The other day, Turtle Boy posted a piece about some wastoid staggering around the streets of Worcester, and this led to the discovery of how there is some local idiot politician who believes that doing anything from a government perspective to curtail panhandling somehow equates impinging on free speech rights.
You can go to his article for the details, but the point here is there are Tracy Novick’s everywhere, and this sort of soft-headed thinking exemplifies them. What’s important to note here isn’t just that this type of thinking is prevalent amongst these libtards;as I mentioned in a comment to that post they’ve successfully created an argument which says not giving money to artists is somehow also a free speech issue. In other words, the concept here is that free speech exists in a world where somebody else gets to pick up the tab. That’s the key to how this shit comes about.
You’ve got to understand this garbage comes from the very top of the libtard food-chain. The perfect example comes from a story that I SWEAR TO GOD didn’t come from The Onion.
First, just try to tell me this isn’t an Onion-style headline.
Obama Slams Billionaires at the Home of a Guy Named Rich Richman
Of course, you click that link and think you’re getting a fake story; then you want to weep for the future of this country when you realize it is painfully true. Trust me, it doesn’t get better from here.
President Obama blasted Republicans as the party of “billionaires” on Tuesday while mingling with high-rollers at the $26 million estate of Rich Richman — yes, that’s his real name — in Greenwich, Conn.
Richman, who built his $10 billion company developing rental housing, lives in the Conyers Farm area, where the minimum lot size is 10 acres. Twenty-five donors paid $32,400 each to get their photo taken with the president. Others paid $10,000 for dinner.
I’m pretty sure I don’t need to point out the glaring hypocrisy in those words, but I will anyway. While you are wrapping your brain around that lofty load of horseshit, consider that while there are many uber-wealthy Republicans in Congress, there are just as many (if not more) who are Democrats. You know this Richman guy didn’t vote for Mitt Romney, but you can bet your ass he’s given plenty of money to some other multi-millionaires who share his libtard ideals. You can double-down on that bet with the fact the Democrats have a mailing list a mile long of guys like Richman.
While Obama was schmoozing — and the press pool was playing billiards in the basement — he was also soliciting donations for House Democrats in an e-mail.
“If Republicans win, we know who they’ll be fighting for,” Obama said. “Once again, the interests of billionaires will come before the needs of the middle class.”
In order to make this clear to even the libtardiest Tracy Novick type, go back to the last block quote. Obama is in a room full of rich guys telling you how evil rich people are, while standing under a roof built by a rich guy. Not to mention the rich guy who built the roof made his money fleecing the lower and middle class with rental property and mortgage banking. Guess what? None of the people upon whom Richman built his empire were in that room.
Do you see the problem here, Tracy? My guess is no, so I’m going to give this another shot.
Obama arrived from New York City — where he had attended a fundraiser with hedge-fund billionaires George Soros and Paul Tudor Jones — in a convoy of four helicopters that landed at the Greenwich Polo Club.
A motorcade of helicopters landing at a polo club. Yeah, that just screams “help the poor.” The problem here is the reception of the message; in a world of flat-screen Hi-Def televisions, the Tracy Novicks of the world are a 1975 Curtis Mathes with a broken vertical hold knob. You simply must be that far out of tune to think that a hypocritical asshole like Obama gives a shit about anybody but himself, let alone poor people. Whether you are a libtard or a conservadick, it’s time to realize the level of American politics where anything actually gets done is little more than a game of Hungry Hungry Hippos with those big bags of cash with the dollar signs on them being flung about, and the only seats at the table are filled by by guys whose throats are so choked with money they can only emit guttural noises like “GIMMEH!”
The only difference between the Tracy Novicks of the world and that camouflage-overalls wearing guy who is holed up in a shack in the woods is the message they are receiving. They hear what they want to out of “GIMMEH!” In other words, In Tracy Novick’s ear, “GIMMEH!” means people like the Worcester Zombie have a right to be a complete wastoid, and so that right isn’t impinged in any way, you get to pay for it.
Sure, that makes no sense, but neither does crying about the plight of the poor while standing in front of an ice-sculptured swan consuming your own weight in goose liver pate and Dom Perignon.