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I am so honored, I received this diatribe of stupidity from a real “Birther” “Teabagger” wing nut…It would be worth a laugh or two if it wasn’t so tragic that there are Americans who actually think this way.
“This is tyical of Nero obama and his left wing smear capaign.to attack others while Rome burns and blame it all on the christians? McCain was checked out by the supreme court and found that "both parents were "Americans" not one but both kust like the Contitution requires you to be ,unlike BarrackObama/Barry Soetoro whose father was a Kenyan,and his adopted father was an Indonesian.If you so called "journalists" and I use the term loosely can't get your head out of his posterior end then i guess we will just keep exposing your lies and the lies ob Obama/Soetoro until the cows come home,or in his case"when the chickens come home to roost".There are many things about Obama/Soetoro that needs to be proved.the least of which is wher he claims he was born.
When Obama /Soetoro was just a snot nosed Senator from Illnous it was published in the Kenyan newspapers that he was borned in Kenya.Then there's his granny that says she was present at his birth in Provinical Coast Hospital,inMombassa,Kenya.Where they did find proof that a child named barrack Obama III was borned there and his mother was white and her name was Ann Dunham.Since then like the other web sites that they have scrubbed has been wiped clean and his cousin Raila Odinga (PM)has since removed.
Then we have the "Indonesian proof that he was adopted by his adopted father at age 5 and moved to Indonesia where he himself admits that he went and attended school right away?Only an Indonesian citizen can attend school in Indonesia.His school admission form says he attended a Maddrassa school and his reglion was listed as a "MUSLIM".furthermore when he turned 20 and retuened from school in Hawaii he obtained an "Indonesian Passport" where he used it to travel to "Pakistan" where NO american could travel,but as a "Indonesian citizen/Muslim" could travel freely through the country ,and even train as a terroristshimself,Maybe this is why he refuses to call terorists what they really are?
Obama/Soetoro is getting his army ready to over power the american way of life in a big way?Its time we all woke up and smelled the Muslim in the hen house and remove him from doing antmore destruction to this country.if you refuse to force Obama/Soetoro to produce his papers like he should have when he was to be vetted then its time we gave him his walking papers!and stop wasting taxpayers money hiding a 12dollars doucument that will settle this schism that Obama/Soetoro has created and kept alive to destract us from the real threat of his bankrupting America?”
And when I tried to go to his website, it was not accessible…typical of these extremists…they hide behind the scenes, lurking in the shadows while spewing hatred and lies. Be a man, be like me, I am out there and you know where to contact me…Who the hell are you and why do you have to hide Mr. Runningbear? Also, I would suggest since you did not finish the 7th grade and can’t spell worth a shit that you use a feature in your computer called “SPELLCHECK” otherwise you are going to be misspelling words like you do with the signs you carry to your town hall meetings. You could use a crash course in remedial English. Without trying very hard, I counted 41 spelling and grammatical errors in this little post (I put them in red so you could think about them, Mr. Runningbear).
A couple of more things: I would still like to see Sarah Palin’s birth certificate and put to bed the rumor that she was born in Southern Alberta, Canada and for somebody to tell me that John McCain is not a natural born Panamanian. There are no hospitals in the Canal Zone.
We will be staying home, which I think is a very wise thing to do. First because if we drink we could get as shit faced drunk as we want and wouldn’t have to worry about driving. Second, because there are a lot of nuts out there and they WILL DRIVE DRUNK and as luck would have it, they would run into us.
So, we were able to get these two bottles of Piper Heidsieck at a reasonable price from Winn Dixie’s special promotion. We also got two Tombstone Pizzas for $12.00 and with it came a free carton of Breyer’s ice cream, a large Coke and two frozen appetizers…Not bad for $12.00.
We also had two other bottles of champagne in reserve and we go through those as well. A good time will be had by all.
The road from Paramaribo ended in Matapi. I wasn’t aware that this was to be my last assignment with the magazine; my father was still alive but in very delicate condition in a nursing home. All the family business was being conducted through administrators or by subcontractors who were killing us with their exorbitant fees. Curiously, none were doing a good job of either administering or managing any of our properties or businesses. But at that point, I was worried but there was little I could do since my father had a living will that the lawyers were milking and I could not actually take over until his passing.
So off I went to Surinam because there was supposed to be a tribe of Indians descendants of the Arawaks and related to the Tainos who still spoke the Arawak language. They were very small in numbers, by some estimates, not more than 250 spread out over three or four villages on the Sourantine River in Surinam. As I said, I flew from Amsterdam on a 747 KLM flight and it seemed a physical impossibility for that big mother fucker plane to land in such a small airstrip. The airport at Paramaribo is nothing more than a few buildings and a very worn out tarmac in dire need of repairs.
The dilapidated taxi that took three of us from the airport to downtown Paramaribo was in no better shape. We were cramped and in the heat of the morning, already the sun beating down we started to sweat. The two other fellows were some kind of scientists from Holland. They had no idea what was awaiting them nor do I think they were prepared for the hardships that such an environment can present. Imagine, it was snowing when we left Amsterdam and now the heat here could easily have been 95 but because of the humidity it felt hotter, almost suffocating. I was a little bit more used to it since I have even spent months in the jungle before and oftentimes make do without air conditioning because of my extensive travels. But these fellows next to me in the cab were miserable. I thought one of them was going to pass out. He looked like he was fainting. I made the cab driver stop and we got him some cold sodas in a hole in the wall type place along the road.
We arrived at the hotel Eco Resort In, a very unpretentious if not almost run down establishment that would be only 2 stars anywhere, but here it was one of the best.
Waiting for me in the lobby was my guide and host. His name was Filippus, I suppose a form of Philippe in Dutch. He held a degree in anthropology from the University of Amsterdam. He taught at a local college in Paramaribo but it was their spring break and he agreed to be my guide because he made a very little as a professor there. The pay he said was dismal.
Filippus was 28 years old and a very good looking man. His features were so outstandingly beautiful, his face was that of a model. The only thing unusual was his hair; he wore it in very long dreads that stood on end and looked wild, but they were not black, the hair was a light brown color, I don’t think it was tinted as there were no signs of darker roots.
Then there was Pilippus’ body. He stood at 5’11’ and was solid muscle. When I saw him first at the lobby of the hotel I was just floored. My initial thought was: “Hollywood must be missing a star”; he was that good looking.
I went up to the room and he waited for me downstairs in the lobby while I changed clothes and showered. He was going to show me Paramaribo. (all ten minutes of it) There is not much to see in this quaint town of 242,000 people capital of a country of less than half a million.
We drove in his jeep and we went past some of the more important landmarks, the only one I was impressed with was the mosque. It seems they have a very large Hindu and Muslim population in Paramaribo.
We returned to the hotel after a visit to the zoo which I would have rather not done. The cages were empty for the most part and the animals looked sick. This is one zoo that does not need to exist.
But I was so totally fascinated by Filippus.. His conversation was that of a very learned man, much too wise and sophisticated for his age and for a backward remote location as this. He was very articulate and totally fluent in English. I almost felt dwarfed by his knowledge and his experiences. He had traveled a lot in Europe when he was a student but was not able to stay as Surinam was already an independent nation and he was born after 1975 which made him a native Surinamese, not eligible to immigrate to Holland.
The next day we were to spend together preparing for the trip. We went and bought supplies and we set out at five in the morning.
I had a little trouble getting out of bed and of course there was nothing open at that time; so we had to leave on an empty stomach. I was grouchy and sleepy. But filippus was right on the money, alert and charming.
There are very few roads leading out of Paramaribo. This one seemed to be one of the main highways, however, once we were about 15 miles of so out of town, the road began to deteriorate. With each mile we traveled we had to maneuver around gigantic potholes, dead animals, and river crossings that were in my opinion an invitation to disaster if it rained a little. The bridges over the streams and creeks were old and most built out of wood or railroad track-rails.
When we arrived after 9grueling hours of travel to Matapi where the road ended right on the Courantyne river which serves as the boundary between French Guiana and Surinam.
The rest of the trip we were to make In a very primitive canoe with an outboard motor. All through the trip in his jeep, Filippus busted me looking at him. By the time we arrived in Matapi he knew I was gay as his conversation sort of indicated that he was aware of my sexual preference. He didn’t seem to mind.
But when we got in the canoe, we had to sit side by side and his nearness was almost more than I could take. The manliness, the beauty, the scent of man was just driving me nuts. And worse, I was squeezed between the side of the canoe on my right and his beautiful body on my left. What a hunk! I could feel the firmness of his thighs, the tightness of his muscles. He was sweating by now in the morning heat of the jungle and the scent of man that was coming from him was more than stimulating. I was getting a hard on.
After we arrived at this riverside village, both Filippus and I went into the water in this little creek that emptied into the Courantyne. I stripped to my underwear and so did Filippus. Without clothes and almost naked I could appreciate the magnificence of his body. He had cinnamon color skin and very firm abs and chest. His arms were not overdeveloped but the biceps were showing veins and looked hard. I knew they were because when they got in touch with me they felt like rock.
We both cooled off and then he sat on the bank of the creek, we both picked up our bags and he went for his cigarettes. He offered me one and looked at me with a very puzzled look. I asked: “what’s the matter?” He did not answer. We just sat next to each other in silence, smoking just looking at the thick darkness of the jungle canopy in front of us.
Then he broke the silence: “you know, these people live most of their lives in this tiny village and don’t really have a worry in the world”
Me-“That is true, how complicated sometimes we make our lives, it is amazing, isn’t it?”
Filippus- “Richard, pardon me for being so inquisitive, but I couldn’t help noticing you were aroused on our way here. Was I getting you excited?”
Me- “As a matter of fact, you were, and a lot more than you could possibly imagine”
Filippus- “That’s sweet, and it is perfectly acceptable to me, I mean, if you made a pass at me, I would welcome it”
I didn’t have to say any more, I pulled down his blue underwear, still wet from our bath in the creek and out popped the most beautiful cock, uncut and large. Then I noticed that his pubic hair was exactly like the hair on his head: small clumps of tufted dreads, brownish or blondish in color. So that was his natural color, I though. But I had more to worry about now that his dick was in front of my face than worrying about the color of his pubic hair. I went for it and got the big mother fucker in my mouth. It was a nine incher if not more, but much thicker than mine.
What a delight it was to suck such a nice cock. Filippus was producing abundant amounts of pre-cum and it was sweet. Then he asked me if he could fuck me. How can I refuse? We went at it hot and heavy. Yes it did hurt a little because the mother fucker was huge, but once I got the hang of it I felt it was pure pleasure. I think this was one of the thickest cocks I have ever had up my ass with the exception of Hans.
We went at it bareback, so I asked him if I could drink his jizz when he was about to blow his load. He fucked me and fucked me until the moment came. I could feel it dripping down my chin and on to my chest but I wanted not to waste any of it. “oh, oh, Richard, I’m about to finish, yes, yes, oh, do you want it? You said you did”
Me- “Yes, I want it, I want to drink your man juice, all of it”
“ah, ah, oh, oh boy, oh, aaaaahhh….aaaaaaaahh!
And he came hot torrents of sweet man juice into my mouth.
We got to the village and indeed they spoke a very polluted dialect of Palikur which I spoke fluently. By now they couldn’t figure me out. How was this foreigner so proficient in their language?. But you see, theirs is a creole type language, even much simpler than the Palikur it came from. The big difference is that they do count up to twenty, I suppose the limit of their digits and there is a lot of Dutch words that have crept in through the years. If you remember my description of the Palikur speaking tribes of Brazil, they had no use for numbers.
This particular village had about 35 people living in it. Mostly women and older men. The young ones had already migrated to Paramaribo where they took whatever jobs they could. The economy of the village was supplemented by their incomes and they had more amenities than their Brazilian counterparts. There were kerosene stoves and lamplights, there were battery operated radios and they had music blasting at all times of night and day. They did have a weakness for alcoholic beverages and it seems that the old men spent half of their time sleeping off a good drunk.
Upon my return to Paramaribo there was a message in the front desk. It said it was urgent. I called home and was told my father had passed away. I flew immediately to Miami and then to Houston. The funeral was three days later and that is when I quit the magazine.
