A confession

I have now given 5,793 reasons why I left San Francisco but it all boils down to just one reason really - I could no longer look 90% of the people in the face. I just could not stand them. How can you look into the faces (without spitting at them) of people who hate America as much as they do?

I realized that I really hated liberals (and I don't often hate anyone) when some commie creep came into my restaurant and said to me something like: "Chimpy McBushitler doesn't stand a chance of being re-elected. The more soldiers get killed in Iraq, the better. Every body-bag means a few thousand fewer votes for Dubya."

One commie creep told me the lie that our soldiers were desserting in huge numbers soon after the invasion of Iraq. The lies and the concommitent mental illness that results from disrespect for the truth was palpable in SF. It literally made me sick. I had to get out of that hell-hole or die of a broken heart when I saw how ugly, dishonest and twisted liberals could be. I said to Chas and Andy the other night that it was no wonder that I felt wounded, hurt and constantly insulted in San Francisco.

(Sure, you can inure yourself to insults - God knows my skin is thick enough from scar-tissue - but it damages your soul to deliberately become cold and hard. One thing that I realized about the gays in SF was that they had had their hearts broken - through their own promiscuity and stupidity - so many times that they had hardened themselves and ended up becoming zombies - living dead.)

It was one thing to hold my nose in the restaurant and bite my tongue - that's business - but it was another thing to come face to face with these people outside of business and have to make small talk. Needless to say, I ended up feeling dirty and dishonest because I would either pretend that I had not seen them or, if I could not avoid them, grin and bare it.

It got to the point where I was so filled with anger at 90% of the people in SF (yep, it's about 90% commie and/or Chinese immigrants who couldn't care less as long as they made a fast buck) that it was killing me. I often wondered if I was the only American who longed for a civil war so that I could kill some commies. Who needs to live like that?

Back here in the good old USA, I seldom feel like that. What few liberals there are here, are in the minority and are not arrogant dictatorial people and I try not to expose myself to liberal insanity on the internet or the MSM. Oh, I read a few of my conservative friends' reactions to liberal lies and ocassionally see stuff like Zombie's photo essays of SF and get a few pangs of anger but, on the whole nowadays, I follow my mother's philosophy, "Ignore the ugliness and evil in the world and concentrate on the beauty and goodness."

Sure, every now and then, something on the net or TV or in the newspapers will trigger off my old anger at liberals and, after a few glasses of wine at dinner, I'll have a little "Mel Gibson fit" and wish for a civil war so I can kill a few commies but I prefer pottering around my farm and hanging with my chickens. Yes, chickens are vicious to each other and sometimes even cannibals but they are a lot more honest than liberals.

But, I will confess that, if push comes to shove, I will gladly shoot a few commies with less concern than I chop off a chicken's head. See that creep with the "Kike" placard below - I wouldn't even need a gun to kill that asshole. I'd gladly do it with my bare hands.