Normally when we do a “W.W.Y.B.” piece, it’s based around the actions of some poor soul who could’ve avoided some self-inflicted embarrassment with a handful of well-placed words from someone who gives a damn.
But seeing as how the homie Geraldo Rivera decided to set land-speed records for failure in the month of July to be rivaled by only Yeezus himself, we may have to have a different discussion…
Dude, where were your meds?
First you make the rocket scientist smart decision as a minority journalist to come out in favor of George Zimmerman, basically cosigning the legalization of racial profiling and anything it leads to, (including in this case, murder) when it comes to young black men… but before the ink is even dry on your stupidity, you bring your funny face to a Trayvon Martin justice rally?
Somebody fire that nurse. Uncle Gerry done got into the street again…
As if that didn’t take the taco, on an unhinged quest for what could only be the grand-cougar poon patrol, Geraldo and his original molester mustache took a towel-only selfie to declare that “70 was the new 50.”
Somebody cut off the computer, Uncle Gerry done got on the Internet again…
And somewhere in the world after wondering why Popeye’s pops is on his computer screen, Wyclef weeps.
I’m not gonna blame this on his family, his job or the staff at the Happy Acres Home for Unhinged Journalists… And don’t get insulted, I’ve got nothing against the mentally challenged (and I have no intention of pulling a J Cole. NOPE! ) And while Geraldo wants to blame a bottle of Cuervo Tequila, I’m gonna put this one square on the shoulders of the Republican Party. That’s right. We, the American people, have to deal with crackpot chat on the tube and half naked Jurassic ass on the Internet… all because you fools couldn’t deal with one word in congress:
If Uncle Gerry had his meds, this wouldn’t have happened.
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