"Presto" is the best magic word

The Angry Czeck is a bit like Superman: He disappears for a significant time, then reappears more pretentious than ever.

The nation is in an uproar because the President used the word “shit” to describe Syria’s policies. Hysterical Democrats rejoice. Personally, I can’t stand President Bush. But he’s right about Syria. Those guys are complete shits.

Many in the media wonder why the United States isn’t taking a more active role in encouraging diplomacy in the latest Middle East dust-up. Man, this is a region that burns down embassies over a cartoon. This is a region that booby traps the severed heads of teenage girls with explosives. I’m fairly certain that Bush is telling his pals in Israel, “Good luck with that.”

Received a taste of the Arkansas state tax on my most recent pay check. Why anybody opposes a state lottery is a mystery to the Angry Czeck. Come on. It’s a Dumb People Tax. Let the dumb pave the roads and buy textbooks. I think that’s fair.

The United States is a region where four soldiers die in Iraq and nobody blinks an eye, but a race horse with a broken legs makes national headlines. Horse racing has to be the most ridiculous pastime ever invented. We root for an animal to win so that a millionaire can be seen administering poorly executed high-fives on national television. Stop being suckers, America. Barbaro is a horse, and if you weren’t slobbering so heavily, its rich owners would have sold it to Elmers the second it broke its leg. Don’t wince. Everybody needs glue.

Hi, Kids. Say hello to Barbaro.

It’s inconceivable to me that people continue to use their checkbook to pay for groceries. Get…a goddamn…check card you moronic caveman! It wouldn’t irk me so badly if, when the items were fully tallied, Mr. Checkbook would have his antiquated method of payment waiting and ready. Nope. The checkout girl aways says, “$45.89” and only then does it occur to Mr. Checkbook to dig out his checkbook from his pocket, flip through his goddamn checks, ask the girl for a pen, fill the check out (“What was that amount again?”), tear out the check, hand it to the girl, record the amount in his register (“What was the amount again? What was the check number?”), wait for the check to process, and then finally leave the aisle. Please, for all of humanity, get a goddamn check card. Why does this technology intimidate you? Is it the burden of remembering a PIN number? Are you allergic to convenience? Or do you simply enjoy holding the rest of us back? I don’t really want to know, so don’t tell me.

All I want you to do is go to your bank, and get a goddamn check card.


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