The Bard Smacks Down Caligula a L’Orange

Here is what the Bard would like to say to the Orange Menace today:

Oh thou mongrel beef-witted lord, thou fonder than ignorance! Thou rank slave whose gall coins slander like a mint when thou doth ope thy mastic jaws whose words fall from a brain as barren as the banks of Libya. You sodden-witted fusty nut with no kernel when thou dost mouth thy brainsick raptures, whose heaving spleen grows lost in a labyrinth of fury, whose pride is his own glass, his own trumpet, his own chronicle! Knowest not that whatever praises itself but in the deed devours the deed in praise, you orgulous Machievelle that enlards your fat-already pride! You idol of idiot-watchers, you contaminated carion weight, you full dish of foolery, you damnable box of envy! Thou art but a greasy relic of your o’reaten faith whose office is but a sequent maculation upon thy predecessors!

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