Bloviating douchenozzle Mark "stain" Steyn in the M Loonie Times may have gotten around to his point -- if he had one -- eventually, but I couldn't see myself wasting any more time with this bilge:
Our lesson today comes from the old British novelty song. "I like a nice cup of tea in the morning Just to start the day, you see And at half-past-eleven My idea of heaven Is a nice cup of tea." In other cultures, tea is a soothing beverage, a respite from the cares of the world. A "Nice Cup of Tea and a Sit Down" is a British best-seller offering advice on tea, biscuits (that's "cookies" in American English) and comfy chairs by the husband-and-wife team of "Nicey" and "Wifey," which sobriquets suggest these are not folks which sobriquets suggest these are not folks to turn to for societal insurrection
George Orwell wrote a famous essay called "A Nice Cup of Tea," all about the best way to warm the pot and the defects of shallow cups. Is it some sort of political allegory for impending civil war set in a household torn between those who put the milk in before the tea and those who do so after? -- Look, a squirrel! Cute little fellow. Ha, that's funny! Squirrels... nuts... tea-bagging! -- No, Orwell liked a good "cuppa" (as they say in England) and was eager to pass on his advice for extracting maximum satisfaction from it.
Not that I really paid attention. I mean, Orwell, though he was British, was a bit of a commie, wasn't he? Such a bore. Shame that. Dum de dum... What was I nattering on about? Ah, tea! If I had any class, that's what I would be drinking in the morning, instead of my usual libation: a good fifth of bourbon mixed with some of Rush Limbaugh's thin manjuice. What? What lesson? What was I getting at again? Oh, I don't know, because I'm a fucking loon.
George Orwell wrote a famous essay called "A Nice Cup of Tea," all about the best way to warm the pot and the defects of shallow cups. Is it some sort of political allegory for impending civil war set in a household torn between those who put the milk in before the tea and those who do so after? -- Look, a squirrel! Cute little fellow. Ha, that's funny! Squirrels... nuts... tea-bagging! -- No, Orwell liked a good "cuppa" (as they say in England) and was eager to pass on his advice for extracting maximum satisfaction from it.
Not that I really paid attention. I mean, Orwell, though he was British, was a bit of a commie, wasn't he? Such a bore. Shame that. Dum de dum... What was I nattering on about? Ah, tea! If I had any class, that's what I would be drinking in the morning, instead of my usual libation: a good fifth of bourbon mixed with some of Rush Limbaugh's thin manjuice. What? What lesson? What was I getting at again? Oh, I don't know, because I'm a fucking loon.
There, fixed it.
Above: "Butt-hurt pussy," the new emblem of the republitard tea party.
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