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Spirited Debate on the Filibuster

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The Filibuster:
A Commie Conspiracy

Richard Weed


Now Let's Talk About This

Langston K. Blueballs

The Spineless obstructionist Democrats in congress are at it again, whining about “nuclear” options to protect their best buddies, the activist judges, who love gay homos almost as much as they love legislating from their benches. If history has taught me anything, it’s that our court system is a gay communist conspiracy to kill old people and retards. They can’t wait to ban the bible and institute mandatory sex in our schools. Too bad they can’t win any elections without cheating!

Now they’re peeing their pants like little sissies because the Republicans (real Americans) are going to change the rules so they can’t filibuster. I looked it up—filibuster means to talk and talk forever so they can kill the president’s nominations—like rockin’ John Bolton—without even voting on it. Of all the dirty tricks! Leave it the dirty Dems to think of that! They just looove to talk and talk!

Well, you might not understand the issue as deeply as I do, so you might be confused on the issue. Never fear, for I will now inform you as to why the filibuster is part of the evil gay commie conspiracy. Here are my top 9 reasons why the filibuser must go (I couldn’t think of 10):

Filibustering is Racist: When Strom Thurmond filibustered against desegregation, he had a point. Most liberals would have been against it then, but these Democrats are also using it to promote racism, because some of the good value-based judges are minorities, I heard. They’re the good kind, though; they do what they’re told. So the Democrats are the real racists! Hah! I bet they didn’t see that one coming, am I right? Democrats are all like “we looove black people,” but then they don’t like Clarence Thomas, even though he’s a black person! Hypocrites! Plus, if the DUMBocrats hadn’t made everyone so damn equal all of a sudden, they wouldn’t have to whine all day about those minority judges! That’s what they call ironic.

Democrats aren’t real Americans: According to practically all the good news guys on TV, we red-state heartland conservative values people are real Americans, and the latte-loving nuancies (Get it? Like “Nancies.” I made that up!) on the coasts are…well, not real, or possibly from somewhere else. So, we’re giving power to people who aren’t really from here, or are somehow not real.

Big words are gay: “Filibuster” is a long and obscure word, and every red-blooded American knows that long and obscure words are totally gay. Therefore, this filibuster thingy is clearly another limp-wristed liberal attempt to promote the gay agenda. If we true Americans don’t fight to stop it now, it won’t be long before we’re all making out with dudes! Gross!

Democrats have too much power: Despite the fact that the Republicans have the presidency and most of the House and Senate seats, they are still the most suppressed and, like, biased-against political party in the history of mankind. Democrats still exist within our government, and some of them still feel entitled to express their opinions and vote against our agenda. This is outrageous. If they manage to block some of the president’s appointees, the nation will be victims of their partisan tyranny, despite the fact that there are less of them, and they’re not even real! Bush won—get over it!

Democrats are communists: Everyone knows that Democrats are liberal, and liberals are socialists. Add to this equation that socialists are communists, and the conclusion is clear: Democrats are communists! Since it isn’t legal to be a commie in the land of the free, this means that Democrats are illegal. And yet they are still allowed to walk around the nation without being arrested! The Department of Homeland Security needs to act before it’s too late, and we wind up appointing judges who respect the constitution more than the bible. (The constitution, while it has its good points, was written by mere men, after all. The bible was written by Jesus! Plus it’s way longer.)

The ACLU: I haven’t really heard the ACLU express a position on this, but I’d bet they support keeping the filibuster. Anything the ACLU does is inherently evil and wrong, by definition. So the thing to do is oppose their position, no matter what it is, and you’ll always be right.

Democrats made up the phrase “Nuclear Option”: Although whiny liberals whine about documented evidence that this isn’t true, I know it is. Why? Because if the Republicans named it, it would be the “nucular” option. That’s how real Americans pronounce it. So there.

Democrats like Europe: They all go there whenever they can, and they even like stinky French people. Europeans are all like, “we’re so great,” but they say it with stupid-sounding accents, but Dummy-crats are are like “yeah you’re so great, and we wish we were just like you,” and then they, like, kiss. Fags.

Hillary Clinton is a Democrat: I hate her so much, don’t you? She’s thinks she’s so smart. She probably thinks she’s smarter than me, a man! She’s definitely more powerful than me…I’ll bet she wouldn’t even have sex with me, despite the fact that I’d give it to her all night…I hate her…

There are probably lots of other reasons the filibuster is wrong, but nobody in the elite liberal media is going to tell you about it, because they think they’re smarter than everyone else. So, since you can’t believe anything in the newspapers, you are left with one choice: listen to me. The filibuster is just a way for Demon-rats to prevent real Americans like us from turning this country into what our founding fathers intended: a totalitarian theocracy. Anyone who says different hates freedom. If you support the filibuster, you’re basically a terrorist.

  When considering the filibuster issue, which is necessary to do in order to address the issue of the filibuster, which is a controversial issue in the new media today, because the Republican-dominated congress is thinking about eliminating the practice, which would tie the hands of the minority party in congress-namely, the Democrats-if they opposed the confirmation of executive appointees, which include capinet appointees, ambassadors, and judges, which include many appointees who are religious extremists of the Christian variety, be they male or female, or Hispanic, or African-American, or Asian, or of other variety, I am reminded of my own family's traditions, including the traditions of cooking, baking, and other food preparation-related activities. One such activity is the handing down from generation to generation of family recipes, which include an excellent method for preparing Apricot Almod Scones, which I will read into the record presently.

These following directions are designed to make exactly eight of these great American scones. To make these delicious aforementioned scones, first one must prepare the apricot swirl. For this, one requires a half of a cup, or two and three quarters ounces, of dried apricots. Another essential ingredient is three tablespoons of water. Also required is two tablespoons of packed light brown sugar. One also needs a half of one tablespoon Disaronno Amaretto, and two tablespoons, or one half ounce, of sliced almonds with skins. For the scones, it is imperative that one acquire two and three quarter cups of unbleached all-purpose flour, plus additional for dusting.

Three tablespoons of granulated sugar are another important ingredient in the preparation of the scones. Two teaspoons of baking powder, as well as one half teaspoon of salt, must be used to properly bake the scones. Ten tablespoons of cold unsalted butter, cut into half-inch cubes, are also recommended. One third of a cup of pure almond paste, and four tablespoons of sliced almonds with skins are needed. A cup of well-shaken buttermilk is necessary to make these delicious scones, and also two large eggs. One and one half teaspoons of almond extract are also included in this traditional family recipe. To make the apricot swirl, one must simmer the apricots and water in a small heavy saucepan, covered, stirring occasionally, until the water is absorbed which should take about three minutes. Then one must transfer this to a food processor, adding brown sugar and Amaretto, and pulse to a coarse puree.

Then, add almonds and pulse once or twice to coarsely chop nuts. Then one should transfer the puree to a bowl and cool to room temperature. To make the scones, one is required to put an oven rack in the middle position, and preheat one's oven to three hundred and seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit. Line a baking sheet with parchment or wax paper, at one's discretion. Put flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, and butter in cleaned food processor, then crumble almond paste and add to processor. Pulse until mixture resembles coarse meal with some small (roughly pea-size) butter lumps. Transfer to a large bowl and stir in two tablespoons almonds. Whisk together buttermilk, eggs, and almond extract in a two-cup glass measure, then reserve two tablespoons of buttermilk mixture for brushing on scones. One has to make a well in center of flour mixture and pour in the remaining buttermilk mixture, stirring with a wooden spoon until just combined.

Now, it is essential to add the apricot puree and then stir once or twice to distribute without incorporating fully. The dough will be wet. Now, one must transfer the dough with floured hands to a well-floured surface, then turn the dough to coat it with flour, and pat it into a round about six inches in diameter and two inches thick. Carefully, one then must transfer the dough to the lined baking sheet and cut it into eight equal wedges with a floured knife, leaving wedges together. If dough is too soft to cut, one should chill it until it is firm, which should take about thirty minutes, before cutting. Now one is obligated to brush the top and sides of the scones with the reserved buttermilk mixture and sprinkle with remaining 2 tablespoons almonds. Baked until golden the scones must be, and also until a wooden pick or skewer inserted in center of a scone comes out clean, about forty to forty-five minutes. Cool on a rack fifteen minutes and cut wedges to separate. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Now, to further illustrate my argument for the vital signifigance of the filibuster, and also to continue my rebuttal in order to prevent any further debate from my opponent, I would like to read into the record a random passage from Moby Dick:

"Next morning, Monday, after disposing of the embalmed head to a barber, for a block, I settled my own and comrade's bill; using, however, my comrade's money. The grinning landlord, as well as the boarders, seemed amazingly tickled at the sudden friendship which had sprung up between me and Queequeg -- especially as Peter Coffin's cock and bull stories about him had previously so much alarmed me concerning the very person whom I now companied with.

"We borrowed a wheelbarrow, and embarking our things, including my own poor carpet-bag, and Queequeg's canvas sack and hammock, away we went down to 'the Moss,' the little Nantucket packet schooner moored at the wharf. As we were going along the people stared; not at Queequeg so much -- for they were used to seeing cannibals like him in their streets, -- but at seeing him and me upon such confidential terms. But we heeded them not, going along wheeling the barrow by turns, and Queequeg now and then stopping to adjust the sheath on his harpoon barbs. I asked him why he carried such a troublesome thing with him ashore, and whether all whaling ships did not find their own harpoons. To this, in substance, he replied, that though what I hinted was true enough, yet he had a particular affection for his own harpoon, because it was of assured stuff, well tried in many a mortal combat, and deeply intimate with the hearts of whales. In short, like many inland reapers and mowers, who go into the farmers' meadows armed with their own scythes -- though in no wise obliged to furnished them -- even so, Queequeg, for his own private reasons, preferred his own harpoon. Shifting the barrow from my hand to his, he told me a funny story about the first wheelbarrow he had ever seen. It was in Sag Harbor. The owners of his ship, it seems, had lent him one, in which to carry his heavy chest to his boarding house. Not to seem ignorant about the thing -- though in truth he was entirely so, concerning the precise way in which to manage the barrow -- Queequeg puts his chest upon it; lashes it fast; and then shoulders the barrow and marches up the wharf. 'Why,' said I, 'Queequeg, you might have known better than that, one would think. Didn't the people laugh?' Upon this, he told me another story. The people of his island of Rokovoko, it seems, at their wedding feasts express the fragrant water of young cocoanuts into a large stained calabash like a punchbowl; and this punchbowl always forms the great central ornament on the braided mat where the feast is held. Now a certain grand merchant ship once touched at Rokovoko, and its commander -- from all accounts, a very stately punctilious gentleman, at least for a sea captain -- this commander was invited to the wedding feast of Queequeg's sister, a pretty young princess just turned of ten. Well; when all the wedding guests were assembled at the bride's bamboo cottage, this Captain marches in, and being assigned the post of honor, placed himself over against the punchbowl, and between the High Priest and his majesty the King, Queequeg's father. Grace being said, -- for those people have their grace as well as we -- though Queequeg told me that unlike us, who at such times look downwards to our platters, they, on the contrary, copying the ducks, glance upwards to the great Giver of all feasts -- Grace, I say, being said, the High Priest opens the banquet by the immemorial ceremony of the island; that is, dipping his consecrated and consecrating fingers into the bowl before the blessed beverage circulates. Seeing himself placed next the Priest, and noting the ceremony, and thinking himself -- being Captain of a ship -- as having plain precedence over a mere island King, especially in the King's own house -- the Captain coolly proceeds to wash his hands in the punch bowl; -- taking it i suppose for a huge finger-glass. 'Now,' said Queequeg, 'what you tink now, -- Didn't our people laugh?'

Allow me to repeat that passage, for emphasis:

"Next morning, Monday, after disposing of the embalmed head to a barber, for a block, I settled my own and comrade's bill; using, however, my comrade's money. The grinning landlord, as well as the boarders, seemed amazingly tickled at the sudden friendship which had sprung up between me and Queequeg -- especially as Peter Coffin's cock and bull stories about him had previously so much alarmed me concerning the very person whom I now companied with.

"We borrowed a wheelbarrow, and embarking our things, including my own poor carpet-bag, and Queequeg's canvas sack and hammock, away we went down to 'the Moss,' the little Nantucket packet schooner moored at the wharf. As we were going along the people stared; not at Queequeg so much -- for they were used to seeing cannibals like him in their streets, -- but at seeing him and me upon such confidential terms. But we heeded them not, going along wheeling the barrow by turns, and Queequeg now and then stopping to adjust the sheath on his harpoon barbs. I asked him why he carried such a troublesome thing with him ashore, and whether all whaling ships did not find their own harpoons. To this, in substance, he replied, that though what I hinted was true enough, yet he had a particular affection for his own harpoon, because it was of assured stuff, well tried in many a mortal combat, and deeply intimate with the hearts of whales. In short, like many inland reapers and mowers, who go into the farmers' meadows armed with their own scythes -- though in no wise obliged to furnished them -- even so, Queequeg, for his own private reasons, preferred his own harpoon. Shifting the barrow from my hand to his, he told me a funny story about the first wheelbarrow he had ever seen. It was in Sag Harbor. The owners of his ship, it seems, had lent him one, in which to carry his heavy chest to his boarding house. Not to seem ignorant about the thing -- though in truth he was entirely so, concerning the precise way in which to manage the barrow -- Queequeg puts his chest upon it; lashes it fast; and then shoulders the barrow and marches up the wharf. 'Why,' said I, 'Queequeg, you might have known better than that, one would think. Didn't the people laugh?' Upon this, he told me another story. The people of his island of Rokovoko, it seems, at their wedding feasts express the fragrant water of young cocoanuts into a large stained calabash like a punchbowl; and this punchbowl always forms the great central ornament on the braided mat where the feast is held. Now a certain grand merchant ship once touched at Rokovoko, and its commander -- from all accounts, a very stately punctilious gentleman, at least for a sea captain -- this commander was invited to the wedding feast of Queequeg's sister, a pretty young princess just turned of ten. Well; when all the wedding guests were assembled at the bride's bamboo cottage, this Captain marches in, and being assigned the post of honor, placed himself over against the punchbowl, and between the High Priest and his majesty the King, Queequeg's father. Grace being said, -- for those people have their grace as well as we -- though Queequeg told me that unlike us, who at such times look downwards to our platters, they, on the contrary, copying the ducks, glance upwards to the great Giver of all feasts -- Grace, I say, being said, the High Priest opens the banquet by the immemorial ceremony of the island; that is, dipping his consecrated and consecrating fingers into the bowl before the blessed beverage circulates. Seeing himself placed next the Priest, and noting the ceremony, and thinking himself -- being Captain of a ship -- as having plain precedence over a mere island King, especially in the King's own house -- the Captain coolly proceeds to wash his hands in the punch bowl; -- taking it i suppose for a huge finger-glass. 'Now,' said Queequeg, 'what you tink now, -- Didn't our people laugh?'

Did he stop yet? Good. I win!

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