If this Terry Jones Nutbag in Florida doesn’t Burn the Quran Tomorrow, then he’s a Fucking Pussy

What’s done is done. You went out on the balcony of the nuthouse with your eyeglasses that have one lens missing and the other is a broken spiderweb of a lens, your foil helmet and embarrassing facial hair and announced to the world that you were going to burn the Quran. Not burning it will not take that back. You are crazier than a rat in a tin shithouse and are far more loathsome than those batshit religious fundamentalists you are trying to send a message to. And you know why? Because when they say they are going to do some shit, they do some shit. While I do agree with you that maybe the only way to fight crazy is with crazy, no one agrees with you that the best way to fight crazy is to talk crazy and then wuss out like a giant hatchet-wound of a vagina. The wingnuts which exist and claim Islam as their banner are already going to torch some American flags and probably torture some America soldiers based on your incoherent rambling. Now you are going to puss-out and only strengthen their resolve because they’ll think we’re all a bunch of blowhards who don’t make good on their word. So you’re already a total cunt that everyone globally despises. If you don’t make good on your threat then you’re also a colossal pussy.

And yes, I’m well aware this is just a huge publicity/marketing stunt to get people to buy his shitbagging books. I’m just jealous that I didn’t think up this Quran burning bullshit first to try and get someone to actually read my insane ramblings.

About Zach

Male homo sapien. Warrior poet. I live in Chicago with one wife, one offspring, and Scout the dog. I enjoy various stuff. Besides skinny skiing and going to bullfights on acid, I also enjoy running, reading, drinking, eating and procrastinating on many things, such as starting this blog. I have a mom, a dad, and a younger brother who recently produced a sister-in-law. I'm the only person in my family, sister-in-law included, who doesn't have a post-graduate degree. I guess that makes me special. I grew up in a small to medium sized town in the middle of Ohio. In fact the even smaller town next door has a sign which reads "The Geographic Center of Ohio". Given this is what they choose to boast you can only imagine how exciting that town is. My town is infinitely cooler. For example on weekend nights people from my town and the surrounding villages and hamlets converge on the public square to "cruise" in their souped-up mini trucks, some bearing Confederate flags, despite growing up and living rather safely north of the Mason-Dixon line. This is high-minded stuff we're talking about here. I graduated sometime during the Clinton presidency from the local high school where I played football and participated in absolutely nothing else. This strategy paid huge dividends when I applied to numerous colleges on the eastern seaboard which were highly selective. When you show up to the admissions table with "HIgh School Football and Nothing Else" on your application, you get respect. After graduating from Ohio University with a degree in Economics that I've used for absolutely nothing, I moved to Boston. Boston is a lovely city. I was doing things I'm not proud of for beer money and I left after 16 months. My next move was to Chicago and 10+ years later there I still reside. I write this blog for therapeutic reasons. Much like some people paint to relax or smoke crack to unwind after a stressful day, I record my thoughts on Al Gore's World Wide Web for 9 friends, 4 family members, 1 person who accidentally clicked through after an unsuccessful Google search for something else, and a guy named Patriot1 who lives in a silver Air Stream in the Nevada desert and broadcasts his own radio show. Is there a point to all of this? I doubt it. Years ago and in a galaxy far, far away (College Park, Maryland, then Athens, Ohio) I was toying with the idea of being a journalism major. I enjoyed writing so it seemed the obvious fit. Then I attended career day and learned that journalism majors could look forward to a salary of $EA,TSH.IT per year with the promise of a fatal heart attack at 47 years of age. I'm not falling for that trick, I told them (them being no one, and told being saying it in my own mind in the shower). Approximately 15 years later here I sit declared the big winner in that battle: I never made any money doing anything else and now I'm writing entirely for free. So suck balls, journalism career day. The views expressed in this website are mine and mine entirely. I don't wish to be an even bigger black eye to my family than I probably already am. As a result of this I will never be able to run for public office and I accept that reality. But this website is a very dignified, well-dressed skeleton full of witty retorts and honorable deeds compared to the disheveled, stenching, staggering and loud skeletons who would come marching out of the closet to White Zombie's "Thunderkiss '65" if they ever unearthed the college years. So enjoy your train ride, your hangover day at work, your AA meeting or your dump. I'm here to serve.
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