The Battered Wife Syndrome Streak In The Liberty Movement Vol IVSubmitted by Smudge Pot on Sat, 02/23/2013 - 23:20
(contintued) from http://www.dailypaul.com/275773/the-battered-wife-syndrome-s...)
"We've arrived Mr. Beck."
As he strode alone up the grey and parched stone stairs, the grey skies reflected back down within him the thirst, the internal and unquenchable thirst that had become his life's blood, seeping endlessly through fragmenting masonry like old promises that nobody kept. A stone, a cold stone.
"Now let's give you more of a flush today shall we Mr. Beck? Always looking good for the cameras and here's your fresh latte just the way you like it! Warm and fresh!"
Cold, lonely and alone, the sage sat in the torture chairs of his enemies, unafraid, unbent, unbroken, guided at all times by the truth in his heart. That distant memory. That whisp of a fragrance. That one note of laughter that still rang like a single smoldering coal in the distant and remote and destroyed wreckage of his heart, burning, burning, buring like the song of a long forgotten tribe in...in....
hey you, yes you, pencil neck, get me everything you know about tribes in Borneo stat or you are fired yes FIRED and you will never work in this industry again I'M GLENN BECK.
Now then...he sat...now wait, he struggled heroically against his restraints as he was wheeled out naked and bronzed, his smooth muscles rippling beneath tanned skin as he flexed his pecs, abs, lats, gluts, and the assembled throng marvelled at his manhood which had to be wheeled in by servant
boys girls men men, women, boys and girls on a little red wagon and just as they wheeled him out he gathered up all of his strength and SHOUTED....