Recent Comments

1. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   Hello, SkepticCal, faithful servant of ignorance, clueless about Hillary, Kerry, Barack, and especially Benghazi.

2. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   Manti T’eo’s so schizo, even he doesn’t think he’s real.

3. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   “I hear … of $ 3,141,592.65 and I think of Dylan Thomas.”

   Think that’s my net worth? Heh heh heh.

4. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   One thing Cal CAN do, though. He can fail.

5. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   “Calim[esa] …. No point to even reply.”

   Translation of my previous post: Ø 4 Cal, 4 lurkers.

   [My reply is] Ø (= not) 4 (= for) Cal (= calimesajim), [it’s] (4 = for) lurkers (= folks who read the comments but rarely if ever post).

6. almost 12 years ago on [Deleted]

   Ø 4 Cal, 4 lurkers.

7. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   Errors / absurdities in Calimesajim’s post:

   • Hillary Clinton fell on no sword.• Cal can’t read HIll’s mind.• Cal chokes over four American dead in service to America in Benghazi and ignores four thousand+ American service-people dead serving their country in W.Bush’s insane Iraq war.• Cal again fails to provide so much as a single shred of evidence of malfeasance / misfeasance on the part of the Obama administration, including secretary of state Clinton.• Ditto for any so-called “coverup”.• He also fails to acknowledge the GOP failure to provide requested adequate funding to upgrading defenses of our embassies round the world — including and in specific, Benghazi.

8. almost 12 years ago on [Deleted]

   Zonk is Zip’s uncle.

9. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

   Of the four dudes in this strip, only Mike has a lady love, his babe-wife Kim.

10. almost 12 years ago on Doonesbury

    I grow old . . . I grow old . . .I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

    Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach? I will wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach. I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

    I do not think that they will sing to me.

    —T.S. Idiot, er, Eliot