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OK, so I took a break from my internet surfing and general goofing off to go get some lunch. Chinese buffet, all-you-can-eat, and yes, it was gooooood.
I get in the car to come home, and as I'm pulling out of the parking lot, glancing through the windshield, I notice a bee is clinging to the windshield, its stinger and part of its guts sticking to the glass as it continues to madly sting, sting, sting.
As I zoom along the city streets (you used to zoom along with me,) I think to myself, "Self, this is a lovely metaphor. That there is a conservative bee, madly stinging at the Truth of the windshield, which, of course represents Mr. Moore's recent film." No matter how madly this tenacious bee stings, stings, stings the Windshield of Truth, with its Vicious Stinger of Lies, it can never dent the impenetrable matrix of facts, of which the glass is made. Of.
Then I tired of the metaphor and pulled over and squooshed him.
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