Stream-of-consciousness Beto O’Rourke is so embarrassing to watch and to listen to; he makes one almost miss Barack Obama, whose prose was aimed, at least, at an eighth-grade level. (See: “Obama’s Very Elementary Thinking—Eighth-Grade Elementary.”)
Are we getting dumber as a people or what!
Here is Beto dressed as a bunny, “playing” in a band called “The Sheeps.” (Sic: “sheep” in the plural is … sheep.)
Beto’s animal fetishism (or abuse) and penchant for the English language have surfaced in the form of a poem:
“Wax My Ass”: A Poem By Beto O’Rourke is brutish, disgusting, impoverished, bovine erotica by Beto, your next president, if the Fourth Estate (media) has its way. The dramatic reenactment is delicious; the lyrics, if you can believe it, are authentic. Dung-brain Beto wrote ’em.
Writing under the now-exposed pseudonym “Psychedelic Warlord,” a teen-aged O’Rourke appears to be the author of a poem titled “The Song of the Cow,” published in 1988 by “cDc (Cult of the Dead Cow) communications.” “I need a butt-shine,” the poem begins … and it really all just goes downhill from there
“The Song of the Cow” By Beto O’Rourke
I need a butt-shine,
You are holy,
Oh, sacred Cow
I thirst for you,
Buff my balls,
Love the Cow,
Good fortune for those that do.
Love me, breathe my feet,
The Cow has risen.
Wax my ass,
Scrub my balls.
The Cow has risen,
O’Rourke “windmills his arms” and is “your garden-variety demagogue,” who “stands in the shallow end of the Democratic pool.” And that’s how a friendly liberal describes dung-boy. (“The Semigoguery of Beto O’Rourke.“)