No hi ha al món re més repugnant que un botifler

Assnàs from Asspain, dead.

The object of my discussion today is the former death-ugly honcho of the punk fascist terrorist rotten-shit state of Asspain. That ludicrous, grotesque and so sickly spic ragdoll, with no brain to speak off, worthless size to match (his total girth actually smaller than his own snot-dripping bloated nose,) uncouth, unseemly, cryptogamous, looking all in all like a piece of just shitted shit, and sounding like a traitorous fart, a prolonged fizzle, whose name is Assnàs — translated as Ass-nose (and a very appropriate name it is, his, as he has always managed to have his nose inserted into some deep asshole of thick putrid shit — and the deepest biggest asshole of putrid shit his own fascist state of Asspain,) — that ludicrous repulsive puppet then might as well be dead… Dead, as everybody desires, or at least every single one of the fifty-odd million too-aggrieved Catalonians spread around the world.

I said “object of my discussion” with full knowledge of the word “object.” An object is already dead. [Page 266 of Beauvoir’s Mémoires d’une jeune fille rangée: “To my mother’s eyes I was a soul in danger, a soul to save: an object.” (Meaning the stupid woman wouldn’t see the person, only the object to save: a nothing, a phantom, a name, a damned hard tool to badger and bludgeon the person, a stone, a hammer, in fact then something already dead, as all objects, impossible to vivify.] [Page 59 of Sartre’s Situations IV: “You speak to me when your apparent subject is to refute (somebody else.) That’s a dirty trick. Isn’t it your real aim to transform your critic into an object: a dead man? You speak of him, as if he were a balalaika or a tureen…”.]

Anyway, back to the dead shit. I hope his death by the way might have been wrackingly tormenting — it would’ve been only too fair, as he tormented and murdered so many people when acting as deadly shit-head a his fascist terrorist state. He not only condemned whole populations to terror and the everyday fascist practices of any torturing fascist state, but he dared, shitty piece of asshole puke, to send some of his cowardly fascist soldiers overseas, in order to prop that thuggish dim-witted gorilla, Push-push, cold-blooded murderer of millions of innocent Iraqis.

His biggest exploit was the hilarious conquest of a bare, dismally small rock in the Mediterranean occupied by a Moroccan shepherd and his seventeen goats. To conquer seventeen goats he sent a battalion of his cowardly fascist minions — a bunch of shit-brained murderers chosen from a fascist army which never has won a single battle when confronted with anybody other than disarmed citizens.

He planted the fascist ass-wiping flag of his terrorist state like his poor saintly mother (not through her fault, let us hope, but the fucking devil’s) planted the infected little broken turd that eventually turned out to be he in this already damaged drunk-fuzzy seesaw-wavering planet doomed to explode unless so much infected shit (like him and his ilk) is not soon washed away by whatever means necessary. Where’s the fucking rapture when you most need it…!

I’ve read recently in the ultra-nationalistic newspaper “Le Monde” that before dying his (by me, and so many other eager pure just ones, repeatedly daydreamed) horribly repellent death, the grotesque francoist spic sick puppet said that in his conquest of the seventeen goats, the fascist French president Shitrag chose never to help him…, that Shitrag was actually in favor of the Moroccan shepherd and his beautiful seventeen goats…! Well, duh, and who wasn’t…! And who wouldn’t…! All the Catalonians and all the good peoples from the free world at large are always rooting on the side of whoever is on the side which is against whichever side the fascist terrorist spics are. Ok…? Everybody who has heard spic being snake-spitted can’t but desire the utter annihilation of such pustulous shit on the face of the earth.

How I wish the seventeen goats could have possessed a few atomic bombs…! Now the earth would be much cleaner… As is (the earth) a little bit cleaner with the awfully painful passing of that ugly dwarfish misshapen son of Franco, the fascist terrorist Assnàs from Asspain.

May hell exist, at least for those few unremittingly unredeemable stinky turds like him still left alive in this still ailing, failing, fast-going world.

No, but hold the applause, I haven’t finished… I was going to say… “Asspain” means having to push-push in order to plant the turdy fascist ass-wipe flag in any barren rock while offending the honor of the sacred goats like the fascist mothers have to push-push through their ravaged assholes in order to get rid of their turdy miscarriages… Hello, I’ve not finished… Hello, people… Wait a… I’ve still plenty to…

Ok, ok… We’ll follow another day… Let’s for the nonce all chant away… “—The world joins the goats’ disdain! To hell with bloody Asspain! —The world joins the goats’ disdain! To hell with bloody Asspain…!”