Sod Off, You Donkey-Humpers!

Tomorrow, I'm going to the Class Six store to pick up a six-pack of Guinness. I'll choke it down with pride and gratitude for our English allies. I really don't care for the stuff, but London was a juicier target for the ragtards than say, Ireland, where they make heavenly Harp's and blessed Bushmills. So I'll keep a stiff upper lip and chug some liquid rye bread for Tony B and all his mates fighting the good fight. bottle of Scotch because it's made in Great Britain, our truest friend in the world.