The press might want to stop trying to milk this one.

Mama Moonbat and Her Multitudes

30 people? I’ve had orgies bigger than that, and I don’t recall getting phone calls from Murdoch over it, either. In fact, through most of the “summer” here, there was some sad-assed march against the Hartz IV welfare reforms, which involved somehow making people actually fill out more forms to keep getting unemployment checks. Every Monday night, the teeming masses of about 20 or 30 people would march through the town square to the train station, with some buffoon up front shouting rhyming missives about Schröder or something through a megaphone. And I always wondered to myself, usually through a beery haze, if he really saw himself as some sort of revolutionary figure, with the streaming red banners of the International Communist Conspiracy waving all about, black confetti falling from the medieval buildings around them, as the oppressed volk breathe a sigh of relief that they finally have a voice. Instead, I mean, of the 20 or 30 bongo-playing dopeheads who were shouting, incoherently, his dumbass rhymes back at him, to the derisive hootin’ and hollerin’ of the Monday-night Maximilian-Strasse promenaders, with the intention of getting their $2000.00 a month benefits extended past the 3-year limit.

What a bunch of fucking parasites.