about free speech until someone, including a fellow blogging tory like Iceman, who disagrees with Justin's Alaskan wet dream.
Maybe we can fix Justin up with Dodo.
Now, I have to go find another template or layout for my blog. I also discovered that Iceman uses the same background I do.
Maybe we can fix Justin up with Dodo.
That's sick. Justin's only 9 and Dodo's well into her 60's.
But But, Ti-Guy, Justin's mind may only be 9 years old, but physically, he's past puberty and as for Dodo, well, ever see The Graduate? Dodo can be Mrs Robinson
I think true love has to look beyond the physical: They're clearly kindred spirits.
However, we must prevent them ever meeting, out of sheer humanity.
I mean, think of the children ...
Or rather, try not to.
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