I save the hard ones for the road and eat the gooey ones as they come.
As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
TL was showing me some things people were posting about me and it was amusing to me, as one of them said in March that I was Jeb Bush's son. I must be the son who Jeb Bush disinherited for I was non stop ripping that fraud a new A hole every day and writing what worthless dregs my brothers are in the Stalker and the Blow Job Boy.
I do conclude that I would rather be fatherless than to be Jeb Bush's son as that perp is so the Colonel Klink of politics. I mean he has the worst timing on the planet, as he decided last week to pop out of his hole again and start trashing Roy Moore for Bush Fam, and it never occurred to that dipstick he was throwing a hanger over the plate as his daddy is a serial ass grabber in one of thee most disgusting dirty old pervs since Al Franken and his boys history is one was stalking a poor girl and got the cops called him in Jorge and the other one had an underage girl sucking his dick in a Walmart parking lot or something and got the cops called on him.
Jeb Bush is thee most moronic person in the political sphere as proven by George W. actually outwitted him in running for president first, and we all know what kind of a landslide Lyndon W. is as him and Rove almost snatched defeat from easy victory in two national elections while turning control over to Nancy Pelosi.
Another comment was a Twitter ranter who assured the world that I was a PR firm. Seriously if I had millions of dollars I would not be trying to hand it over to the poor in standing up for them as I do. This particular mind had deduced that I am apparently many people, along with I would be visited by NSA, which is odd as NSA does not have a visiting branch, and if I had a PR firm the NSA would be writing my checks and I would be on easy street.
Here is an example of who is paid to troll you. This is the Sunprancer over at Cuckservitude Treewhores.
I can tell you that as a popular girl I do not fit the description of what the paid trollers are and look like. Few of them look like Tucker Carlson and get those kinds of big bucks. Most are dregs who get hired on to troll people and then f*ck it up like that Eric Erickson over at Red State or that Matthew Pope Boy over at the Blaze. You saw what happened to Glenn Beck when he did the falling on his own sword, the money got pulled and what was left was a an empty shell of Beck empire, as that is what Beck always was, a paid troll.
Readers will know that I have tried hard to get paid for this. I have offered to sell this blog for millions and no one will buy it. I have offered to sell out for millions with the provision I would tell everyone I was a rat bastard and then I would post all that crap you get led around on other sites. No one will buy me though, it is almost as if word got out that I really am the Tactician gone rogue and the lords and the priests can not touch me in exile across the River Styx as planet Vulcan are some of my friends.
It really is disheartening in having this hands off thing going on when I have offered to sell out so often just like the rest of the Peggy Noonan and Ann Coulter internet.
I have been called an Asian woman from California, a Polish ex patriot from Poland of course, and even a man. That would be a surprise to the lesbians who troll me. Seriously dudes, you can not slip nothing past lezbos and if they are always coming on to you, they know you ain't no lumberjack wearing the dyke boots.
I was puzzled in another blurb about the Lame Cherry that I am running Google Ads, as you can see no Google ads ever appeared on this site. I don't know where that chit is coming from, but I did notice that this blog was being shadowed in a number of Google addresses around the world. Google must be making more money off of me than just this page or someone else is, as I got that poverty thing going on with no donations.
That is the thing in this in I do not know why I just can not be a girl. Why do I have to be CIA or some other connected thing with a license to kill like 007 who daily taps into the drones to monitor those who annoy me and that is why all those who annoy me disappear as the Defense Intelligence Agency shows up, hauls them away to Gitmo and they are never heard from again like Tim McVeigh.
Did you ever see that Star Trek episode with Spock in the goatee, maybe I got me one of those disappearing devices like evil James Kirk had in his quarters, as the DIA loaned it to me.
I have never figured out why people wanted to know who I am. Capt. Kirk just told me I was nice. The Viking always says nice things. Maggie is nice to me. Richard and Stephanie call us family. Pretty good for a booger babe who is Jeb Bush's son.
If I had my druthers, I would have Mike Cernovich get all the attention and Aaron Klein would get all the scoops. I like the gorilla because his wife can not be wrong and I like Klein because he is the best journalist on the planet.I would just have nice days and not do this stuff. Nice days would be sun, where about all I would accomplish was petting the Puntz and not get bit, pet the horses and not get run over, pet Daisy and Baby Belle and not have to chase them and pet the goats in they never get the attention.
If you want to know how the day starts in the Brier Patch, it is me wind or storm, walking out to the tank or stock dam and chopping on thin ice a 3 by 8 foot hole, which I split, and shove under the ice so the cows can drink. I rarely have good days and rarely do I have a day I enjoy. It is work and I have resigned myself that I will serve God and only get anything good in Heaven, and my idea of reward would be a lake with all the things I want here, and my resting by it. I don't want no singing flowers, dancing butterflies or that other flashy stuff like God likes. Just want some geese to come over and talk, maybe some beaver and muskrats to swim by and say HI, and some perch to pop out and tell me they would like to be caught as it has been awhile as no one fishes in Heaven.
I have had enough popular, enough death, enough celebrity, enough attention. I always thought Billy Dixon had it right in all he wanted was a buffalo chip fire, his french cook broiling up a steak, some sourdough and a quart tin cup on a nice night. It was like my Beloved Uncle said, "I got a pretty good pickup, a nice boat and a fishing rod".
With that no one needs to be Jeb Bush's son. I wonder if those two even have religion or can think.