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Saturday, September 01, 2012

Making My Day

Uh, wait-ahold-it.  Am I hearing the multitudes of ill-informed, age deprived twatwaffles complain that Clint Eastwood has a tooth missing on his sprocket, he hasn’t a clue what the Convention was about and he is just an old man with bad hair and an empty chair?

Well, my well intentioned, shoot-from-the-hip, info lacking dipsticks, if you had taken more than 30 seconds to research what he was doing, instead of trying to internalize his shtick, you wouldn’t have made such as ass of yourselves.

Mr. Eastwood was simply executing a type of “performance art” that has been around since before television. Let me serve you with the masters of what Clint was doing, long before he did it. Sid Caesar, Milton Berle, Jackie Gleason, Red Skelton and the late Bob Newhart all used this vehicle to convey a story line, long before most of you were squirting yellow in your didies.

No, what we have here is a large group of small minded elitists from both sides of the political isle condemning something they know little or nothing about. If you are only forty something, you were born in the 70’s, not a very good year for cars or television. You can claim historical ignorance as your reason to blast Mr. Eastwood, but you can’t blame him for doing your job before revealing your ignorance.

For those of you who think time began when you were born, think again. Rowdy Yates was putting down bad guys before most of you were spewing creamed corn at your mothers. Get over yourselves, the seventies wasn’t the beginning of time or history.


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