Permanent Tax Haven

Girls, girls, girls. It's going to be a two-seater and my big oval track. We'll ride around on the ground, and trapped you'll be. Bitch, bitch, bitch, and don't dare take the headphones off, or I might, you know, do something I'm not fully qualified to do.

Did I see what I just saw? President Negro, the great liberal, is going to extend the Bush tax cuts? May I run for president, please? All that needs to be done is roll the tax code back to Nixon-era (yes, he was a Republican) numbers, and "we" (excuse me, I'm a private citizen, like Howard) might just be awash in tax revenue cash. Meantime, the tragedy of my life continues, but the troops have stocked-up on 600 mg TYLENOL & 600 mg IBUPROFEN.

Torture? In the USA? Naw, we're just a bunch of drug addicts, like my grandfather. Let's don't get into who sold arms to the Nazis and who was building stuff for the U.S. Army. Was that a Russian soldier boy with those cool tennies? Tanks in Berlin? Not yet, Angela? Have they tested the air raid sirens in Bogata?

Keep me posted.