Last Monday at exactly and approximately four thirty five in the PM afternoon I turned the corner on Sacramento and Montgomery and ran smack dab into a song and dance troupe from the People's Republic Of Berkeley.
They were performing their version of a sprightly dance, or cultural manifestation of somehow great import, outside the Israeli Consulate.
For further referencing of the event, please to be kindly visiting this blog article:
After you have been finished reading my humble and lovely text of course naturally.
Boy oh boy and goodly gracious me but I wish they would not do so. I truly dislike having to elbow my way through a throng of unwashed hippies and elderly Jew-hating lizards.
I am not particularly concerned about the health of the gentleperson on whose wounding concern they were all aroused either, I should think not. Apparently the dumb ass knowingly took part in a violent riot directed at the Israeli Defense Forces. Had it been the Pakistan-India frontier, the chutiya would've been machine-gunned and serve him jolly well right. Whichever side he fancied himself solidaire with. Stupid fool.
But, caught a tear gas cannister in the kisser, and was promptly evacuated to an Israeli hospital. Should've instead driven him to Amman in Jordan and let the gandu Arabs take care of his head.
Well, if there is any justice in this world (and, being a lawyer myself, I'm fairly certain there isn't), they can try his bollocky buttocks for sabotage, rioting, and terrorism, and lock him up with all those Pally pakolis in the Israeli brigs. Lets see how that mendoo harami likes that, eh?
Bloody kattoo barber! Or, in plain and simple English as is spoke, a bendi, a champak, a chagan, and a fool.