Cease fire

Steven Feinstein of the Orly’s World Facebook page has declared a cease fire in the Obot/Birther war until after Christmas. This blog is joining.

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About Dr. Conspiracy

I'm not a real doctor, but I have a master's degree.
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15 Responses to Cease fire

  1. Foggy says:

    Merry Christmas, Doc, and to Mrs. Doc, too … from me and Mrs. Leghorn.

  2. Likewise from Mrs. RC and me to Doc’s family and all his readers a very Happy Holidays.

    I got a new smoker for Christmas so we will be smoking a turkey tomorrow. The radio show will take the holiday off too.

  3. Lani says:

    Mele Kalikimaka to one and all – but especially Doc!

  4. Rickey says:

    Merry Christmas to Doc and all the regulars here. And, in the spirit of the holiday, that even includes everyone’s favorite birther, John,.

  5. Keith says:

    And from down under, may the greetings of the seasons give you great cheer.

    Here’s a traditional Australian Christmas carol for your enjoyment:

    Chunder in the Old Pacific Sea – Barry Crocker (words by Dame Edna’s alter ego Barry Humphries)

  6. RetiredLawyer says:

    Merry Winter Solstice to one and all, and may we all have a peaceful new year.

  7. BatGuano says:

    happy holidays to all.

    ( i don’t think orly got the “cease fire” memo ).

  8. Yoda says:

    BatGuano:
    happy holidays to all.

    ( i don’t think orly got the “cease fire” memo ).

    I used her process server to deliver the memo

  9. Paul Pieniezny says:

    Millions of hours have been spent arguing, but our Obot troops have advanced no further in convincing the flying monkeys than an asthmatic ant with some heavy shopping.

    Captain C: “You see, Barack, in order to prevent war on the web, two superblocs developed: us, the Fogbow and Reality Check Radio on one side, and Orly Deutsch and Apuzzo-Mariongary on the other. The idea was to have two vast opposing armies, each acting as the other’s deterrent. That way there could never be a war.
    Private Barack: But, this is a sort of a war, isn’t it, sir?
    Captain C: Yes, that’s right. You see, there was a tiny flaw in the plan.
    Private Barack: What was that, sir?
    Captain C: It was bollocks.
    Private Barack: So the poor old Emmerich died for nothing then.

    Happy feasting and good wishes for 2013 all of you. Only do not expect me to forget that Christmas three years ago. I was NEVER out-side!

  10. JPotter says:

    Doesn’t acknowledgment of a ceasefire acknowledge the existence of, and participation in, a war? Reminds me of the Union conscious trying to avoid recognition of the Civil War as a war between sovereigns, even as they were enforcing a naval blockage. Hmm, now that I think of it, this comparison has legs … blockading southern ports …. attempting to quarantine online cess pools of birfer stupid …. “Move along, nothing to see here!”

    Awful nice of the birfers to assist by voluntarily congregating and isolating themselves.
    _____________________

    Happy holidays to all, and all the best for 2013.

    If I could have a holiday wish, I’d wish for birfers spend their time on something practical for a change. I spent yesterday rearranging the living room. Ahhh, substantial, tangible improvement.

  11. Andrew Vrba, PmG says:

    Its not so much a war, in the traditional sense, as one side sits there, guns holstered, watching on as the other side shoots themselves in the foot repeatedly.

  12. HellT says:

    “Grandpa, what are you doing to fight the Usurper?”

    “This is a new kind of war, Tommy. It is fought on many new and unheard of fronts.

    I’m serving my country on the Internet. I post attacks on Nobama to many Soros-backed websites and blogs.

    It’s pure hell. The time my browser hiccuped and I posted the same message 42 times to six different blogs…my email client almost bought it from all the mail bombs I received in response. But I keep on posting.

    And the flame wars…my God, the flame wars. It’s all I can do to keep insulting those treasonous Obots. I’ve sustained horrible carpel tunnel syndrome injuries that I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.

    Let that be a lesson to you, kid – invest in a good quality American-made email client and keep your hard drive defragged. You never know when your life may depend on it.”

  13. Paul Pieniezny says:

    Andrew Vrba, PmG:
    Its not so much a war, in the traditional sense, as one side sits there, guns holstered, watching on as the other side shoots themselves in the foot repeatedly.

    Of course, in REAL trench warfare (and this conflict is trench warfare – in four years we haven’t been able to move our toilet one kilometre closer to Berlin) soldiers with shell shock shoot themselves in the foot to be sent home to Blighty, but with the risk of facing a firing squad. Commanders Orly and Mario, however, do not reward or punish the shooters, but egg them on to do it once more.

    Still wondering what would happen if someone, instead of his own foor, would “accidentally” shoot Mario’s Favorite Pigeon.

    NADT.

  14. bovril says:

    I smell the smell off a Blackadder fan…….. 😎

    In which case, can I be Flasheart…….woof….woof

  15. Dave B. says:

    In honor of the ceasefire, and our opposition, I offer this little story:
    A brand new preacher gets his first church, and as soon as he gets there he’s got to preach a funeral. And the place is packed. He doesn’t know the departed from Adam, of course, but he figures this is a pretty big deal; but after he gets through with the standard form stuff he doesn’t know what else to say. But then he has a flash of inspiration, and decides to turn the ceremony over to the congregation so they can give a final testimony over this soul who’s gone to his just reward.
    Now as it turned out everybody was just there to make sure the old so-and-so really was good and dead. They’d been sticking pins in the corpse and everything. But speaking ill of the dead, well, that’s just plain bad manners; so everybody just sat there and kept their traps shut. And the more they sat the more that new preacher squirmed and sweated. Finally, though, one old fellow in the back took pity on him. He stood up real slow and looked around the congregation for about a minute; then he sighed real big, looked at the preacher and said “Well, his brother was worse.”
    So Happy New Year, Orly, Mario and the rest of you– at least you’re not Jerome Corsi! And to Corsi, may the New Year see some improvement in your condition.

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