Senile Dementia = Andrew Sullivan

Pedophile in Black GlassesBoth have 14 letters…and both have an ‘S’! And an ‘e’, ‘d’, ‘n’, ‘i’, ‘l’ and ‘a’.

I think I’m onto something.

Moreover, one anagram of the common letters in the two names is “Lead Sin”. I think Senile Dementia qualifies for that title…dont’ you?

Another anagram is “Denials”….as in Senile Dementia denies the existence of reality.

At the very least, if you rearrange the first letters of each word and drop the duplicate, you get the word that best sums up Senile Dementia: SAD.

For more on this shitstain’s latest theory on Sarah and Trig Palin, talk to Stacey.

I refuse to link to that bottom-feeding putz.

Die in a fire Senile Dementia.

Russ

PS: My apologies to anyone with a family member suffering from senile dementia. I am in no way comparing the seriousness of that affliction with the assgrabbing crapweasel Senile Dementia.

That’s Love

Update on Wednesday, February 3, 2010 at 4:43PM by Russ

Don’t forget to join The Other McCain’s CPACDAS on Facebook. (Concerned Patriotic Americans Committee to Deport [Senile Dementia])

Under the headline “Andrew Sullivan, Fucking Retard”, Stacey links to an epic Ace beatdown of the cum-guzzling assjockey, Senile Dementia:

But Sullivan himself shrieks like little girl who just watched her pony get raped by the road crew for GWAR whenever the most trivial gay putdown is employed; it’s all I can take to keep from busting a gut to hear him lecture me on how we should all just blow off painful invective as if it’s no big deal.

No offense to little girls or GWAR, of course.

This is where I have to go the low road yet again and quote, I think, Treacher, who once sniped, “Someone needs to explain to Andrew Sullivan that his favorite beverage is sometimes used to make babies.”

I say this knowing it’s nasty and hompohobic. But it’s true: Andrew Sullivan, who has no true working conception of the idea that sex might sometimes have a procreative intent, once again shows how risibly out-of-touch he is with, well, anything not having to do with P-town or the Pet Shop Boys.

See, Andrew, one doesn’t need a deep understanding of Norse mythology to have come across the Norse name “Trig.” There are, you see, a huge number of books about baby-names, and huge lists of such things available on the Internet, and, see, while you apparently have never before met a pregnant woman (ick!), I can assure you such women (“breeders,” to use terminology that might be familiar to you) are usually very interested indeed in interesting possibilities for naming their baby, and this interest actually increases throughout their nine-month term.

Did my parents know a great deal about the Gaelic origins of my name before they gave it to me? No, but I can tell you as soon as I was old enough to ask my mother could tell me what it was supposed to mean.

Gaelic scholar, she? No. She had a baby-naming book, dude.

This is simply embarrassing. I actually do wish to avoid the worst sorts of stereotypes about gays — stereotypes as untrue, in the main, as they are mean — but Andrew Sullivan continues proudly championing them.

He continues to write authoritatively about all aspects of the human reproductive cycle while exhibiting about the same level of working knowledge of the subject as all those space-aliens on Star Trek to whom Kirk constantly had to explain the phenomenon of human romantic love.

At least the space-aliens finally got it after a long and smoldering Kirk-Kiss.

I have no fucking idea what it will take to dislodge the tumor of expert ignorance from Sullivan’s pot-pocked brain.

I continue to be baffled at how one of the gayest men on the planet — ranking like a 7.3 on the Kinsley scale of 6 — propounds weekly on arcane-only-to-him topics of childbirth, motherhood, and the Mysteries of Forbidden Vagina.

Ace lays it down like none other.