How does it feel to wake up on a nice, cool May Saturday morning, a Venti Starbucks in one hand, the sports section in the other, realizing that you’ve just been sold down the river for a bunch of shekels?

Remember all those stirring Free Speech Coalition, Winston Churchill rah-rah pep talks back on St. Patty’s Day about how the FSC was heading for San Francisco to fight Stuart Lawley and the ICM Registry on the beaches of Castro Street?

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