The Best of Greetings From Yonkers

Vietvet asked if we could run a best of GFY comments.

When you’re here, you’re like family. We listen and we accommodate.

When Peter UK passed away, one of his last comments was the inspiration for an inscription on the trophy we handed out for the PUK AWARDS-  Make the bastards live by their own words.

The last Greetings From Yonkers comment, one of 3095 comments, is one for the ages.

WikiLeaks: Podesta Asks Clinton’s Lawyer, ‘Think We Should Hold Emails To and From (Obama)?’

It was simply, the non PC retort, “RETARD!”

Not exactly elegant. Not one of her longer comments, but one that sums up her exasperation with the left.

By the way, I’m going to make an executive decision to let you all know her first name because it was a great name.

Her name was Sedra.

 

–Things Bill Clinton requires… A $1,400 hotel phone bill and $700 dinner for two

I’ve heard of rock stars asking for less in their contracts.

 

– 

-“……what I’ve been through……”

Which would be what, exactly? Growing up comfortably in Baby-Boom suburbia? Attending elite institutions of higher learning? Not having to drive for twenty years? Having a trusted aide fetch you your carrots and hummus when you have the craving? Getting $200,000+, plus expenses, to open your yap to anyone stupid enough to listen? Serving terms for three positions (First Lady, Senator, and Secretary of State) for which you were utterly unqualified?

Bitch, you are NOT entitled to play the sympathy card for your husband’s indiscretions–I will slap it out of your hand in a nanosecond. This sick, co-dependent farce you call a marriage could have been ended years ago, as our nation’s laws do allow for divorce. But no, what I called your “First Lady McBeth” shtick has continued to this day–all because your lust for power, privilege, and cold, hard cash is greater than your contempt for the way you’ve been treated.

For years I used to go around saying that you were nothing but Mary Jo Buttafuoco with a law degree. But even Mary Jo ditched her own lying sleaze of a husband.

-Hillary Clinton can kiss my fat white ass. I work in one of the worst ghetto slums in the United States. I do NOT fear police officers; in fact I am always relieved to see them (and I see plenty because of my court’s proximity to Criminal Court). I DO fear the natives. There have been killings, stabbings, and Knockout Game casualties between the courthouse and the train station, a half-mile walk that I have to negotiate twice daily. I would start sweating bullets if some rowdy dindoo nuffin types came onto the train platform as I was waiting for the 5:53. A cop, not so mucc. So Hillary, y0u can once again STUFF IT ’cause you’re wrong again, babe.

-BTW I need you all to pray for me. Tomorrow I will be attending the funeral of Judge Judith S. Kaye, the former Chief Judge of the New York State Court of Appeals, the state’s highest-ranking judge and the titular head of its Unified Court System. It’s going to be a big to-do, at the New York State Theater at Lincoln Center. It’s a lock that Gov. Douchey-Douche will be there. Please, Lord, restrain me from going up to him and assaulting him in his very punchable face. Thank you.

-The only way this video could have been better would be if Trump had called Obama a pussy.

How on Earth is Shrillary going to compete with a guy who can pack a football stadium? Only thing she’ll ever pack is Bill’s bags when she finally kicks him to the curb.

-And even if they were kept out in the first place, who cares? Presumably the event was taking place in space rented by the campaign. Ergo, DJT is entitled to decide who can attend.

This has happened before. It reminds me of a house sale that my mother had in 1994, when she was downsizing from a seven-room house to a four-room apartment. Two black kids, maybe about ten years old, showed up, and my mother wouldn’t let them in the door. “There’s nothing for sale that would interest a young man,” she told them, which was true–it was linens and lamps and stuff.

Damned if the little bastards didn’t call the police! The cop had quite a time explaining to them that it was a PRIVATE event in a PRIVATE setting, and my mother was hardly breaking any law by exercising control over the “guest list.”

– Even as an utterly clueless 18-year-old going out on her first date (in New York City, no less), I somehow knew enough not to drink on dates. I reasoned that I’d be better off if I kept my wits about me.

Don’t drink, and don’t go into a private space with a guy on a date. Abracadabra, your virtues remains intact!

-This particular article only alludes to it right at the end, but the blow back from the suggestion that women going out at night use a “buddy suystem” has been ferocious. For me this is a local story, and I am amazed at how a police commissioner warning young women of certain risks and dangers, then offering tips for their increased safety, could possibly be “sexist.” Oh, right–Bratton has a schlong. He’s the enemy, and an architect of the “War on Women.” Shut dafuck up.

Two words, ladies: Imette St. Guillermo .

You are woman, watch you fall.

-I am a survivor of the American Express diversity program. What a bunch of hooey.

At the time I was required to take the course, such training was de riguer for major American corporations. In the following ten years, I lost four jobs and had to mount job searches.

During my interviews, I realized that nothing had changed. The interviewers looked right past my years of experience, typo-free resumes, my obviously serious attitude towards work, and high scores on tests to focus on nonsense like my appearance. I got blowback on my hair (curly and going gray), lack of makeup and nail polish, wearing a dress to an interview instead of a suit, wearing a suit that was the “wrong” color (royal blue), wearing no jewelry except a wristwatch, my weight (which ranged from 195 to 270 durine the period)……. In my own defense I will state that I ALWAYS left the house showered and shampooed, wearing hose and clothing that was properly laundered and pressed and covered up what needed covering. In the eyes of corporate America, I was a freak. The jobs went to undereducated girly-girls with hot bodies.

So please forgive me if I laugh at any company that talks about its “diversty.” As much trouble as I have with the Unified Court System of New York State, at least they DO NOT DISCRIMINATE, and I can be my frumpy-dumpy, plain-Jane, middle-aged self and concentrate on the quality of my work, which always generates the highest marks on my reviews. This, by the way, is the main reason I took the civil service exam in 2001–I couldn’t stand the thought of going to more interviews and being judged by these corporate douchebags.

-(On winning the Mega-Millions)

I don’t know from hookers and cocaine, but here’s my plan:

1) Quit my job. I will lie to get my point across. “I’ve been offered a job with the Trump campaign. I have decided to accept it because it comes with a matchless feature that this job can’t offer me: the chance to work alongside adults who behave professionally.”

2) Yoooge donations to worthwhile charities such as Judicial Watch.

3) A visit to Aunt Ruthie and Uncle George in Tarpon Springs, Florida. Visit to include a sitdown with Fur, in which I ask, “What would you do with the website if money were no object? Because baby, it ain’t anymore.”

4) Fly from Florida to Dallas to purchase condo in Turtle Creek. Upon return to New York, pack, call the Governor’s mansion and tell Governor Douchey-Douche to kiss my fat ass, and GET THE HELL OUT OF NEW YORK.

-Well, knock my fat ass over with a feather!

-I’ve had a double mastectomy and have to wear silicone breast forms with a special bra so my clothes fit properly. Sometimes when I’m in jeans and a t-shirt I just can’t be bothered, and I skip the bra/forms.

After too many “Sirs,” I wised up and had my ears pierced. I wear only “girly” style earrings so people KNOW.

This bitch needs to do likewise. It’s a small price to pay to eradicate confusion.

-GREETINGS FROM YONKERS’ “FUCK YOU, MOOCH”
SPECIAL HIGH-CALORIE, HIGH CHOLESTEROL
VALENTINE’S DAY DESSERT TREAT

In saucepan, mix 3/4 cup sugar and 1 tablespoon plain unflavored gelatin. Whisk in 1 pint heavy cream and cook over low flame, stirring constantly, until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat and whisk in 1 pint sour cream and 1 tablespoon vanilla flavoring. Pour into 1-quart heart-shaped mold and refrigerate overnight.

Unmold. If you have trouble getting the dessert to come out of the mold, dip the mold into a sinkful of hot water. Serve topped with fresh, hulled, halved strawberries and grenadine syrup.

-I knew Chelsea was a brat ever since Mommy and Fauxdaddy bought her a $10 million apartment.

When I left home to attend college, I practically had to get down on my knees to get my mother to spring g $10 for a steam iron so I could keep my clothes pressed while I lived in the dorm.

-HILLARY  TO-DO LIST
Monday, October 10, 2016

1. Have office cancel all Columbus Day appearances. Fuck the guineas; they’re mostly “little people” anyway.
2. Get list of top divorce lawyers in White Plains, Manhattan.
3. Nookie w/ H?
4. Speak to Chelsea about importance of smiling AT ALL TIMES at my appearances. (“What if your face froze like that, dear?”) (It would be a fucking improvement!-gfy)
5. MUST use body double on October 19!!!

–

The moderators were a disgrace. Nothing like having some little chocolate starfish licker with his knickers in a twist over candid remarks about women made by a red-blooded hetero male.

And I’ll repeat my question from the open thread last night: is Martha Rat’s Ass a male-to-female pre-op? Gad, what a mug! And Her voice makes Shrillary sound absolutely melliflous.

Can’t CNN giver her some cushy, behind-the-scenes editor job?

-Chelsea looks like a caterpillar just crawled up her ass.

-That was very satisfying!

BTW, I wasn’t worried or nervous. I knew Trump would rise to the occasion.

Trump by a landslide.

-I love dogs. I’ve only had cats but would like to adopt a dog when I retire.

Best wishes to all our little canine friends from Auntie Yonkers and Cousins Sasha and Yong.