Those monocled fancy-pants over at the slightly-more-popular-and-grammatically-correct blog Millard Fillmore is a jerk (don't Google it!) decided to post "an incisive analysis of Washington's so-called 'Compromise of 1850'" and to the shame of myself, my ancestors, and my still-missing washing board, the fourth comment below their six-page snoozefest of a commentary read:
"I agree that while the President ostensibly hopes to soften relations between an agricultural slaveholding South and a wealthy abolitionist North, this so-called Compromise has only served to polarize the nation regarding these very issues.
- Clara L., Washington DC"
That's right. My own wife, pandering to the idiot factory that is "Millard Fillmore is a jerk". Needless to say, I tried to kick her out, but since she pays the rent my plan backfired and I am now typing this from my neighbor Alexandre's log cabin. Sometimes I'm not sure who America's real enemy is: our wishy-washy globe-gut of a President or those self-proclaimed anti-Fillmorians over at MFIAJ.
And speaking of the so-called Compromise--I'd like to compromise Millard Fillmore's kneecaps! Who is Dullard Take-A-Chill-Pillmore to tell us Northerners we have to return fugitive slaves to the South? Abolitionist or not, I'm not taking "executive orders" from the sweaty oaf who once stole my mail*, and just to stick it to him, I'm converting my cabin into a safe haven for escaped slaves [once Clara lets me back in].
Since actions speak louder than words, I even approached a runaway slave in Goldthwait's Pharmacy today and told him he could crash on my porch until the heat dies down. He introduced himself as Goldthwait and unkindly told me to take my business elsewhere, but my heart was in the right place. On a related topic, keep an eye out for my newest blog: Goldthwait was a jerk.
I think I hear Alexandre coming home. Hopefully Clara has cooled down. Keep reading,
-a friend
*"Delivered to the wrong address", my ass!
