Wednesday, March 19, 2008


Rule number one in non-violent protest: always grease up your poncho.

Jesus Christ, you’re trying to stop a war, not get on “Let’s Make a Deal.”

How can you expect people to respect your views on foreign policy when you’re dressed like a drunk, unemployed tooth fairy?

“War sucks!"
"I know. Are you on the satellite stage or the main one tonight?”

Fuck you for degrading the anti-war movement into a street party just because you were born too late to be a hippy or go to a real rave.

“I thought once we reached a certain age, we wouldn’t have to bail out Mom anymore.”

If this war is killing mimes, all of the sudden I’m for it.

Bike cops don’t take well to being challenged to a silly hat contest.

If his parents knew what he did with the money they send him every month, they’d shit a golden republican brick.

The ecstasy got him high this morning, but the paint fumes have kept him there all afternoon.

Toby was psyched to get arrested, because it finally legitimized his dread-nots.

That’s adorable.

Cut and run in Iraq, cut and run jacket sleeves

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