Don't worry, kids ... he wasn't using his nads for anything useful, anyway.
Via Chester, we see Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi carefully unsheath the genitals of National Review's Byron York, place them gently on the anvil, and pound them to the width of Kate McMillan's soul.
That was nice. It's a real pleasure to witness these puff bags get slapped. But the commenter who lamented the lack of time stamps was spot on. Was he really Googleing?
Tick tick tick. Hilarious sitting here while you frantically search the Internet to learn about the cause of the financial crisis — in the middle of a live chat interview.
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That was nice. It's a real pleasure to witness these puff bags get slapped. But the commenter who lamented the lack of time stamps was spot on. Was he really Googleing?
Tick tick tick. Hilarious sitting here while you frantically search the Internet to learn about the cause of the financial crisis — in the middle of a live chat interview.
Best part of the whole thing.
The first few whacks you could hear the meaty, wet sound, but after that it was all hammer on anvil.
I guess "minorities" is the new catch-all term for "Americans who aren't greedy traders".
I wasn't aware that you could use a hammer and anvil to smash something into a size that requires imaginary numbers to describe.
Not to worry, folks. Mr. York isn't really hurt, just stunned.
Which is his normal state of affairs.
The U.S. is bankrupt and they are having a pissing match. Now thats fuckin' funny.
"Mr. York, this is Mr. Taibbi, he'll be eating your lunch today"
Seriously, I don't think there was enough left of York to mail home to his mother in a dixie cup.
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