Queen of the Bunker

Binks has something to say about Jennifer Lynch:

Queen Of The Bunker

~ ITEM: U.S. co-sponsors anti-free speech resolution at the UN

~ ITEM: If you value free speech … then get on over to BCF and do your part

~ UNTO THE BUNKERS… Whether or not (as rumour has it) Ms. Jennifer Lynch is a Conservative, she’s acting like a radical, and a last-ditch tyrant. Like a raging Hitler in the bunker, she seems to be fulminating against her mostly impecunious peasant opponents, while perhaps hoping for a Librano rescue, a UN intervention, or some radical legal consensus amongst her censorious peers, to save the CHRC bacon.

All this energy expended, instead of using it to call for reform inside the organization. Instead of using the good will and energy of people to push for a better CHRC, she apparently seeks more and worse of the same old– if recent events are anything to go by.

Looks like teh nice will not work on Der CHRCfuhrer bunker. Fine.

You’re a mean one, Mrs. Lynch.
You really are a heel.
You’re as cuddly as a cactus,
You’re as charming as an eel.
Mrs. Lynch.
You’re a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.

You’re a monster, Mrs. Lynch.
Your heart’s an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You’ve got garlic in your soul.
Mrs. Lynch.
I wouldn’t touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.

You’re a vile one, Mrs. Lynch.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile.
Mrs. Lynch.
Given the choice between the two of you
I’d take the seasick crocodile.

You’re a foul one, Mrs. Lynch.
You’re a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk.
Mrs. Lynch.
The three words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: “Stink. Stank. Stunk.”

You’re a rotter, Mrs. Lynch.
You’re the queen of sinful sots.
Your heart’s a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mrs. Lynch.

Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.

You nauseate me, Mrs. Lynch.
With a nauseous super-naus.
You’re a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked horse.
Mrs. Lynch.

You’re a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich..

With arsenic sauce! ~

Read it here.

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