Posted on 07/03/2020 11:12:15 AM PDT by governsleastgovernsbest
Could Joe Scarborough be on the verge of one of those later-in-life, dramatic, personal transformations? Working through his personal history, and consumed with hatred of Donald Trump, could Joe end his days in a state of religious fervor, transforming from TV personality into unordained preacher, roaming the country, declaring and repenting for his life of sin, and bidding others to join him in his search for redemption?
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The possibility is posed after Scarborough opened today's Morning Joe wtih yet another of his quasi-religous sermons, complete with table-pounding, and needle-pinning screams. The gist was that Dr. Fauci is simply telling the truth about the virus, whereas President Trump has been peddling lies. Joe begged people to believe Fauci.
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(Excerpt) Read more at newsbusters.org ...
I can seriously imagine Scarborough having some dramatic life transformation. The guy is really on the edge. I wonder if at times Mika watches his during these unhinged rants and wonders: what the heck did I marry?
Ping to Liberal Media Criticism list.
Isn’t that the guy who killed his intern?
Put a human head on an animal. Fauxi’s head fits on a worm, Gates’ on a jackass. Apologies to the animal kingdom. Man is The Most Dangerous Game.
“No animal had a chance with me any more. That is no boast; it is a mathematical certainty. The animal had nothing but his legs and his instinct. Instinct is no match for reason. When I thought of this it was a tragic moment for me, I can tell you.”
Rainsford leaned across the table, absorbed in what his host was saying.
“It came to me as an inspiration what I must do,” the general went on.
“And that was?”
The general smiled the quiet smile of one who has faced an obstacle and surmounted it with success. “I had to invent a new animal to hunt,” he said.
“A new animal? You’re joking.” “Not at all,” said the general. “I never joke about hunting. I needed a new animal. I found one. So I bought this island built this house, and here I do my hunting. The island is perfect for my purposes—there are jungles with a maze of traits in them, hills, swamps—”
“But the animal, General Zaroff?”
“Oh,” said the general, “it supplies me with the most exciting hunting in the world. No other hunting compares with it for an instant. Every day I hunt, and I never grow bored now, for I have a quarry with which I can match my wits.”
Rainsford’s bewilderment showed in his face.
“I wanted the ideal animal to hunt,” explained the general. “So I said, `What are the attributes of an ideal quarry?’ And the answer was, of course, `It must have courage, cunning, and, above all, it must be able to reason.”’
“But no animal can reason,” objected Rainsford.
“My dear fellow,” said the general, “there is one that can.”
“But you can’t mean—” gasped Rainsford.
“And why not?”
“I can’t believe you are serious, General Zaroff. This is a grisly joke.”
“Why should I not be serious? I am speaking of hunting.”
“Hunting? Great Guns, General Zaroff, what you speak of is murder.”
The general laughed with entire good nature. He regarded Rainsford quizzically. “I refuse to believe that so modern and civilized a young man as you seem to be harbors romantic ideas about the value of human life. Surely your experiences in the war—”
“Did not make me condone cold-blooded murder,” finished Rainsford stiffly.
Laughter shook the general. “How extraordinarily droll you are!” he said. “One does not expect nowadays to find a young man of the educated class, even in America, with such a naive, and, if I may say so, mid-Victorian point of view. It’s like finding a snuffbox in a limousine. Ah, well, doubtless you had Puritan ancestors. So many Americans appear to have had. I’ll wager you’ll forget your notions when you go hunting with me. You’ve a genuine new thrill in store for you, Mr. Rainsford.”
“Thank you, I’m a hunter, not a murderer.”
“Dear me,” said the general, quite unruffled, “again that unpleasant word. But I think I can show you that your scruples are quite ill founded.”
“Yes?”
“Life is for the strong, to be lived by the strong, and, if needs be, taken by the strong. The weak of the world were put here to give the strong pleasure. I am strong. Why should I not use my gift? If I wish to hunt, why should I not? I hunt the scum of the earth:
“The Most Dangerous Game” - Richard Connell
Fauxi and Trey Billygoat Gates are the scum of the earth. Eugenicists in the Softkill Army of the Super elites.
Arm up.
Worm head with his buddies...
I’d pay $10 to see his mindless, leftist head explode on TV.
“Right out of the box” is right on.
Which box,Fruit Loops,Cracker Jacks Loonet Tunes,this guy is classic TDS. Hope he has a major stroke
FAUCI’s list of mistakes on COVID-19 continues to grow.
Low IQ Joe remains an ASSHOLE.
“...could Joe end his days in a state of religious fervor, transforming from TV personality into unordained preacher”
Could he become mad as Hell and not able to take this anymore?
Remember how Howard Beale ended up...
Which time?
Two big mouths of very little credibility.
Believe in the Easter Bunny!!
***his quasi-religous sermons, complete with table-pounding,***
I remember reading of a preacher who wrote his sermons ahead of time and noted on one about a weak passage..”Weak Point! POUND PULPIT!”
Wow, I did not see this, but he sounds disturbed. It is sad, but she take him in good health and, unfortunately, what appears to be bad.
Thanks glgb.
Yet.
Joe taught Sunday school at First Baptist Church in Pensacola around 1993.
Represented Michael Griffin for a very short time in the murder of abortionist David Gunn
Should I believe him when he tells me to wear a mask or when he tells me not to?
’Zackly!!! 😆
He’s operating in another spirit. Spirit of YHVH (God) isn’t confused about what is true.
Here’s an interesting quote from fauchi: “Quack! Quack! Quack! Quack!”
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