Shrub to the Boy Scouts: Fuck Off
Yesterday, approximately 300 Boy Scouts were treated for heat-related conditions after waiting for hours in extreme heat for the Shrub to show up, who cancelled at the last minute because it was too hot.
To make matters worse, one of the reasons so many succumbed to the heat was the Shrub only allowed people to bring in one or two bottles of water into the event because of security concerns.
It’s been a tough week for the Boy Scouts, who are holding a jamboree in the D.C. area. Earlier in the week, four scout leaders were electrocuted when the tent pole they were trying to put up made contact with a power line. The Shrub was to talk about the accident in his speech to the Boy Scouts, but decided to tell the relatives of the deceased to fuck off as well.
I know what you're thinking. The Boy Scouts discriminate anyway, so let them fry.
To make matters worse, one of the reasons so many succumbed to the heat was the Shrub only allowed people to bring in one or two bottles of water into the event because of security concerns.
It’s been a tough week for the Boy Scouts, who are holding a jamboree in the D.C. area. Earlier in the week, four scout leaders were electrocuted when the tent pole they were trying to put up made contact with a power line. The Shrub was to talk about the accident in his speech to the Boy Scouts, but decided to tell the relatives of the deceased to fuck off as well.
I know what you're thinking. The Boy Scouts discriminate anyway, so let them fry.
posted by DC-Giant at 10:13 AM
1 Comments:
Hungary Man to Giant: Fuck Me? Fuck YOU!"
Clearly you have never experienced the brotherhood and closeness that is the Boy Scouts of America. Most likely you thought the neckkerchiefs would clash with your "Reagan Youth" t-shirt that you wore everyday before you had your epiphany and converted from strident right winger to strident left winger.
This whole fiasco reminds me of my one disastrous camp-o-ree (a local version of the jam-bo-ree) as a Boy Scout. After a very successful career as a Cub Scout and Webelos (the awkward, spindly legged, acne-faced transitional phase of scouting), I attended my first overnighter as a seventh grader. My tentmates, who were a couple of years older, brought a bottle of whisky in with them, and when I wouldn't drink it (I was 11 years old, for chrissakes), they pulled the tent pole out while I was sleeping and I awoke almost smothered in my own pup tent. I supposed I could have "pitched a tent" of my own and just gotten through it like a man, but I chose instead to file a complaint against the local troop. I was completely stonewalled, no apology ever came, and I never went back to the BSA. My kerchief and empty merit badge belt have long since disappeared, yet after all these years, I am still resisting the urge to laugh at the discomfort of all those sweaty little punks who choose to follow the Way of the Eagle. I do feel pretty horrible about the 4 Scoutmasters who died, however. They were most certainly there against their will, having given up a weekend of beer and sports to sweat in the middle of a Tidewater VA field with a bunch of brownshirted completely and unequivocally non-gay heterosexual little stormtroopers. Atten-shun!
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