In a knock-‘em-down-and-stomp-‘em essay in the Daily Beast,
horror novelist Stephen King minces no words, not even the four letter ones.
For example, there’s this:
“I’ve known rich people, and
why not, since I’m one of them? The majority would rather douse their dicks
with lighter fluid, strike a match, and dance around singing “Disco Inferno”
than pay one more cent in taxes to Uncle Sugar.”
But why should I quote snippets
of King out of context when you can read the whole enraged, hard-hitting,
spare-no-epithets piece in one delicious gulp.
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