I walk down the street with a gun in my pants whenever I might feel like it for so many reasons. Perhaps chief among them is that I have zero respect for that federal entity’s “legal system.”

That once-beautiful machine is like some great foreign apparatus on an alien planet, constructed by whom and for what purposes the human explorers can only speculate. So they start stabbing their fat fingers at it and fiddling with the knobs. The finely tuned machine, subject to this abuse, shudders and groans and throws sparks everywhere, destroying itself and its unskilled operators in a great, blinding flash.

The United States legal system was destroyed by unskilled operators who didn’t understand that moral authority is the power source by which the machine functions. When the machine’s operations are unskillfully directed toward prosecuting color-of-law frauds, the system loses moral authority, and it loses respect, and it loses the ability to command anything of anyone.

Greasy lawyers, talking their greasy words of art, destroyed the United States legal system by bamboozling everyone and pulling quarters out of people’s ears and playing “Got your nose!”

I’ve proven to everyone’s satisfaction here in my theater that the federal personal income tax is largely a color-of-law fraud. Fully ninety-nine percent of the people in this country are in no way liable for the tax. And the IRS knows that. And the Justice Department knows that. But do you think that will stop the prosecutions for so-called tax evasion and willful failure to file? Of course not.

And that is why I completely disregard United States “law.” I have zero respect for the federal legal system. It’s not about me; it’s about you. It’s not about my being a bad man or a terriss. It’s about you constituting inexpert operators of that once-beautiful machine. Why, we have Chief Justices of the United States Supreme Court who don’t even know what a tax is. How could Obamacare possibly be a tax if avoiding the tax is a legal impossibility, an avenue of avoidance being a definitional component of an indirect tax? The man is either stupid or crooked, I’m not sure which.

That federal entity’s “legal system” is such a disingenuous parade of idiocy that the Justice Department could indict me all day long for anything and I wouldn’t even show up. That’s how much respect I have for that “legal system.” I’ve got better things to do with my time than to be delayed in my personal business even long enough to address “indictments” lodged by that crack whore. By precisely what moral authority does the town crack whore indict anyone of anything?

Judge, did you install a foosball table in your chamber like I suggested? I have another idea: You know how there’s the marble basin at the door at the Catholic church with holy water in it? And the parishioners dab a finger in it and anoint themselves in the sign of the cross? Well, I think that federal judges should place used cooking grease at the entrance to the court house. It doesn’t have to be in anything so ornate as a marble basin. Just put an old Tupperware container on a pedestal by the door. You can get old Tupperware containers for free sometimes, like at a yard sale when the sale is over and the leftover junk that didn’t sell gets put on a card table by the side of the road with a “Free” sign on it.

And you can get used cooking grease for free, too. So this is something that you can do even if there’s nothing in the budget. You can get dirty old cooking oil from whatever fast food restaurant. They get rid of it all the time. And then you can put the filthy Tupperware container on a pedestal by the door and just pour the dirty cooking oil into it, even if it’s got leftover pieces of charred french fry in it. The lawyers won’t mind.

And when the lawyers come in for work that day, they just anoint themselves with their holy water. Like the woman in the soap commercial who smiles and splashes water from the basin and onto her face in the expectation of receiving renewed beauty, the filthy beasts who will speak before you that day can smile ecstatically as they splash filthy cooking oil all over their faces. And then they’ll be as greasy as everyone maintains they are.

And then you can nod sagely as they knowingly prosecute their color-of-law frauds, like putting people in jail for failing to pay a tax they are in no way supposed to pay. And everyone knows that now. Thanks for the stage.

So is Ding Dong Diction United States going to halt all pending prosecutions for so-called tax evasion and willful failure to file? Of course not.

Are you gonna spring that elderly couple in New Hampshire who holed up on their property a few years ago as United States animals roamed the woods like jackals in pursuit of prey who were in no way liable for the tax in the first place? Of course not.

I do not expect those things to happen, because those things are not in that jurisdiction’s nature. Much like I had zero expectation of ever receiving compensation for my stolen ham radio, it was enough for me that the thieves knew that I knew.

You know that I know. And that is enough for me.

When I confronted those thieves about my ham radio, and once they knew that I knew, their eyes fell to their shoes. They couldn’t look me in the eye. And they stood mute.

A jurisdiction is a moral person, for reasons I have already explained. This means that it is bound by the same laws which govern human interaction. When a jurisdiction knows that one knows, its eyes fall to its shoes and it stands mute. That is the very definition of losing jurisdiction.

I guarantee you that I would never be indicted for anything because no one in that courtroom would want to face me. No one would want to feel the inexorable weight pulling their eyes to the floor and sealing their mouths. It’s just so embarrassing to know that someone knows.

As I’ve said before, Judge, you were the sole fount of pure non-idiocy in that courtroom. But if the inexpert operators of that once-beautiful machine were unwisely to indict me for anything, I’d just stand there. I wouldn’t say anything. I would just allow my heavy-lidded gaze to compel your eyes to fall to the floor. And then you’d throw your pen across the room and tell me to get out of your courtroom. And that would be that.

So if that crack whore of a nondiction, with its greasy, filthy, inexpert operators, ever wants to assemble the moral authority once again to speak on any legal matter, I suggest that you halt all pending prosecutions for tax evasion and willful failure to file, crimes which ninety-nine percent of the indicted could not even theoretically have committed, considering that the Sixteenth Amendment never conferred the new taxing authority that the IRS disingenuously claims that it did.


Senator, I’m bored. Bomb threats, death threats, jail; nothing satisfies.

Why am I a nonperson? Why is United States scared of me? Is it because I’m a one-man Pandora’s Box of Horrors? Is it because I seem to get away without paying federal income tax for twenty years?

And why is that, Senator? Is it because I’m your constituent? Is it because of my drop-dead gorgeous good looks? No, don’t be silly, Senator. It’s because the federal income tax is a color-of-law fraud. Like so much over at that “juris” “diction.”

I remember fondly when I went to law school. I studied in the basement of Stetson University one summer for the price of a library card. There was all these smelly ol’ books that no one had any interest in, the junk that wouldn’t have had any place in the law library upstairs, the unfashionable underpinnings of American jurisprudence that have no place in law today.

And who could blame the librarian, Senator? There was only so much shelf space in the library upstairs, only so much room for the titles in demand by today’s paying law school student, titles such as “How to Drain the System Dry in Three Easy Lawsuits,” “Defiling Your Environment by Opening Your Mouth,” and “Buckling Down the Leather Straps: Criminal Defense and You.”

No, Senator; I had no interest in polluting decent society with my mere existence. I instead wanted to know the law. So I studied those yucky old books that had been printed and bound in the Eighteenth Century, books such as “The Principles of Natural Law in Which the True Syftems of Morality and Civil Government Are Eftablifhed,” written by one Mister Burlamaqui, Counfellor of State and Profeffor of Natural and Civil Law at Geneva, published in 1748. I painstakingly photocopied the entire book and bound it. It sits here in my lap as I address you.

Say, does Idiot Nondiction United States regard such a book as a terrorism manual? Well it should, because it seems that a knowledge of the fundamentals of law, wielded by the astute layman, might threaten to upend the entire fraudulent system. So I certainly hope that the Department of Homeland Security have accorded me the honor of placing me at the top of their terror list. I am a holy terror. So they’ve gotten it right for once.

And I studied the internal revenue code that one summer. If you’ll permit me to rework a tired old construction for my own purposes, I’ll tell you that I truly have forgotten more about the income tax than your tax attorney will ever know. The entire internal revenue code is a color-of-law fraud. It appears that bankers hired lawyers to ply their flim-flammery and pollute the legal system with greasy words of art like “employer,” “employee,” “taxpayer,” and “income,” the meanings of some of which your assiduous study would never reveal! Isn’t it great? The mere breath of a lawyer is like a rust accelerant; merely by speaking do lawyers corrode and corrupt the legal system. They’re like auto mechanics who cause disease and decay in the very machines they are charged with servicing. That’s one peculiar guild of yours, Senator.

Here’s the dirty little secret of the federal income tax: Filing a tax return creates the legal nexus between the otherwise unencumbered natural person and the income tax. That’s right. It’s truly that simple. Most people who would otherwise not be liable for the tax instead elect to attest, under penalty of perjury, that they are the above-signed taxpayer and that the figures listed thereupon are correct. But the IRS considers it less important that the figures be correct than that the above-signed natural person concede that he is a taxpayer. See? It’s the ol’ lawyer switcheroo! “Ha! We got you! Ta da! You just became liable for the tax! You created the necessary legal nexus by attesting that you are a taxpayer, the definition of which your assiduous studies would never reveal!”

To be free of the income tax, just don’t file a tax return. (And possess the necessary informational primacy to expose the fraud. Thanks for the stage. I’ll be on to allodial title next.) It’s really that simple. And the bugaboo of Willful Failure to File applies only to those who otherwise would have been obligated to file.

The United States possesses plenary powers of taxation within its territorial jurisdiction. But outside its territorial jurisdiction –that is, within the territorial jurisdictions of the several states– direct taxes must be apportioned, thus disallowing a graduated income tax. Ah, I shall anticipate your protest, Senator: the “United States citizen, wherever resident” clause. But that there is another of your guild’s greasy words of art. What is the meaning of “United States citizen” in that context? It is an easily verifiable fact that there are two classes of United States citizen; one is a United States citizen by virtue of his having first been a citizen of one of the several states, and the other is a United States citizen by virtue of the Fourteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution. The former possesses natural rights, the latter possesses civil rights. The latter has a character more akin to that of a ward of the state. And since the Fourteenth Amendment did not destroy that other, original class of citizen, that means that we cannot know whether any particular natural person is a state United States citizen or a federal United States citizen. (I, being the greasy little lawyer in training that I am, would fold my arms and extend to the prosecution all the time they may require, up to the projected lifespan of the universe, to demonstrate that which I do not concede: that I am a federal United States citizen.)

(Incidentally, that is why the filthy beasts in the Justice Department are forever promulgating law enforcement bulletins about so-called “sovereign citizens” and state citizens, mischaracterizing them as somehow anti-government. The foreign bankers who hired adequately corrupt attorneys to write that color-of-law fraud of an internal revenue code, the tax proceeds of which go directly to these banking families overseas, continue to instruct their minions in the Justice Department that no one shall ever stand upon his status as a state citizen. That is why we see the harassment of state citizens by the Justice Department. State United States citizens, as opposed to federal United States citizens, are in no way liable for the federal income tax, assuming, of course, that any income does not derive from within the territorial jurisdiction of the United States. (I will not even get into a side discussion about the meaning of the word “income” as it is moot, as I’ve adequately demonstrated that state United States citizens are not liable for the tax absent an attesting under penalty of perjury that they are “the above-signed taxpayer.”

The income tax code may be cracked by one with a keen eye for the fields of study of jurisdiction and citizenship.

So is that why I’m a bad man, Senator? Is it because I blew the IRS and their color-of-law fraud out of the water? Is it because I threaten to bring down the entire fraudulent system?

I don’t much care for frauds. I had these friends once who were nice to my face when they weren’t stealing things out of my trailer. By my accounting, they helped themselves to about a thousand dollars of my belongings.

I don’t much care for thieves. It seems there’s always someone looking to steal from me. If it’s not trash families stealing ham radios from my trailer, it’s trash jurisdictions stealing my money. Or it’s other trash jurisdictions stealing my natural rights by tricking me into conceding that I am a “driver” or an “operator,” more greasy words of art. Well, I’m finally on to the con.

But back to the income tax. You know how I enjoy waving around ironclad smoking guns like that detailed in the Capta Brightstick Document? Here’s the one for the income tax: If we were to ask the Commissioner of the IRS where his organization derives its taxing authority for the income tax, he would invariably reply, “from the Sixteenth Amendment.”

And then if we were to thank the good Commissioner for his considered testimony and turn the questioning to our neighborhood judge for his thoughts on the Sixteenth Amendment, he would invariably reply that “the Sixteenth Amendment conferred no new taxing authority. It placed the income tax into the class of indirect tax to which it inherently belonged.”

So how could that be, Senator? How could 9-11 have gone down as described by the Washington Post and the New York Times if Flight 175 wasn’t even at the scene of the crime? And how could the IRS derive new taxing authority from an instrument that confers no new taxing authority?

Hm? Is it a conspiracy theory to point out incompatible engine hardware which precludes certain vehicles from the scene of the crime? Is it a conspiracy theory to be able to read law books? I suppose it was just a conspiracy theory when I saw my ham radio’s User’s Manual in my erstwhile friends’ house, erstwhile friends who knew so little of the device that they mistook it for a CB radio and sold it for fifty bucks or an eighth of weed or whatever instead of the $750 it was worth. Upon seeing the manual I said, “I hope you got at least five hundred bucks for that radio you stole.” They didn’t know what to say. If they had been the federal government, they probably would have called me a conspiracy theorist terriss domestic extremiss.

But anyhow, it’s a fruitful field of inquiry, isn’t it? Of how that Typhoid Mary jurisdiction spreads its filth as far and wide as possible, incarcerating and ruining the lives of people who aren’t even liable for the tax in the first place?

If I ever were to deign to enter your singularly disreputable profession, Senator, I would do so for the sole purpose of destroying color-of-law frauds like the income tax and the driver’s license.

So is that why I’m a terriss? Is that why I’m a bad man? A one-man Pandora’s Box of Horrors?

Barack Ohomo gets rejected. Maybe his mind will collapse because he’s not the one we’d been waiting for inside his mind.

A rare appearance on the campaign trail by President Obama on Sunday night was marred by a steady stream of crowd members leaving early and even a yelling heckler.

The president had shown up at the Democratic rally in Upper Marlboro, Maryland, near Washington, to support Lieutenant Governor Anthony Brown, who is running for governor.

With Obama’s approval levels hovering around record lows, many candidates from his party have been wary of appearing with the president during their election races because of his sagging popularity.


This is the look of a guy who’s wondering if his Ceacescu Moment is coming:


And here’s a photo of people who’ve finally wisened up to the con this piece of trash has been running for six years:


So Frieden’s rationale for advising against denying entry to travelers from West Africa is that ‘turning off the fire hose would backfire because there might still be a drip.’

It is clear to me now that the entire executive branch will have to be seized by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and lawful government restored. It’s this nation’s last chance. If they do not act, I demand that they take off their uniforms and instead wear PT gear to work from now on.

The organized crime syndicate for which Messrs. Obama and Frieden work, the crime syndicate that executed 9-11 on behalf of foreign bankers who found your republican government bothersome, is now going to invoke medical martial law so that your nation may be completely subjugated. Obama and Frieden have been tasked with ensuring that the Ebola emergency is not impeded, lest that subjugation fail. Obama and Frieden are engaging in verbal gymnastics to rationalize the importation of Ebola vectors.

Barack Obama is actively assisting in the handing out of smallpox blankets. It’s politics 101.

That is what is happening.

Like Frodo temporarily separated from the group, I’ve been off on my own adventure.

As you know, I have a new house to live in. I’ve painted it and fixed the holes punched in the drywall and patched the roof. It’s a proper home now.

And I bought this awesome new woodstove at a community yard sale in town. It’s a Vermont Castings stove, the Encore model, complete with optional warming shelves. Retail price, somewhere around fifteen hundred dollars. It’s not quite the Cadillac of stoves, but it’s up there. It’s definitely the Lincoln Mark V. It is a beauty to behold and it’s a workhorse. I bought it for fifty bucks.

I seem to collect woodstoves like some people collect cars or shoes. Love ’em. I like restoring antique stoves in particular.

The one in question had been sitting in someone’s barn or garage, so it was all rusty. Ewwww! Yucky! No one wants to buy some rusty ol’ thing, which is why I got it so cheap. But cast iron woodstoves are supremely easy to restore; just remove the surface rust with a wire brush and apply stove polish. It’ll look like new.

And I have a new television now. I have not had a television or the electricity to run it for three years. I got it for free at that same yard sale, free because no one buys those old, fuddy duddy tube-type televisions anymore. And I got a free antenna which I have mounted in a tree nearby. I get the Vermont Public Television channels and one NBC station. I like to watch Austin City Limits and the Today Show.

I see on the Today Show this morning that Butter Bar Biden got kicked out of the Navy. It has been my experience that an officer’s failing a single drug test, especially an officer who is the Vice President’s son, is not necessarily grounds for revoking his commission. That it had been revoked tells me that the military are quite content with physically removing the human errors known as Barack Ebola and Buffoon Biden from the civilian power structure. When no one follows the law anymore and when the government collapses, which it has, power rightfully belongs to those who have the guns.  It then becomes perfectly morally defensible to simply arrest whatever idiot may have his feet up on the desk in the White House, whatever commie may have thought that his third-rate mind and his pen were enough to destroy the nation.

I think Barack Obama is in grave danger of being assassinated, not by his political detractors, but by commission of the bankers who own him as their personal property. Obama now is such toxic waste that his mere existence is a threat to these bankers’ plans to eradicate your nation as the business impediment that they regard it to be. They will likely wish to convert a loser of an investment into some marginal gain. It’s like a hog that’s not quite up to size but that’s more trouble than he’s worth; maybe he keeps escaping his pen and rutting around in the vegetable garden. Slaughtering him now solves the problem even if he’s not quite up to weight. So these bankers may decide to harvest Obama now and convert him into what I would call a “synthetic martyr.” These bankers will then instruct their assets in the whorestream media to pin it on these bankers’ political adversaries like tea partiers or gun owners. See? And then everyone can wring their hands about how we finally need to get rid of guns. And once your nation has been disarmed, you will have no means of defending yourselves when the Chinese come to take possession of the national parks and other natural resources pledged as collateral for China’s continued purchase of Treasury Notes, a trash instrument with no value otherwise.

No, the proper thing to do with President LGBTCCRAD is to try him for treason and let him sit in prison for the rest of his life. He can spend his time playing chess and basketball and keeping house for his jail husband.  He can bask in the sun shining through his cell window and fancy himself to be some sort of Nelson Mandela, unjustly persecuted for his selflessness, but in reality (which is what occurs outside of his mind, where he is most definitely not the one we’ve been waiting for) he’ll be in prison because he’s just another murderer or thief or con artist. He is, after all, guilty of criminal fraud every time he uses Harrison J Bounel’s Social Security Number to secure a mortgage or to file a tax return. I don’t know about you, but the only people I’ve ever encountered who needed to use some dead guy’s identity were those who were generally up to no good, those whose own identities would preclude their ability to pull off the con. The man is no Nelson Mandela. He’s a con artist. He’s a common street hustler. You’ve been watching his Three Card Monty game for the past six years.

So even though I regard Barack Obama as just the trashiest thing, I suppose I can do him the favor of shining my one-for-the-history-books spotlight on the heretofore fifty-fifty likelihood that his owners would harvest him. You can thank me later over the jailhouse phone, loser. Now go cook up a soup or a popcorn for your man, homo.

Can you imagine if that idiot tried his Grecian columns routine in prison? “I’m your leader! You’ve been waiting for me inside my mind!” He’d immediately get his teeth kicked in.

In jail, “what are you in for” is like “what’s your major?” He wouldn’t be in for anything “respectable” like some massive jewelry heist or a bank robbery. “Well, uh, it seems that I broke every law in sight so that I could dismantle the protections afforded by a republican form of government and deliver people just like y’all into the hands of my banker owners. I’m a regular O.G. Should I just give you my dessert from now on?”

Barack Obama is so completely non-respectable that in jail he wouldn’t even qualify as a nigger. Anyone with street cred in jail can be a nigger. I was a nigger. I was that nigger who stuck it to the man by (variously, according to whatever version coursing through the jail grapevine on any given day,) A, threatened to kill the president; B, ran a money laundering operation; or C, defrauded insurance companies. Little did my peers know that I possessed ultimate street cred: I stuck a shotgun in the federal jurisdiction’s mouth and blew its brains out all over the wall. I bodied that bitch. “See that nigger over there with the glasses? He killed the federal government by speaking. He fucked that bitch right up.”

I think we here in my theater are all in reluctant agreement that the United States “government” is a diseased crack whore.

[Update, Oct. 14: I composed this piece a week ago and left it unpublished. That’s how much I love my tippy-top secret audience; I want them to have first crack at enjoying my artistic output. So as a general rule, I will publish my material after some suitable amount of time.]

And it’s extremely dangerous. It’s a crack whore with guns. It is a danger to itself and others and it will need disarming.

I cut my teeth on dangerous material. We would expect nothing less of America’s Senior Comedian than to handle the heavy lifting around here. And what with, you know, my legal staff in Washington and my Secret Service protectee status, I can think of no one better suited to discussing precisely how that Frankenstein’s Monster styling itself a jurisdiction shall be physically disarmed.

I’m thumbing through that jurisdiction’s hit parade. Lessee: It spies without warrant; it enters homes without warrant; it eavesdrops on journalists; it somehow reserves to itself the right to snatch people off the street and spirit them off to locations unknown without charge; it rapes, it tortures, it defiles; it stands down the Border Patrol; it whacks its own ambassadors who may or may not be “down” with furnishing ISIS with shoulder-launched surface-to-air missiles which may later be used to shoot down airliners at American airports; its chief executive commits criminal fraud every time he files a tax return with some dead guy’s Social Security number; it suspends all normal protocols that would prevent the importation of Ebola into the territory; its chief executive conveniently contemporaneously signs an executive order providing for the abduction of persons merely suspected of having a respiratory problem; it generally stinks up the place; it’s just plain ugly as sin; and it in no way follows up on its one advertised source of latter-day moral authority, which is the catching of the bad men who deposited incompatible engine hardware on Murray Street.

You know how the writers of the Declaration of Independence took great pains to inform future generations of the reasoning and moral authority behind their actions? It’s gonna be simpler this time: “Um, in case you hadn’t noticed, the jurisdiction was a total piece of fuckin’ dog shit. So we hosed it off the sidewalk and started over. We just got tired of stepping over it with perfumed handkerchiefs pressed to our noses. The jurisdiction was an illness and we gave its idiot employees a boot in the ass and sent them home. Maybe those useless nothings will release classified documents next time, the publishing of which would have saved the day.”

Sometimes people misconceptualize precisely what government is. Government is not a bus line or a pension program. It is a mutual defense association, plain and simple. Its job is to prevent the enslavement or exploitation of its members at the hands of predators. Its one proper function is to defend property rights. That property includes natural rights. In short, governments are constituted to defend the property of the governed, including their freedom.

But sometimes that mutual defense association’s employees get full of themselves. They erect Grecian columns and have backup singers and everything. They get it in their little brains that they’re leaders of some sort.

It’s kind of like how you might hire day laborers to mow your lawn. You go through the basics: “The mower is in the garage and the weed trimmer is over here. I’ve got three flower beds, one each on the east, south, and west sides of the house. Mow the entire lawn and weed trim around the fruit trees but don’t trample the flowers. Got it?”

“Yes! I’m your leader! I shall strive to balance mowing with only the barest amount of trampling of the flowers!”

“No, stupid. It took me a lot of time and money to get those flowers to root. The whole purpose of the lawncare exercise, the one purpose to your being here at all, is to defend those flowers from the weeds. There is never a need to trample the flowers. Do you understand?”

“Yes! You need a hand up, not a handout! I shall diligently protect you from the terris! Now let me sniff your asshole! Stick your head in this bag! I will trample no more flowers than necessary as I discharge my duty to make you free!”

And at that point you just shake your head and sigh and hire another lawncare outfit that can do the job. And if this idiot doesn’t get off the property you just take him out back and beat the piss out of him until he gets the picture. That’s all you need to know from your college civics class. That’s how governments come and go. It’s really that simple.

So once the flower tramplers and the asshole sniffers and the peeping Toms have been sent packing, the decent people of the nation get to set about building their businesses and inventing new rocket engines or whatever and generally not having to contend with paying the salaries of that most useless stratum of society, government employees (who, again, can’t perform the basics like upholding their oaths of office, and thus do they have no one to blame but themselves for their extended vacation on the breadline.)

So since I’m getting really bored in this adolescent stage of my comedy non-career –what with being a smelly ol’ terris and all, lazily winding my watch and scrutinizing my fingernails, waiting for certain pieces of dog shit to get out of the way so I can continue on to the next level of my career– we’ll go ahead and lay the moral and legal framework for the use of armed force to shut down that disease-ridden, snaggle-toothed, scabby, cigarette-burned piece of street trash in Washington. And all the useless government employees in my audience can sob quietly about how no decent society tolerates their total, stinking uselessness and filth.

Won’t that be fun? We’ll get to ridicule that shitheap’s impotence as we discuss right in front of it how it’s gonna get euthanized. Call it a public service. I’m a regular philanthropist.

Would you expect anything less from America’s Senior Comedian? You wouldn’t have me be remiss, now, would you?

It’ll be another one for the history books: I’ll use my own Kook Law Containment Field to prevent that parade of idiocy from even opening its filthy whore mouth as we ridicule it and discuss its imminent termination.

Awww… Poor little shit stain… Is it gonna try to grunt now? Is its idiot mushmouth gonna talkee law? How cute… Look, everyone! That three-holer of a street hooker is moving its diseased, cocksucking cunt of a mouth as it dies its glorious jurisdictional death!

Lend it your ears, everyone! It strives to speak! Give it its due! It’s the United States Government! The world’s! original! cuntdiction!