...because I relished voting against Andre Carson, even if only as a sort of fruitless performance art, like few other things in the futile farce that is modern American politics. Hell, the opportunity to vote against Andre Carson is almost single-handedly what got me voting again after a long sabbatical. I scratched that #2 pencil in the little circle with rage that burns like the hearts of a billion suns at the blatant nepotism that parked this practically uniquely unqualified boob in the chair vacated by his career machine politician grandma once things got a little too Weekend At Bernie's on the House floor.
This genial ex-liquor cop's head is emptier than than a vegan restaurant at a cattleman's convention but because he had the right pedigree his gradually widening backside is parked in a chair on the House Committee on Financial Services, which is like... comparisons fail me... which is like putting me in charge of the Large Hadron Collider ("Hell, Doc, just turn up the juice and see what shakes loose.")
Madrassas as inspirational sources of, and I quote, "innovation and ingenuity"? Seriously, what innovation or ingenuity has come out of a Madrassa except innovative ways of packing more nails into your semtex jock strap for an ingenious fragmentation effect? (...and don't say "algebra", because what have you done for me lately?)