First of all, I'd just like to preface this with a huge no homo. I'm not sure exactly what the procedures are as far as necrophilia and watersports are concerned, but I know I don't wanna be seen as the kind of guy who would go around peeing on another guy's corpse. Because that would just be gay.
But something had to be done here just to counterprogram against (redundancy?) the ongoing and endless amount of bullshit about this asshole in the media this week. If there was any justice in the universe, he would have died in a fire a long time ago. Instead, he got to live to the ripe old age of 93! Granted, he hasn't been exactly lucid since the 1970s, but he still somehow managed to make it all the way into a key election year. That fag!
I'm not even going to get into the various reasons why it would have been nice if Saint Hinckley, Jr. (well, he should be one) would have finished the job back in 1981 (you might try this or this or this), but I just wanna do a little bit (over his rotting, maggot-infested corpse) to explode this myth that so many people actually give a shit about him.
President Mengele has suggested that we set aside Friday as some kind of National Day of Remembrance for the Gipper. I'm going to go ahead and suggest that we observe this date, but instead of, I don't know, saying a prayer to Our Lord Jesus or whatever it is that El Busho expects us to do, we get tanked on Natty Light (The Official Beer of Champions (TM)), find some symbol of Ol' Dutch, throw it to the ground and take a big, nasty piss over it. It's only right.
Also, I'll leave you with this from my own personal Jesus-type figure and the guy I sorta kinda borrowed the idea of hunting and killing people from:
"Speaking of Satan, I was watching Rush Limbaugh recently... Doesn't Rush Limbaugh remind you of one of those gay guys who likes to lie around in a tub while other men pee on him. Can't you just picture his fat, corpulent body lying in a tub while Reagan, Quayle, and Bush stand all around peeing on him. 'Ooh, I can't get hard. Ronnie, pee in my mouth'. He still can't get hard, so Barbara Bush comes in. She takes off her pearls, and undoes her girdle. Her wrinkled, flaccid labia unfurls half way to her knees, like some ball-less scrotum. Barbara walks over, squats over his face, and squeezes out a link into his mouth. Finally, his tiny dick gets half-way hard. 'Oooh!' A little bubble forms on the end of his dick, with a little
demon maggot inside. The demon maggot pops the bubble, and goes off to join a pro-life group somewhere. Rush Limbaugh is a scat muncher; he munches scat, get used to it."
--Bill Hicks from his awesome, posthumously released, Rant in E-Minor album
Fuck Ronald Reagan.