If you've been living under a big yellow rock then you are blissfully unaware that Europe is being taken over by Muslims streaming in from Syria. Marching in lock step, they have insinuated themselves upon the population, and effectively halted the progress of the last fifty years, not to mention providing all those lovely pictures of women with their heads bashed in, and crashing tables at sidewalk cafes.
Bowing before the gods of political correctness, the various governments have served up their respective countries on a silver platter for the Muslims to feast on. That's the good news! The bad news is they're on the way here! Forget America, Obama has screwed, stewed, and tattooed that. The only hope left is Texas.
As you may recall, ISIS took a swing at our little “Draw Mohammed” contest in Garland, and we had to convert to a draw dead terrorists on the parking lot, whereupon the Jihadists scurried like the bitches they were and Pamela Geller just carved two more notches on her gun. Simultaneous to this Angela Box is continually having her way with Quanum X down in Houston and at least twenty militias around the state are just praying ISIS will make another attempt to replace the Lone Star with a crescent moon. To put it in Killeen vernacular Homey don't play that!
Texas is poised for war. We were going to secede, but shucks, we don't gotta do that. When Obama gets through there won't be anything to secede from! I've said America is lost, but we can still save Texas, and that's about it. Americans need to be on notice that Texas is not going to go the way of Europe. Not only are the Muslims not going to impose Sharia Law, they're not going to pour out one beer! We are the people who'll back up into a church and shoot at you, and don't throw numbers at us because we already proved at the Alamo that we can't count to five thousand.
So, make fun of our drawl, our hats, boots, pickup trucks, guns, and our crippled up Governor. Call us racist, wave Rainbow flags at us and let California talk show hosts poke fun at our God. When the fertilizer hits the fan, and you all run for cover, we’re all you got!
Yours truly,
Bill the Butcher
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