I saw the editorial of that jackass who writes for the New York Times who called the Brits that vote for Brexit, dogs running in the street. My. God bless those independent thinkers who will not hold with their being dictated to by a bunch of elitist clowns in Brussels.. Now this writer himself is an elitist clown, who denigrates anyone that does not share his opinion, elevating himself beyond the pale as all knowing, not everyday people, when to be frank, his excrement flows out into the Hudson along with taxi drivers, clerks, fast food workers and the like. And of course, descendants of Arthur Miller.
God bless this brave people who basically gave the middle finger to this elitist incompetents. God help them. God help us and deliver us from a presidency with that hateful hag, evil hag, crooked, lying hag, Hillary Clinton and once again having the Clinton trash back in the White House.
Now, on a personal note. I think what has hurt me the most through all of this is that you are now an elitist and have been for the last twenty years. You became one when you tried to rationalize your great sin and you know what I mean into that you were not wrong, you were of the world, you were of the intelligentsia and found a jackass enabler to help you out with this. And my dear, as long as you stay with her, you will remain an elitist in my eyes, a mold you have remolded yourself into to fit where it is not a natural fit. I think of the stories that have propelled you to where you are–a gay punk prince running a laundormat; a handicapped, poverty-stricken genius; a rugged bare bones frontiersman; a gentleman fighting against rigid, dare I say, elitist conformity; an unjustly prisoned working class bloke; a humble woodcutter who became President. There in your Connecticut corridor of the elite, I wonder do you ever feel like a fish out of water. Because, mark me, as Prince Charlie would say, as long as you are with that demented Thing, you are part of the elitist movement. I’m just wondering when you’re going to stop testing your endurance and exulting in what you think is misguided strength to wake up.