1.4 billion dollars.
That doesn’t sound too altogether bad.
One billion, four hundred million dollars.
Sweet Shivering Shiva. I honestly don’t know whether to spit or have a stroke.
For those of you who’d rather have the synopsis: That one billion, four hundred million dollars is the amount of YOUR money and MY money that was supposed to be used for disaster relief after Katrina/Rita, but was, apparently, not.
It seems that, pardon my aneurysm, that this one billion, four hundred million tax dollars was spent — not on food, water or the necessities of life — but, rather on such items as:
Season tickets to New Orleans Saints football games;
One week vacation in the Caribbean;
Various sex toys;
“Girls Gone Wild” DVDs; and
The services of a divorce lawyer.
On top of the other things like double-billed housing assistance and other aid fraud.
There are no words to describe my feelings on this matter. None.
I want to know, and I want to know right bloody skippy now, how much of this fraud has been committed by genuine victims of the hurricanes. In other words, I want to know how many people took their legitimate aid cards and bought non-essential things.
I realize that I shall never know these figures, because some-sodding-body is going to declare the results to be racist.
I’m going to tell you what: Between that jackass in his New York Holiday Inn, and the other jackasses relecting Ray “The Fed Gov’t Needs To Get Off Their Asses And Save Mine” Nagin, and now this little jewel, I have just about HAD IT with the Katrina/Rita debacle.
And don’t go blaming this crap on FEMA. Too many Congress-critters, Senate Things, Black Caucuses, commentators and other folks who think they’re actually important were flaming FEMA for delays at the time, there was no way this side of Annwyn that FEMA was going to take the time to properly check each applicant, causing more delays and catching even more grief.
You insignificant flyspecks decided to get six-feet up FEMAs fourth point of contact with your politicized horse manure, you ought to have to deal with the consequences, you insufferable little oiks.
Instead of accepting their part of the responsibility for this One Billion, Four Hundred Million Dollar goat-rope, Congress is suggesting, and I quote:
“Prosecutors from the federal level down should be looking at prosecuting these crimes and putting the criminals who committed them in jail for a long time.”
Yeah, that’s going to happen. About five minutes after my legions of flying monkeys complete my quest for World Domination.
Jail, my furry chapped butt. I want to see public floggings and crucifixions, Godsdamnit.
I want to see the dirty, rotten, worthless sack of trash who used a FEMA card to buy “Girls Gone Wild” get that DVD nailed to his forehead on national TeeVee.
I want to see empty Dom Perignon bottles kicked up until the oxygen thief who purchased the booze with disaster relief money — MY DAMNED TAX MONEY –chokes on the foil in the back of his throat.
I want to see … This … You have no idea …
One. BILLION. Four. HUNDRED. MILLION. Tax dollars.
My dollars. I sweated, bled and worked my arse off for those dollars. Forty, fifty and sixty hour work weeks, so the Gov’t could take the money out of my pocket and give — GIVE! — it to the poor, starving survivors of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita.
Caribbean-sodding-vacation. Dom-bloody-Perignon. Shagging toys.
I’m here to tell you, some people can officially GO TO HELL on this one, and you know who the hell you are, too.