Buk Buk Bara-a-a-k

 

When I was a kid, my mom raised chickens in the backyard. I often heard the hens clucking and the rooster crowing. Eventually they made it to our Sunday dinner table. You know what? It didn’t matter how much they strutted their stuff, eventually they all made it into the ┬ápot, and they all tasted the same.

The current rooster-in-chief will eventually make it into the pot too.

Obama’s foreign policy to ass kiss the muslim world is what causes him to fear calling them terrorists. He goes out of his way to refrain from calling their horrendous deeds “acts of terror.” In my neighborhood we called a “spade a spade.” It is what it is Mr. President. Grow some gonads and take the step to be a Commander-in-chief. Call a terrorist what he is a terrorist. Terrorists commit terrorists acts. See that wasn’t hard was it?

I never thought the possibility of living through two atomic bomb attacks in my lifetime was a reality. I do now.

 

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