Wall Mounted Lid Holder

Snort my snow

"Thierry M.,

I decide to write me, because as a man left and as far as UNEMPLOYED chômiste smoker chimney sweep, he finally come to me a poignant bewilderment about me. I m explains.

As a man and a citizen who loves repetition of style a little heavy (like "as" for example), which also explain my position as The Undisputed Blogger mocked More the Gauchosphère, I've never denied me well fuck my mouth, I must admit. Slight schizophrenia help, I masked and not moving first seeks to put straight from the outset It not easy for me: I have long since deserted the smiling plains of thought clear to the arid sands of the deserts of thought CSPienne.

My worldview has always allowed this casualness with spelling, grammar, style or even the most basic editing, which allows me to ask me almost as Thinker bourdieusin, and has Moreover, the folly of believing that its evil little turds will be read by wanked a guy like Rioufol has other fish to fry than to look at my anecdotal cases. Especially as he finally acknowledged he is a journalist and that I, little mud dry neurasthénisant lost in an apartment, I'm in a bar columnist alcoophile pétassogène Toulouse.

However, the diligent reading - I said reading, rereading not: that's for fags like Butch - my prose MYSELF eventually embrace some form of haunting anxiety, to not hide myself, I am worried I am afraid to do something as fatal qu'irréparable. Throw me one of these windows a little dirty on this bar a decrepit city of Toulouse boring boring again, for example.

Yes: each of my ticket - not because it s no proofreading, the party is craziest - O expresses rage and despair, that old enemy, why have I lived so much so that for this infamy and all that:

We invaded (with the "s" lost earlier, and thus the account is good) of the Libero, totalitarianism Sarko is upon us, damn it, it's dead, it remains only a handful of lucid minds identified by libérobobos evil.

And yet, I do not speak unitééééé, if Butch will again emit greenhouse gases to the nostrils.

It is true that first it was very fun to read. Very entertaining, if you want. Do not take it amiss, but these hallucinated hooting repeatedly aimed to denounce fascism and Nazism other without seeing red for me was, for anyone who has three neurons in running, madly refreshing, starting with d 'infamous spoofistes who now have the difficult task of facing a low level that it is quite heroic (here: Butch applause - it is always better than nothing, and meanwhile, it does not loofah).

But it seems to me that lately, with this mix of purity the "N" PA should not cozy up Méluche and Frondegoche but we will still take a good spanking , perhaps even by the PS, I think I said that this case is the straw that broke the fragile vessel of a somewhat overworked mental health ...

Force metaphor, power of paraphrasing, I leave here - and the reader - care to imagine a vase of mental health.

There, now let me ask a little indiscreet, Mr. Thierry M.: I have a girlfriend? I mean, outside this bouncing but hollow Butch whose sexual appetite is lowered, which currently does nothing to spill your guts on my sofa? Did I, like any good macho that the farts in the chick cop mechanically by reading a text winded in an atmosphere of a smoky bar sandstone of the underworld in Toulouse? Because for a being a little rough with me, the presence of a magnet can be a big help, and may even contribute to a small improvement in my condition. But I digress. To catch the hussy, I would have to make amends, and most importantly, I renew the decor inside and outside a pretty rotten life.

And when I talk about decor, I understand. Instead, look:

Ca tears, huh?

Is not it touching to imagine, walking my bald head for the seedy streets back home, a small box of 8.6 under the arm, along with a mustache radasse to be good enough me home (for a fee, eh, do not fool around)? Frankly, when you see these photos, we can only say that it sticks to my coat, this mediocrity! I'm no one round to writing, not a round in oral, not a true round.

Life of shit.

Thierry hesitate anymore! Happiness is in the meadow! Contacting the faster any pro-Chavez and Venezuela will find it: I have the happiness, me and me (and maybe Butch, too), timed to take showers in a communist paradise, one more!

Sincerely,

the Other Mr. Thierry "

Best Toddler Ice Skates

Big sores

When I'm running out of arguments and I do not know what to say to my interlocutors, I feel rising in me the necessary outrage fascist frustrated Monaco who drank too much, I am never defect out the little phrase that kills: If you continue like that, I'll make big sores.

Vlan, and there the evil Franco assumed that I am is all about myself and him: so it takes very little for that kind of fool enough patting themselves on its own intellectual poverty - and think that he concludes the final debate of how ... I and several times threatened my little fists of evil zealots of another thought that non-thought-activist, who had the impudence to tell me other things than I like on my other blog (including attendance and tickets are becoming more pity, by the way).

"Big Bobo," is what the promise to oppose the fascist alternative visions to his own, possibly hidden behind a little harsh speech Bourdieu clumsy designed primarily to hide the poverty of context, or, of Otherwise, clear calls to mass murder in perfect relaxation nazillarde I can muster, since the black smoke until tar and feathers. If you follow me.

And there you have clearly stopped the joke.

I speak especially to Butch who, not content to scrape a gonad without any discretion, generously fun to fart on the sofa on which I relied m'affaler after writing this post and reading the exhausting winded prose of the other myself on the blog that you are familiar.

I say stop, my little Butch: If you continue to emit greenhouse gas emissions and olfactory assault, I'll do Big Bobos on the nose, because then it starts to serious dauber in the small apartment Toulouse. And as the window is stuck over I kicked a chair reading the wickedness that was telling me about this blog and I farted handle, now we can not then open to fart, Butch is on the floor thank you.

And after this unfortunate interruption of my speech, let us return to the initial topic of this post ... I was saying ... Ah, I feel that some are already asleep.

Perhaps rather have you hear me mumble stupidly need, with my beautiful voice of Adonis, a slightly rancid old ticket of my other blog on one of these magnificent MP3 recording for the poor which sputtering and crying and couinouille? For this, I encourage you to dive into my radio show baltringue exciting roller, No higher than Bar, whose name is well chosen because ultimately the top of the bar, I do rarely see.

Good.

I see that I still lost some .

I can also tell you about the unitééééé brailllllllllllléééééer and continue left to the fact that they are nothing but m'embêtéééééer not all want go to "N" PA and we will find ourselves alone, me and Oliviéééééer.

But I feel I'm still me répétéééééer and especially me trompéééééer as before ( here and there ).

Frankly, I know, I'm really tiring with my tickets not funny, not funny my life, my Butch not that funny ...

Well, you're going to stop farting in my sofa, shit?

Men Who Pee In Underware

This boy is a big damn funny

Today, my other self is trying, after analysis of uncertain feedback Figaro then exciting evenings of my MP3 drinking, to evacuate all the frustration of joyous events of the fall of the Berlin Wall, tragic day for me if it was then that I collapsed before the wet dreams of a great communicator that makes us happy or dead Both.

Fortunately for me to shadow him for that Thierry is still an opportunity to tap a little on his keyboard a few sour whining: the libero, they are PABOS the libéralimse is the fachimse, and capitalists make me very sad .

And also fortunately, I managed to find in other countries the possibility of an island paradise-communisto, as Houellebecq would write a quote that I history to culture, a bit like Thierry PUC cites an author, any one, say Bourdieu. A bit of Name Dropping the Delerme is terribly sore, but Thierry is worth it, it is cultuviré grown culture, right?

For if there was not the big Venezuelan Chavi, who and where would hope Thierry CSP? And how the Committee of Public Child abuse he would continue his saving work of seminal treatment of coils Crassous we lay writhing in painful abdominal constipation which a new stinker is not foreign?

Indeed, lest we forget not Chavez, Thierry CSP, my other self version langée not cleaned, he loves her terribly and is the true communism is not applied to screw up because you understand, it is a type legit. Not like the others here, who built the wall and have everything screwed up badly in the East. Or raised watchtowers and hungry North.

No.

There is serious. In addition, our Lider Rondissimo has the good taste to be farted in a country of oil. Has it all! Third world reserves!

Venezuela Chavez, energy, knows it!

That's why they save . A loud as possible (not hot water): rationing of electricity, showers, more golf for bastards petty bourgeois and more investment in infrastructure either for good measure, and presto, we gently prepares the whole population to move into military regime.

Oooh.

is still annoying, this major Communist stripping in a country full of oil, with a relatively favorable climate to grow everything and anything close to waterways, air, major tourist and dynamic short with something for everyone and still quite liked 15 years ago ...

far, it seems that all this has already played somewhere.

But where?

Greenish Yellow Stuff In Underwear

All the King's beeeeeeer


Thierry makes radio. Finally ... "Fact" ... And "Radio" ... if you want ...

Conversations counter it well, that remains a pleasure coupable.ce is needed is especially, especially not to the recording ... it is getting pathetic.

Exactly. Peter is like in bed. Alone, it's really too good. Of that there is an audience despicable.

I did the radio. I was 17 and I was a schoolboy, it was on Radio FMR ... Puits Clos place at the time! We had no class and has something like emission. Incredible to hear their thirties also puerile, lobotomized SOFT AND THE BULB!

you got a voice bailiff megalomaniac. Friendly advice, remains in the old blog ...

3 minutes of listening ... Pity, what these wrecks?

's ideas JMLP in power for 25 years? Finding of failure to Goche, admission of general disinterest for your thesis totalitarian stale and me? And me? Gnagna gngnggg .. I fucks Sarkozyist gngnegne the super ... crevard!

CSP and drinking companions against the evil capitalists who dismantle public schools: the revolution has started!

Finally, CSP is its groupies who speak better ...

Customize Lacrosse Pinnies

The elegance of socialism bulk

Good. That is the fart that Thierry Gentleman Thinker. He thinks that by his shirt in his pants and underarm deodorant, he's equipped to think, think, think, everything that is fed a good-boiled marxiso bourdieusiste he spits at irregular intervals to show his culture, the bugger. Verily I say unto you, and not afraid to say so out loud and clear: CSP, it is full of paradoxes messy. He said "not to mess" but never expects anything until it's black smoke and to exult in his fierce pulse of small fascist repressed. For him, Socialism From XXIst century is the same as that of the nineteenth, but with the letters mixed .

A From there, it the opening of valves in industrial quantities charged nonsense: uniform everywhere and for all, because You see, the conservatism, it became strangely fashion, and can analyze everything in terms of class struggle and social status . It's easy, it Marxist-compatible application and it does minimal cerebral effort.

After analyzing political , cowardly in the Thierry analysis dress. We feel he has a lot (too) read Marie Claire in the toilets of trendy bars he frequented in hopes disappointed so far to fish other than tuna mustache on a consistent communist, he continues by tapping young wankers commuter, even though they are part of the working class he claims, he, the false-bobo offbeat love with every fiber, have yet to have the good taste of a voter registration card or member of the "N" PA and quantity are despicable.

What is interesting is that our Thierry makes his analysis on the clothing as the carrier of individuality, then attempt to refute it, while admitting that after all, zindividus (which he does is not included, as a reminder, it was officially declared Bulot Supreme Rock 'N' PA low tide) will do it anyway they want as well.

For example, based on the observation that hair-raising 75% of people wear jeans (Finger Wet & Statistics Institute Thierry M. de Toulouse), he concludes in a magnificent fallacy Two francs that all these people wearing the same thing are all the same, but regretted very much that people do not define themselves beyond their clothes, which is a typical paradoxical because, to reiterate, the zindividu n ' not exist in the thesis-Trotsko céhespienne. On balance, the zindividu does not exist uniform but it's great totalitarian but super, and ...

"You can wear uniform and remain a whole person, damn it!"

short. We swim in the middle of inconsistency from one end to another.

From Thierry CSP as actually 1 per day.

Cheats Pokemon Shiny Gold

Thierry tells us of his butcher

reviendu Thierry is with all the fury that only a fantasist could deploy after having taken a frigged brilliant (in every sense). spruced by a series of adventures as heartbreaking useless for improving general of humanity is our pet of company left in his rantings lamentable.

In ticket as long annoying, he tells us so its powerful analysis and fine prose of his butcher who commits a blog. It's ... very boring. Like all other tickets , it not escape the observation evidence : anything can be funny for casual reader fell by chance (and erroneously necessarily ) becomes repetitive and predictable completely after a dozen texts. In other words, with one ticket per day on average, the average reader snores on CSP in ten to twelve days chrono.

It seems fault write it in words to make it understood: Thierry poorly written, respecting all too well guns properly writing EdNat compatible . The form should be otherwise well basically a conventional incorrigible, where, finally, launched on brass rails, no idea exceeds the other, and where each alignment laborious digging in a word vocabulary a little skinny only provides a new repetition of an antiphon repeated endlessly in the hope that it is true, and we mean absolutely elsewhere, without the slightest trace of originality .

We gags.

It's long enough tasteless, and his subjects are a monomaniac closeness bordering on compulsive disorder. In three or four points, we made the turn.

could try to understand how he came to be confined to a few comments comments (Figaro, please), his stories willy (oh, yes, stories of wily, all 4 or 5 tickets on average), some crispy nonsense about his awkward interpretation of a poorly digested communism, and his vision ... Alternatively, say, the usual political theories which we understand - for their poverty - that she will never open the doors of any institution or political journal-writing whatsoever. We may add little spurts general strategist heads of gondolas in a suburban Prisunic (Toulouse, of course), the permanence to result in failure funny can barely put a chilli in writing otherwise monotonous, so we will have done the trick.

Meanwhile, this spoof has succeeded to attract a growing number of readers that they, like the kidding, the story of Butch and women mustache. And as it offers a vast field and conducive to mockery, we'll continue.

However, needless to say that now we choose your tickets the most fun to bring them to the pinnacle of absurdity that is struggling to reach Olympics despite repeated efforts.

Thierry CSP promises to be a topic of interest to study entomology still a good time. Happy reading.

Cute 3rd Birthday Quotes

Chip bavouse

- Hello CSP.

- Hello Thierry, arf.

- Say my con, you'll tell us where you've spent the last days or you can go and do?

- Of course I'll tell you something. In good pathological liar, I could always invent a lot of stuff .

- Yes, but here it's not your another blog. Here, it must be true, solid, verifiable .

- I could always say that I tested for you Sarkozyist 20 years.

- Yes, you could . But nobody will believe you. On the one hand, because you no chopper masses (and you yourself say that) and secondly because in addition to that, with your trailer twix as a belt abdominal shabby terrorist chocolate bar , you no longer attracts as much divorced Communist ... of 50 brooms

- Yes there is no doubt ... I probably already just by writing. But I must respect my personal, that of the other blog : normally, a James Bond sex. Ok, it was not a circle, a job shit, rhetoric to cry, not a form Olympic sexual problems that put a nice touch Evrard-on, but I must continue to introduce myself as 007 of the adventure of creative willy .

- Well then, what happened in real life during these few days ?

- working ADSL line. Too bad.

Yes, say it like this, it's stupid. But I am sure are you going to develop.

- Yes indeed, because a thing like my testicle, I'm not finished hide, but I will like it used to experience some regular readers of this blog. So here it is: as we noted in a while, I'm bored and firm as I had an ADSL line, I spent the time to download porn like a big nag. And I fell on generators password for a site or two online ...

- Unhappy creature ...

- And I beg you to believe that there, I came across a piece of choice. So I spent several days trying to stuff more or less impossible and anyway uncountable with Butch. I chopper bulbs and I think my cock is a bit damaged, now ...

- Oh damn, still ...

- Yes, eh?

- That said, it explains much better why you were so busy these days, but not why you tell us about problems ADSL ... You would try to hide something? (I mean, in addition to your burns zgeg)

- Nay, my friend, not so! In fact, as I told you, I downloaded everything I could. I literally warms my ADSL router as never before. As I had no pinpin Because to push the crisis and thus more job (yes, even temporarily, I can not fit on the distance), I spent my days staring at the virtual buttocks.

- Your brain is sick.

- Yes. But this is not the issue. And so, by dint of download, I probably ended up arousing suspicions brigade of some salacious. It's Thursday night that the brigade in question landed in my house and grabbed my modem, the computer and all the rest. 3 terabytes of movies, some were even straight ... This means ...

- One trembles to imagine terrible picture ...

- The most beautiful yet to come: as I had in my little pogne Braquemart combat, standing proudly if a little bruised from my recent experiences, I obviously had an unhappy reflex.

- I refuse to believe that such expressions of dominant hétérovirilisme crypto-fascist has failed to provide any results!

- Are you kidding? Figure gymnastics clearly not approved, pants on ankles, I jumped back, I'm tangled in my little chair on wheels, and I fell backwards, trying to avoid big hairy legs Section assault that had just nab me in the heart of the action. I banged on the radiator. Blackout.

- Blood of Christ.

- When Jason Statham thinks about me is that demolded a cake. Ok?

- No but wait, something like that, it does explain the absence of writing usual neurotic since Wednesday, and most importantly, it has lasted so far.

- Yeah. Emergency coma for two days and stitches, observation. I emerged Saturday. Obviously, it took that knowledge (the "N" PA) are believed to explain that no, no, my diction and my reactions were although those I had before. Interns opted for very severe brain damage, but we managed to convince them that I was like that before.

- I begin to understand.

- short: just very ordinary.

- And now?

- Well I found a cyber cafe. Butch is going to go after a Manchee when I go find him. And plump too. With its small hole, 5 or 6 days it should be just Flapper, now.

- Well, good luck ... Biafine?

- Ah, yes, thank you, it will serve me ...

Fotos De Mulheres Buss

The whelk unnecessary

Leaded by my

sordid stories of internal piping , discredited by a v Ilaina Mélenchon not accommodating to the point of going hanging out with the CPF instead of following the strategy indicated that I had yet heavily, surrounded by incompetent and incapable activists "N" PA half of which are more or less openly moustached, faced with the installation of a financial crisis Because chômedu which lasts no longer believe that it is "behind us, "gun at half-mast by statistics even when they are rigged, managing to deflect some of the same my faith when my j'éructe fascism operetta, noting with growing anxiety as my base of readers engaged in a genuine competition of trolls under the eye of a grinning spoof unleashed, my other self we all experience is not in great shape. "Bof bof", said the air time and the next canned cassoulet tonight promises to music and feel the full nose punishment vote my gut for a return to normal meals ...

But Thierry has more tricks up his sleeve. Well, finally, no, not really. In fact, it has only two, but big: the ultranéolibérôs we will do the po - France comes to unbridled liberalism, and it takes a real man with baloche as watermelons, leather, studs and chains to have fun and this right man will be me Thierry CSP - and when it works not the heavy artillery, that which comes out on special occasions to send a strong signal to the fringe of the most moldy his readers against all the bellowing fachitudes. Translate: when things go wrong, the litany out on the right that prevents fachoïde nice people left to speak, who wants our women and our children, and also a little ass because it sells, ass .

But what's new in there ?

Not much, since the look right is Facho and the country is held by the Liberals are the cream pie of a dilettante in writing of any teenager on a leftist blog more boring. Call the big night on the familiar tune of Resistance Brownshirts can always put the real problems under the carpet - one example among others: the terrifying rise of a deadly stress when you're alone at home, Butch and ran out of patches - to play the card of good little blogger engaged with the guts to fight, ready to defend the true values, and who will not hesitate to climb on top of the towers when he will monitor the nasty right-wingers.

Thierry is worried about the future? His job, when he has one, sucks and the conditions under which they live are being degraded at great speed relative to the mold in the bathroom galloping on the ceiling? The only girl he can approach dresses like a slut and takes 30 € the pass, and it's already a lot when you're unemployed? He has a financial gun to wipe the slate concrete Balto and wondered when it will be over-indebtedness in the knowledge that this is imminent? He looks at the JT (not at home, the big TV is down, so he goes to the cell of the "N" PA not to feel too only) that shows that things are going badly and he wondered when the Iranians are going to blow up the bomb? His world is huddled around a badger activism and its alienation of exploited employee who only thinks about the revolution that does not come? He voted CPF for a while and then Olivier, and he says he will have to vote Méluche discreetly because the "N" PA, it's really not like it and he does not know where he lives in Toulouse?

No problem!

Because at least, he remains something to hang on.

Thierry, you're a whelk , crénom!



course, be a whelk is not super-carrier in the world of brutes around us. Thierry is so small bubbles whelk, it foam a little when he puts salt on the foot. For drooling, he drools. The foot, so he has also developed. He writes all his blog. Words. So when it speaks of national identity right or left, bam, here is the small marine gastropod which rises as one man whelk, and the strength of her little foot, writing a hot ticket on fascism and 'confuses supposed or real a government that tries to forget his dismal procrastination by initiating discussions at the con.

Obviously, then, it is still poor and con, eh, but moreover, it is dry as to have drooled.

Then he waits for the tide of history to re-soak.

And that's important to re-soak.

Soul Eater Doujinshi Read

A very large pipe

So folded : "N" PA can only put on the back of the next FCP stinging hammering the left of the left since the Communist Party History Channel has decided not not get wet-dreamers with Trosko party stupidly anti-unitééééééééé. As well, Méluche, fresh as a roach to macerated pastis, adds a layer in the wriggling joy, needless to say that Butch went after full pear when Thierry learned information:


C is very good news. The Left Front continues, and without the NPA, which is even better. He remains the fulcrum unit which has left and the other citizens who want real change in our country to solutions to the left of the left to the crisis. I agree with the communist formula cryptic text stating that the goal is not to oppose a left to the other in the competition which will take place the first round, it would be too bad, we is not really large enough to oppose us, but it comes to "wriggle trilili the left." And it's true that often only the trilili still wriggling on the left. I would not have put it this way, but the idea fits me perfectly. Now clowns forgiveness friends NPA too have to make the effort is expected of them, lean forward and cough a good shot. "

And that is how, after laying on multiple occasions ( here and there ) of fine analysis policies the secret to which I say, I quote:

Mélenchon tries to anticipate the dirty trick, approaching the NPA

... I find myself, the painful anus to explain why we must continue to read me, while I have the interpersonal skills of a whelk, and to believe in olibrius party in which I was active in service order . On the one hand, we can reassure by saying that we have escaped the worst if I had been director. On the other, one can also regret it, both the slow and painful death of the "New" Party Unity Anti-lack of salt. The most fun being still I dare say, in my other blog , stuff like "6.5% is the mini-rump to pick " while the party - in which I am crying my post midis unemployment as long afternoons pushing wheelchairs - can not even approach this score?

Frankly, I do frieze over the pathetic! I sprawled myself with happiness!

return for which, I chouinouille, I whine and I storm upon the wicked who seek nothing but unitééééééé while through ideological purity "N" PA ... do not laugh, basically, shit, I try to be a bit serious ... as I said ah yes the ideological purity of the "N" PA we will ...

Well, Butch, that's enough, you leave, you scream with laughter keep me focused!

Playthe Old Poptropica

Here, bored ... The cage phobia

You know what that is, the fat cells? Well for me, I found that gradually, helping Twix wild rampage. Adipocytes, fat cells is that they are bigger, actually. The Twix has nothing to do. It adipocytes, you see. Basically, the idea that we would eat is due to the muscle, they eat more, there is less muscle because that fatigue is depressed because we did not job and a rotten blog that everyone laughs, we still eat more, and voila, it becomes all round while flaccid while soft, like Winnie the Pooh, but more con and more aggressive, and it is morflent adipocytes and that will make life much myself because I am super-conscious of my waistline. And they go so nicely stay there and multiply as the urge that you make the mold sofa watching the series for adulescents.

Or was I?



Ah, yes : the twix.

So, I say to myself as well I do eat a diet that's boiled fish, rice and full twix because seen (my lack of) salary, I have not really afford to do something else with my life and hop off the ugly fat cells and I can show my hairy chest and my little swollen buttocks in Port Leucate next summer! Eh, it's what I tell myself ...

Yeah ...

the moment I was fine m'affamer as I could to try to bring me François Hollande, they are like Butch: they remain and continue surreptitiously typing in the fridge without the dishes and more shit! And I like super hungry, I throw myself on the sugar and things that are fattening because I understood nothing of the diet, and my insulin-dependent chronic passes me over the head, bam, I regrossir. Confusion, discouragement, despair, life-gray complexion identified, I vote "No" PA.

And more, like a big dork, I think the only way to fuck is to play sports in a chair and pissed on in Pigna on my blog. While in turning all the fucking sugar and unsaturated fats from my diet, I would get much better results but no, I prefer the method nag.

So I'll make sport, as a patient. Yes, it's cruel. We live in a world where chocolate is disgusting better than green beans. Anyway, when we will be under socialism, while it will make better and greens, they deviendornt good. Yes. Deviendornt is the new Socialist spelling words that do not reread on a ticket quickly flared.

Why I say this with a fault to say?

Oh nothing. It's just that I have no ability to talk politics aujourd'jui, as Hiji, or demjain, then I would balance all the things that go through my head, starting with boogers because I also have a cold now and it goes through my head . The appeal related to the empty air of the skull, probably. There. I know. It has no interest. I'm working yet. I put mistakes, anything I write, I post reviews of Figaro, I do not do politics.

Damn I think my blog me rotten life. Since I want, I feel less ... more ... say that the little casino on the corner has been progress its turnover in radius Chips and Candy.

I am a mold sofa.

I'm bored.

Farm.

What Gague Is A Safety Pin

Writes the strength of a wrist needy, with the harshness of punishment to enjoy revenge spitting its venom in a moist delight, a rage so great that it oozes pignouferie of self-hatred by all the pores and will commit to a societal analysis is the blog of Didier Lestrade, founder of the French branch of Act-Up, and revengeful capotolâtre gay activist fighting. Incidentally founder of gay and lesbian magazine Tetu, funded not by the LGBT branch of the NPA, but by and Pierre Berge Foundation Yves Saint Laurent, mandarins of the left caviar specializing in crusades right-thinking, well known also sponsors other associations as honest as the Godfathers of SOS-Racisme . Hear: Lestrade is one of those clowns who still pretends to show that homosexuality is a value subversive lifestyle sulfur likely to shock the bourgeoisie, in short, a political cause justifying their conduct by a group of oppression aggressive lobbying. Who can take seriously such pedantry to the triumphant era of political correctness, when homophobia is not an opinion but a crime? Whereas in fact it has become a standard defining the canons of bourgeois fashion and imposes its criteria in the microcosms into the Parisian press. But for Gay Combat stubborn, neither recognition nor the benevolence of the media, nor the noisy parades festivocrates community in our streets is sufficient to satisfy the desire for revenge against straight people.

Shouting his identity on the roofs has certainly become a rewarding and lucrative business. As if it was still a taboo at a time when the staging of her exhibitionist small difference is the big show of the moment, especially through reality shows, the slogan of a consumer society, where everyone is summoned to break the ultimate taboo, transgression shake prejudices any inherited value. It is not enough. It is still a right of privacy of others, inspect suspicious behavior phobia and denounce the traitors. And hence the mad crusade to take an apprentice Torquemada, wants to wash dirty linen in public. Feels a mission community to denounce homosexuality, latent or actual celebrities, living or dead matter, the important thing is that it is against their will. This practice where you throw in food for the populace's sexuality is called a personality coming out. It is the fate reserved for those who want to live their sexuality in a discreet and make the mistake of not having sworn allegiance to the union official invertoïdes. Now you know how me, CSP, blogger most fun of the gauchosphère and sexually open spaces of multiple exchange, I like the information. And do not doubt, that of Michael Jackson's homosexuality will change the buttock of the capitalist world. If so, brace yourself, MJ was gay! That's a ticket with a political content and social analysis that I like, that is to say at ground level.

You can find the text here on my other blog. I know it's distressing to read such a stupid bunch of clichés. At the same time it is funny to see how this post says a lot about my little obsessive tendencies for all kinds of practices more or less perverse.

So I suggest to readers of the channel PUC réinformation a good sounding smelled Nabe, to understanding how the activists of Act-Up "apprentices fascists in pink, but mostly the reason why I admit my fascination for their dubious methods on my other blog.

"The condom, in its use of ideology, is symptomatic of the prevailing fear of love and especially heterosexual love. It suits the fundamental homosexuality that society perpetually guilt and demanding less than men fuck with women. It is beyond all powers since ancient times as the opposite sex harmony. In the minority of moralizing in the most despicable demagogic past fifteen years (as if gays were better or worse than others!), We made sure that the old normal abnormality becomes supreme. I find it it's a chance for the subversion of heterosexuality which can recover asleep, it is true under the beauferies release Gender sixty-eighters; Finally! Kiss a woman without a condom, will become a subversive act! When I see the number of "girls queers," and beautiful, which, given their complex beauty of nags with whom they are shit, prefer to spend their evenings sipping milk shakes with tantouzes "cool" who do not flirt, I am very pessimistic about the percentage of beautiful queens sex without complex would be enough démasculinisées back to us. Gay culture does not interest me. I have the right? Not sure. If I'm not leather, bananas and hats, eyes mustaches and fiery, I am ostracized by society. Things are there: the outcast who is hateful hetero dares not feel concerned by the drama of the gay community, in parentheses stronger than ever, admired, envied and institutionalized Loved Gay Pride and Act- uper. The bullet hole in the moral widens. We will all eventually fall into it. Although a hetero can say it will always accused of homophobia, return its ill-concealed unconscious fag, being a fascist, of course! There he orgasm! "Fascist! "While gay activists movements never been better organized in purely fascist factions in their propaganda and their aggressive intimidation and blackmail to death, it is the poor little handful of straight people who feel guilty is pointed! "

Note nonetheless that, once again, like attracts like, red fascists and fascists in pink join hands in a fine outburst of communal belching, since CSP is now links by his new friends in Tetu. And I am proud, as I am right. With a little luck, with my many talents for the scribbling, they may hire me, I say maybe, to service order log, which would be the consecration of a large failed writing career. In any case, you will hear. It. Sure. Glory, what, another great victory of Bolshevism again.

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Ah, the brave fool! Boredom

"Enough, Thierry nothing in the pants!"

"What shocked, it's given him, and more money to stay home ..."

"That would be me, I would start all his twix dissolve in an acid bath!"

"What is its unusual spelling worthy of a kid in primary school"

"Sorry Mr CSP, but there are still"

"Excuse me, but I can not have pity for this guy there! "

" This type of migrant activists are academics from fascism, loose well "

" The 'N 'PA has three members "

" Only Three? It's a joke? "

" No no, it's not a joke "

" Three's a drop of water except when they attack the Kro! There they are worth hundreds! "

" why argue, the word means Trotskyist Communist! "

"We must first overcome the tragedy of collectivist, sucking subsidies and crippling the national body"

"we thierry reader of the blog! Demand the return tickets of the true CSP, with blood and tears, its small groans mixed with a spoiled child whining loser of sobriety by accident! "

"It's funny that these Communists are against evictions unless it's the CGT practice!"

"3 militants? And where are the others??"

"Gave us what thierry with this type of ticket as his blog goes wrong"

"more and more comments are in the right direction"

"This little shaker teenager throws a smokescreen and that's all he can do to make it look fine political analysis "

" Thierry is a perverse: when he made a post about her little griefs and frustrations is three points. When it's fascist, it's 30 comments, 25 outraged and gently reputation worse. Then he made the easy publication of comments from the right. Easy enough: 50 Comments wealthy. "

(Source ... )

Ah ...
And they say
found Thierry golo ...

But that is I still have me, the job , BC ant to reach its niv water.

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polished

When you need to tell fat nonsense - including fascists - and bellowing like deer in rut by describing my bondage evenings, I'm never late for an amalgam nauseated, never go near the slightest opportunity demagoguery, and I would shortcuts with a singular history that I Master poorly, or at least wrong in the sense enough to make him say what I want. In contrast

, I see no objection to singing the praises of war criminals in columns beard of my blog long as they were the "good" side of the political , which is to create "popular democracy " to kick in and Derche Mandalla in the mouth in countries that will fill then poor. The pathetic tickets on Morales or Chavez are so illuminating as the double standard measures of "thought" my Double Thierry delirious in the psychiatric sense of the term when he speaks of liberalism (which is everywhere), and a convenience chantillesque when he swoons over genuine butchers. Chavez writes the history of his country's most beautiful golden pages of Communism Triumphant where it closes the news agency with a vengeance, it captures the political opponent in the biggest media silence, it confiscates from all sides? It is the application of the principles of Communism happy that makes us happy, of course!

It's love, really. And love , we know that sometimes overlook the small defects on the other, is not it? In this case, small imperfections spirited military consisted in a few trifles as the systematic bleeding of his own country, smothering any methodical challenge, the muzzling of the opposition and the phasing of any idea of private property. We can already see the profile gulags in the coming years, our Chavi will certainly rename it with a poetic name.

Then the response the left will obviously be in luck: it was not communism, you see. When things like this frequently, it may not be communism. When it works, it is all. It never works, of course, this show every time, exactly, that makes millions of dead, of course, and that's why it's not Communism Who Makes Happy . Let's see. Yet simple, right?

Nah, anyway, we can always count on a ticket boring over from Thierry to never, ever, afford to such painful comments.

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Thierry made the muscle



Otherwise, he sometimes also of to make the rahah
ah ah

ah ah

ahdio forgiveness excuse me it nervous.

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The Code Thierry

No me reading can ignore the muffled giggles that capture the average reader when I attempt a political analysis. He laughed, but he laughs, God! I am contemptible and ridiculous. While my reader may feel compassionate and full of a sincere desire to help those who are called often abused mentally handicapped - who are mostly people that I shoot on weekends when I have a job and that deserve particular we are trying to support them in everyday life - both the Bolshevik moron I painfully mime in each ticket by claiming more blood on the walls and more small strokes pecker in moist orifices can no longer be taken into mercy. And of course, my favorite among all, it's flood of bitter tears my poor innocent keyboard to groan at how it is cruel and painful to live here, in France liberalized to death. That's really very very funny.

But it goes further.

If we stayed there, we find only my pathetic moaning pussy in dire need of recognition, affection and a good dose of sex hormones calm frantic.
In fact, I can do a lot louder.

See my article on Glen Beck, a type unknown to my readers exactly but with which I will knock them out without notifying the usual nonsense: working on Fox, he must be an ultra-neo-liberal who takes the triple somersaults back to Milton Friedman of his grave (because I, Thierry, while I understand liberalism and I know the difference between Milton and Friedrich, I know what I mean then I can also write Beck calling it an ultra-liberal). Credibility.

Because ultraliberalism it is like this:
Everywhere.
And even in places most disconcerting is that the atrocious treachery of the sinister thing

Yes. At the station, France Telecom, the presidency, the media, there are chunks of liberalism. Thierry
PUC noted. Thierry CSP knows. And Thierry CSP is leading a crusade to convince the world that never ends hydra reborn.

OK Here, obviously, we do wonders even on my level of mental health: it was realized that no, it's not a skit from Monty Python's novel, this type is very agitated very seriously, and SEE symbols of liberalism everywhere. Including at Marianne, and if there's far, what about the rest of the world?

And the best part is that this is not a type isolated from his time unemployed to scream his hatred of the wicked world which surrounds it on a blog before repetitive Internet hilarious mid-mid-terrified: he there is a whole party of national scope, with members paid to say this. That robs you great capital, the revolution is at the end of the road and roll, choice, and that the insurgency would do well to come because actually, Thierry is a little shit in his small apartment Toulouse poorly insulated.

And just another question, at once: is it that all militants "N" AP is as daft as him? Is that in France, on power-collectivist par excellence, there is a non-negligible number of people who think he's right?

Indeed, their numbers constantly fluctuate. Including the "N" PA whose memberships are plummeting. But there will always, in this France who loves prepubescent impulses of pimply teens always struggling against a society that has less and less time to spend on their psychiatric cases, a little guilty affection for fascist morons.

Simple as that. It needs to be done.

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That's how it merdouille


On my other blöeurgue , I made a little trip "And if what I told was heard by more than 10 people, just once?".

With extraordinary mastery of all the technicians who are around me and myself and everyone around me and people coming and everyone there are very many thank you thank you, so I made available a recording of a radio confidential whose quality audio is an excellent indication of our talents feedback, capping wild, compression set incorrectly, dynamic shit, a real exploration of what not to do it in acoustics, all brutally violate the rules when you're a gross cry no theme, and provides a hearing painful or unbearable to the average listener.

And for background, I am merely a tasteless resuce a previous post where I explain, my little nasal voice, how I manage multiple rebuff myself through the fairer sex more often my budget gaudriole withers of CSD in RMI and RMI in RSA ...

So probably still doped mechanical laughter of an audience anyway rikiki and fully committed to my pathetic antics, I launched into a long tirade about how "One Day I Will Be Famous". This is

giggle. I know.

But I am determined, I understood and I agreed I did not get to make you laugh.

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Instead of saving the NPA, if we got rid of them?

And here I have no idea brilliant text for this post. Except that Moa, educator already disabled child care worker apprentice, and care of other disabilities, mental these, the children of activists "N" PA. Yes, it soon Day "N" PA-and-trenteuh ungueuh the Hauteuh-Garonneuh near Toulouseuh. Y Myriam Martin will be present, that tolosa I am, I have not managed to beat me ...

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They are alcoholics, they are losers they are Poujadists they are racist and all left. They receive grants and actuarial VélôToulouse and roll, and the first event they vandalize public amenities without ever being prosecuted, like their colleagues in Poitiers. They are defended by the "N" PA is probably the most similar in France to a non-democratic exercising complete domination of their world and that corruption would weep with envy a Colombian trafficker. These are all big cons cops backward hosting Molotov cocktail and the last bastion of leftism as retrograde.

Trotskyists.

Or at least, is the image they give them too often. Of bumpkins. Morons. Living in unknown corners of civilization, to hear some people talk about it is limited in the pampas , rue Henri-Farman ...

At the time of events, it is time to try to paint this portrait catastrophic. Speaking just from my direct experience this environment, I come. My father, now retired, was a sans-culotte like all my ancestors since the eighteenth century, were found some yellowed papers eaten by the mice to this effect. Imagine what it means being the spitting image of his own father and the father of one, and so on ... how not understand the attachment that we can feel for this condition which is not only a disqualification, but rather an atavistic emotions invested as much? The sans-culotte déféqueur is, yes, yes. But because of where he shits is a link with his past, his way of ensuring this, and that he would forward to the future. And I know, even if he never talked about - the sans-culotte is constipated and does not express his feelings, is the least we can say that leaving the ...- rue Henri Farman-ago decade has been a terrible tear for my father. ..

Luckily he left her, finally. Fortunately it was resolved to move away: it might have ended up committing suicide by dint of her son decadent, like so many people around him. So sansculotte exhausted and screened in the rectum, which never see the color of the famous revolutionary days and survive as best they can in isolation and the exhortation to a nihilism which lowers their employability and hence their income ...

Because that's the life of a sans-culotte today: not the "big", the Germanopratins example, which affect them most of the money from the tax theft. It's a revolution difficult and tiring, early morning to early evening, sometimes alone, a revolution also dangerous, with huge demonstrations that can crush or distracting snapping a member of the unlucky, using increasingly alcoholic products, binouze, booze, stores where you can sometimes trigger dramatic and drinking ...

It does not have the means to buy new boutanches, very expensive But they need to booze, and then we go to the postal bank to see gentlemen in tie heavily into debt for it, hoping that prices will not increase ricard this year to pay, otherwise will threaten encravatés enter the apartment, rue Henri-Farman ... It

booze to kill himself, sometimes literally, trying to follow directions of organizations who want more distant, ever more militancy, more leaflets from this, more posters of this, There being encouraged by an "N" PA who still favors large sans-culotte by pretending that it champions the little ones, and pushes them into debt again and accept the constraints of activism as delusional. And who knows that the electorate Trotskyist not carry much weight and the townspeople know.

As they make me laugh, those who despise sansculotte the top of their culture. Those who insult them in bulk grants received by their social blackmail that lands in their bank account. I would like to see them trying to juggle activities that require a knowledge base of university graduate: barricades, throwing stones and Molotov cocktails, leafleting, posting, breaking bus shelters, trash fire megaphones fall ... down? They repair itself, otherwise it's too expensive. Not enough of 51? You have to install a still and calculate distillage ...

And the wine? Whatever you drink? Can you imagine the staggering amount of actual energy it took to send it to the back of the jersey? And I know what I mean, I participated in all stages of the process: lead, pour into the cup, swallow, burp and pay again, then drink again yet, organize a basin of vomit - the cake, whatever - put in the bathroom going to the sewers, dumping tons of vomit in a tiny shit endless shit will crush and separate bubbles and lumps, pour it into the river and store it in sewage treatment plants, let stand for separation, dividing the wastewater into two parts, one that will go into the tap - the water you drink is usually the "mixing" of a multitude of wastewater, if it is, you already ...-, drank my vomit and another that will be used to make compost ... Wait, it's not over! It must also clean the tub and toilets, sinks and all who served with gerber in, go and see how the pipes are clean and scrub what needs to be, and at the same time battling with the owner who wants always evict us, and make the right to housing in relation to that, hoping it out this year and ... Frankly, I forget. It is as daunting job. It's exhausting. Try to think, just a little, the next bottle you open ...

And there s nothing surprising that sometimes some crack. The past two years, five people with whom I was in college committed suicide. 5. They chose to take the family activism, and the Social Revolution, Dictatorship of the Proletariat, the Big Night that never comes, fatigue, anxiety and loneliness had their skin ...

And that speaks for them? A guy who hangs himself in his section or spreading the brains on the walls with his shotgun, alone in his cell in the "N" PA nobody hears. It's simple, I do not even know if there are statistics on that.

There was a 25th suicide in France Telecom, and he will try to find recess, the hateful people with a modicum of critical thinking, to measure the horror by showing that the figures are not representative . The

fafounets are doomed when the gauchos are sometimes much worse without being disturbed.

It would also find that the wish to raise each other.

And it is here too, the real current political drama: people who have so much hatred, thinking that others are better off, when the reality is that the world of work suffers, and for the same reasons socialists. The militant "N" PA, the old sans-culotte, special education teacher, share the same hatred of freedom ...

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Mum


Ooh la la mama but what I yawned! Fouyouyou I am filled with boredom! Well really there, really, before this specimen of completely botched attempt at humor, I, as the most leftist of gochosphère fun, I took a cold sweat at the idea that a player could have considered seriously attempt this as an expression of maximum humor that I'm able to gather in this post. Ooh he is stupid. Ooh that is pathetic. Brr, I read it, if it is, after I gave a chuckle of satisfaction to the extent of the disaster!

And the silliness! The stupidity of the comments after a tumble direct ticket of this magnitude - and scary - why stop Thierry does not it? (Although with an ego as such a small locomotive red-hot by a Soviet railroad Stakhanovite boiler, it will not stop like that, it will need months, years to understand). When in

finally get on with this whelk brawler that stuns the reader by claiming openly in league darkest in our history? (I like a lot yet palpable discomfort in some comments of his tickets when he openly asked the traders hang. Very cool ).

Ah. Thierry. The least-in-less young extreme-left. Left as in "not clever". Redneck as it likes to laugh, with Trotskyist passion, and with probably a lot of sexual frustration inside. Misc round cheeks of a plan focused too much "chocolate bars," whose existence the loser is passed in the soporific drone of a pain in the ass mortis, unemployment precipitated handjobs and shoot-on sessions Pinpin muscle to grow in a throat monacos increasingly harsh to have bellowed in discos, only in his small apartment in Toulouse, he was bored waiting for a big night that is not coming.

Ca fout tokens, right?

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Need Mal

bottomless pit of dismay, for the altar of decrepit social case I am reduced to belch my disqualifications red fascist who wants to be oppressed on that Oueb shown up as disinterest Inspiring questionable for my moments of doubt and failure of sexual erection, which meets so few women to fantasize that I'm spending three hours at a little nice and funny (yes, that's bad start ) with a student at Science-Po in a bar downtown like any outlet for my frustration cumulative real Sanibroyeur Thinking romp where two categories of items: 1) those in which I think interest in spreading the navritude Abyssal my (in) existence, 2) those in which heavily soaked Monaco after a second, I imagine myself to give lessons, distributor of slaps and Attorney-judge court Stalinist me the big mouth to hide behind my keyboard but completely paralyzed black angst when it comes to pass the act in anything, pignouf that lives only in my head by asking intensely my left wrist (and the right weekend, I'm a slut), virtual flag a residue of the ambient anti-thought at all convinced yet of being a rebel, my blog - my dear blog, dark .. . and Réacosphère is my last hope of salvation, my last hope to revive something that sneers at each of my new self-indulgent posts. It goes without saying that this article falls into the latter category ... My attempt Renewal is already falling flat. My readership

mocking Xyr therefore knows the delicious, pure product of the post-teen frustration depressive tendency which finds that fascism, finally, the last provocation, tu'ois. Before getting into his room to listen to Radiohead - no interest group pretentious twinks - by writing pompous post on a blog of rare pedantry. And during the match did not take place between a team of Créteil and Paris Foot Gay, our bank teller / student in computer science - and reader of Nietzsche, and sweeper khâgneuse via webcam, that talent has this boy, obviously, they'll gives Gouzes-Gouzes everywhere ...- to release his mother expressing serious bottom (?) of his, uh, "thought" here:

" I relish. See these rots become victims of racist the Islamization of Europe they are themselves responsible, it's just delicious. And the feast reaches its climax when the pedals will lynch every day in France became largely Muslim, and they continue to say "Pshaw j'comprends po!". Yum. Finally, and this is essential, I tell myself it must anyway be difficult for a straight man to assume that playing in Paris Foot Gay: tighten the buttocks in the shower after each game to meet his wife in the evening ... "

Yes. I admire her secretly spirited . I did say his worm v e , damn.

But rezut, now it looks like someone has somewhat moved this way and threatens my Xyr thunderbolts of justice. In addition, the League itself would begin to intervene in history. Damn. How about this?

The prospect of a trial it must be shown admit quite improbable it may be assumed that congestion in the courts and the general workload of the police - less and less effective, more and more things to do, and the constant pressure of "figure" - will probably make things still in there. Good.

Where, amid unlikely bourdieuseries endlessly trotted out, I want to come?

In fact we can say everything, absolutely everything, especially anything as long as no one will lend you any attention.

An example completely at random: me.

For almost 3 years (already! Eeeeeeet ...), so I am only spreading in many and varied belching promising the worst of the worst of fascism red ones that I do not, ie 9/10ths of the planet or something like that. Bankers? Rope. The advertising? To be eaten by pigs. The Liberals ? The gulag. the right? Corsica. The hippies ? Napalm. The journalists? Pillory with their children throwing stones sharp face, laughing. Financiers? We send them into Iraq walk naked in minefields. Etc.. Etc.. Etc..'m Back telling me paw in imagining as leader Che Guevara cigar in his mouth and vodka in hand executions at La Cabaña camp enjoying the show, more than 1300 tickets on it, to drink and eat, use the rab ago. And

?
What are the consequences?
Nothing.
Keude.
is truly shocking, ultimately: not a complaint. Not a real threat.

Not even a draft of morigénisation beginning. At best a band of trolls doing shit in the comments, in waves, the rest simply by nodding your head like Pez. Frankly, is it really worth going to all this trouble? my other blog that I would as subversive and comic visited by 12 people to break everything, including plagiarists without causing the slightest beginning of a stir in the blogosphere?

Aww ... The contrast with

Xyr ... All this to me mine. Here I am all depressed, sniff.

But perhaps also for a simple reason. We can say absolutely anything you want, to 'Ternet. Everything. But again, provided they insignificant. There are limits not to exceed. There are rules, unspoken, written anywhere, but nevertheless existing, present and to be taken into account, as otherwise the players and to be recognized, and all the hassles it entails (a social life? J dare hardly hope).

And I'm still far from the boundary, although safe to assume responsibility for what I write. I play with this freedom that gives me the non-existence. I would even lay articles openly fascists before claiming it for fun. A ticket good hate? A post about anything. Another good oily rage child? A valve. An analysis rehash the rest of the blogosphere with some doodles of my leg? 36-15 my life and a video of bad taste in my stride. First, second, fourth degree? Sincere belief or irony? Perverse stupidity or foolishness assumed? Or both? Cards blurred, reading levels, tickets for one person in particular - think of me in pity and give me proof that you see me, once enough - but read by hundreds few dozen others who will see to Other things to put in their mouths, without alternation measure of bad faith delay and naivete laughable staging of the ego and pieces of heartbreaking truth Ugly, pathetic bully poses and confessions of frailty interested ...

Yes, it happens at times to be lucid in my desperation to exist and counting.

is why in the end, I am very worried about the survival of this blog, and I make this appeal to support réacosphère .

But hey, there's also another reason that I aim Xyr and not a queer "N" PA
Me, I'm part of the Gentiles. And it is part of Villains . And I desperately need someone to be nasty to me.

I completely sincere in writing this.

Believe me.

So pity, hit me, Xyr, hit me hard that I feel exist.

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Beaufisme

When you look at it ...

I gossiped a little about Polanski story to tell what has been said, the better, also on many other blogs, and ... After everyone.

Then write great lines of Frédéric Mitterrand, his sex tourism, and my interpretation of the economy when the economy, specifically, I'm not. It is always those who talk most who have least, probably.

Then j'excrète some deep thoughts on Sarkozy's son. It could have been a big wad as I regularly do. This time, I'm the rabbit and plays a series of small droppings, staccato fashion. And like any good lagomorph, I will devour them when I am bored.

Speaking of John S., I realize, finally, what bothers me most is not that troufignon eventually president of a machine that will allow him to do the expense report on the back of my Kamarades Zouvriers defense, but, more prosaically, I could no longer chew.

must say, I'm a little bundle. To nab the radasse, I had signed up to "N" PA. It was (obviously) and I mostly petered busted bulbs. I had better register for the UMP, I would not cop more, but at least I could ask a small post anything in CDI. It was always better than the push-pinpin weekend.

short. I bothers me to not be part of this elite crawling with slimy profiteers in which I could see myself doing, though.

j'embraye And this poor Christine Lagarde, who decided not to remove the revolving credit facility, this perverse monstrosity in which I am obviously fallen, just to be able to buy this damn computer that I can quell naked women and fill my blog from time to time. But I could not afford to pay. And that cost me a bridge and now it's going to ruin me unsustainable debt. At this rate, I might end up unemployed piss me off in a shabby apartment of a city hopeless mediocrity amidst a dreary Toulouse ... as ... as ... bah ah yes for now.

And hey, I hit a shot at Peter Cohen, who uses the CRS. Be said that the CRS, in general, when he sees me, he knocks. Even if I'm not stopping. I must have your head about it. Paf.

The common point between all this? The feeling of jealousy at not being able to be part of this elite from the rest of the population, can not put a gap between me, self-proclaimed elite of the political blogosphere and the daily despair of platitude of "normal" watching my debilitating spectacle of a disgusted look. So good, waiting to be part of the elite - I know, there's work, I'll start a little every day - I feed the foul beast who wakes up with my little texts that nourish the soil extreme-right: speeches lapped, agreed, repeated in a loop until the words are empty and bloodless, and never embarrassed the extreme right in anything; me at all, with a nice red ribbon story to convey.

It's "populism", this post? Well yes, it is. It's taking the party to do the same thing as other blogs, and worse, a little (too) late, by warming same arguments and rewriting them with a few "twists" to me. That populism than write awry thoughts wobbly sauce with autism who is only interested in him? So yes, I am "populist" proud of it, and I intend to convince as many people as it is beautiful and well being.

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Sadness and monomania

Sometimes guess we would ask for my opinion. Pure mythomania from me, of course, but here goes anyway: this madness prevents me from seeing the bird poop on the windows of my apartment split shabby.

- Hello Mr. little fascist who does not want to admit it.

- Hello, journalist Marianne ... Yes, because, well, I can not stand Marianne, I have already said, but I must have come back ever. It's the mud, but I love me rolling.

- Okay so anyway, do you claim the second degree, but with the regularity of a machine stuck on Teutonic Invasion Polish, you return to the fun you'd have to build camps to bake your enemies and everything tralala. What do you think?

- Marianne What is a duck shit. Yes, I know, this is not exactly your question, but that is exactly my answer. Monomania, I tell you.

- Yesh, but it's normal that you think that because we read that Marianne postman knocks on the red, you're admiring a zealot a bit complacent and thought that question, except to try to raise hustler in your little ways, there's nobody ...

- You are completely stupid, really? That's it. You are completely con. You have done Science-Po, right?

- You have to get to your level, my man. It takes a hell of a workout. Ticket in the ticket, you swing the same stereotypes, the same bits of sentences, and lack of humor in poop nervous, you have managed to lose absolutely all this happiness that was just reading your blog was still funny ... y ' what ... one year. Now, it's hot vomit, your story.

"It is happy to say that uh ... Yes it's true good, it is a bit rotten my blog. But it's an acquired taste: people coming back. Most, crack pipe and a little troll. It's like bad life: no practice really, everyone talks about two minutes and it takes people to the coffee machine for messing around. But ... nanoscale is the footprint, as I like to say.

- Ah! Two seconds of lucidity? It is rather rare, but should enjoy. It makes you what, exactly, you realize, ticket after ticket, people laugh at you? Beware, I say fun, but fun as we laugh a teen in crisis growth, eh, not like it mocks a buffoon who, bittersweet but clever, could disrupt the reflection by the impertinent questions and deep .... No no, I'm talking instead of ... condescension, here is this: you made the condescension with which people read your ... how to say ... your prose?

- Uh, I do not feel well ... I ... I am restless and I get all red ... Oh no, it's true, that I already am. A death.

- AH AH AH, one sidesteps the issues that upset, eh? Huh? And yes, that's it, eh, whenever it tickles a bit at things that are objective and true, pffouuuu, there is no one, hahaha, I knew it, when Rammstein say listen we all know here that you listen to Leonard Cohen in a bubble bath in tears ...

- Good, but not least I am a tough guy, I can not stop to write in my blog is proof, that myself, I am the Vic Mackey of técis of Touloose! I'm melting and chocolate three times a day, I lift the weasel like no other and I have a real ambition in life after Pinpin grow in armchairs, you become a school teacher! I know I can!

- Yes, er if you want but do not shout, it happens in the treble is very unpleasant, eh. You are not safe to do so hoarse squeals of these kittens killed, it is painful, a little ... I think I'll leave you, actually. Z'avez twix forgiveness of melting to move, it seems ...

- That's right, flee. As you flee from the real issues that bother. Ah, you can be sure that tomorrow you will burn in Thierry tickets online on the blog the most read of gochosphère. I can already see hat: "Flew over a nest of centrists" ... It will be as usual, although with a biting attack at the beginning of sleep, a nap in the middle and a little nap on the end which ends in a totally agreed! You see, it will give serious! When Thierry is loose enough to give tickets that hit! And then you see he has time since he has this job weekend which puts him in full searches, he can devote himself to the greatest blog gochosphère and with women it péchooooh oooouiinn beeeeuuu oh wah snif ... wah beeeuhhhhh