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the pacifist-post-industrial simplex
Pat Robertson insurance company.

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Raging Pencils is an annoying conceit of:

Mike Stanfill, Private Hand
Mike "Lefty" Stanfill, Private Hand
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So Long, Suckers!

fuck you pat robertsonP
at Robertson is personally responsible for every death in Haiti over the past eleven days. He admitted exactly that when he said he knew that the Devil had put a curse on the island.

Being a close, personal friend of God, of whom all things are possible, old Pat could easily have made the very reasonable request that He evict Satan post-haste from that benighted little rock in the middle of the Atlantic before something awful happens.

But he didn't.

And the reason is clear. It's much harder to actually work for change and make it happen than it is to sit on the sidelines and act like a smug douche-nozzle when any unfortunate event transpires.

Robertson acted exactly like such a nozzle on 9-11, blaming the catastrophe on gays, abortionists, the ACLU and the People for the American Way. (It was more likely the fault of UNOCAL and the Mossad.)

As for Katrina, Robertson said it was God's judgment on the people of New Orleans, a pronouncement with which he seemed strangely content.

So according to Pat, God kills and Satan kills, it's pretty much all the same and there's just nothing Mr. Robertson can do about it. All he can do is say "Ha-ha! Told ya so!" afterwards and then ask for lots of money so he can talk to God about, oh, I don't know, sports?

In truth, Mr. Robertson has no more ability to converse with God than your average pekingese. He is a deranged, manipulative lunatic preying on the weak and the scared. It's people like him who make me fervently wish there really was a Hell because the gates would swing open quite wide and with great fanfare when he finally snuffs it.

And the sooner the better.


end rant

Raging Pencils salutes the Mystery Readers of
Guimarães, Portugal
Whoever you are, thanks for reading my inflated little 'toon.

end rant

A blast from the reeking past. The RP from 6-2-08.

the perfect nose job

end rant

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Today's Google Chow.

Door-to-door salesman encountering elderly woman.

Salesman: "How about this... all you do is pay a small amount each week and we promise to offer nothing to help you when disaster strikes but scorn and abusive ridicule?"

Elderly lady: "That's got to be the worst insurance ever."

Salesman: "Insurance? Honey, I work for Pat Robertson."