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From my youth up I never liked the city.
I never forgot the mountains where I was born.
The world caught me and harnessed me
And drove me through dust, thirty years away from home.
Migratory birds return to the same tree.
Fish find their way back to the pools where they were hatched.
I have been over the whole country,
And I have come back at last to the garden of my childhood.
My farm is only ten acres.
The farm house has eight or nine rooms.
Elms and willows shade the back garden.
Peach trees stand by the front door.
The village is out of sight.
You can hear dogs bark in the alleys,
And cocks crow in the mulberry trees.
When you come through the gate into the court
You will find no dust or mess.
Peace and quiet live in every room.
I am content to stay here the rest of my life.
At last I have found myself.
— Tao Yuan Ming (Tao Qian) Chinese, 365-427
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That was very funny, but he’s past help.
https://mobile.twitter.com/ontarioisproud/status/966413174424584192/video/1
Megyn’s got nothing on him. I rest my case.
https://youtu.be/wgX-RQZpJZk
.308
North America’s finest, a community organizer and now an Indian dancer.
There’s no hope for him ever finding his balls, but his condition does have a cure!
We’d have to hurry, as the practicioners that administer the cure are dwindling rapidly (President Trump is driving them out,) but there are still a few around the badlands of Iraq and Syria: they’re known as ISIS.
The cure is a simple one, all it requires is for Justin to lose his head; it’s not like he has any use for it anyway, and he’d look even better- and sound much more sensible!- without it. So off you go, Justin, to your happy beheading! If you ask nicely, I’m sure they’ll give you a certificate!
If they can just vote him out next election, then all of Canadia will find its testicles, descending as it were, from nowhere. if not, Balless they shall ever be.
BEHEADING’S Okay…. but I was sort of hoping we could get him to wear a hat made of pink mist instead.
If I look REAL HARD, I think I can find him my lucky bottlecap.
He is so offputtingly girlish. Oh my, no. And yet so confident and at ease in himself.
Sic transit gloria mundi. Such ridiculous people in positions of power at a time when sobriety is essential. Dance clown, dance.
Soak him in brine and brown sugar, and put him in the smokehouse.
A month oughta do.