Politically Correct

To be politically correct now days is a bunch of hoopla if you ask me. Call a spade a spade, a shovel a shovel and a damn ho a hoe. Nothing in life needs to be so darn serious that you can't express your feelings, heck, sometimes I run outside and just yell rape to see who all will come running. Usually nobody, but who cares, until that one time, when it does happen and I am walking like a penguin on crack for a few weeks.
I guess now days, to be politically correct, you have to say one thing, but mean another, tell people what they want to hear and do the opposite, and it never fails, no matter what you do in life, some asshole is always going to be there to take it wrong and point it out. Like the kid that use to point at the girls who had maxi pads stuck to their back going down the hall at school I put on them. That one asshole ruined alot of fun and humor. Well, he did his time, probably even narked a few friends out, cause that's how he rolled. And now he is walking around with a loose end and can't rip a fart cause he is so stretched out it just whisp out.
But, to be a mayor, and tell everyone, including media that someone has resigned, with no resignation letter in hand, and then wonder why your the jack in the box, I guess that is a trick in the How to be Obama handbook. I haven't read it, but the mayor does eat alot of chicken. So basically, what I have learned, is that to politically correct, takes balls. I think I am going to change this meaning, and start just doing whatever the hell I think needs to be done, starting by just shooting before I open the door. So if you read this, knock and step aside. People are going to think I have a teenage daughter and some dude is trying to take her out, but oh well, they need to know this politically correct dude ain't playing Washington D.C. games. The D.C. means Dummy Central in case you didn't know. Well, someone is a knocking now, time for me to knock back, don't be silly wrap ole willy.