By David Glenn Cox
Kudos to the Tic tok users who scarfed up all the tickets to Grand pa Donny’s Amazing Juneteenth Adventure. You should all get life saving metals and laugh yourselves silly. Let’s see, that’s four hundred tickets for Mr. & Ms. R.U. Kidding of 123 Bitch Please Parkway, Tulsa, Oklahoma. Rusty Bedsprings will be attending along with some three hundred of his friends, and Mike Hunt has reserved two hundred and fifty tickets. There’s just something in the excitement of a prank because A. it’s funny and B. because they fell for it. Vaudeville comedians all knew the biggest laugh came from putting a pie right in the face of a big shot. George W. only had a shoe thrown at him and to his credit dodged it but a big crème pie right in the bazzoo…priceless.
Only the prank does screw up the statistics, if you were trying to map the morons per square mile in the Greater Tulsa Area your work was severely hobbled. Orange grand pa’s rally reminded me of the Heavens Gate cult, the dancing, and the joy. “Put on your track shoes everyone! The UFO will be here any minute!” Trusting to the end. That’s the beauty of the QAnon plot line because the worse things look the better, they actually are. The Orangemen of the Administration quickly put out the lie that thousands were prevented entry to the event because of protestors blocking the metal detectors. A targeted high caliber lie aimed directly at the folks who would hold the cable TV installer at gun point for police suspecting an ANTIFA infiltration.
To the average book reading gum chewing not related to anyone by blood and marriage person on the street this is all fantastical non-sense. But if you are a member of the secret club you know where to get the best prices on track shoes and know when the UFO is coming. Besides today’s Twenty-first Century moron demand more than just the simple, here’s your lie now be off with ya. Nixon could get away with saying, “I have a secret plan to end the Vietnam War and I’ll tell you all about it right after the election. Got it all laid out right here in my pocket you’re gonna love it!” Ronny Reagan could say “well,” pausing like grand pa Walton “I don’t know about that I’ll have to ask Nancy.”
But in our media maelstrom with so many venues competing for the average moron’s synapse capacity and limited attention span it means you gotta make it pop. It’s got to be back of the cereal box exciting. Grand pa Donny and “The Case of the Scary Ramp.” Grand pa Donny, mild mannered orange President of the United States by day is actually a super genius. From his laboratory he has devised a super-secret super genius plan to catch all the criminals and Democrats and corrupt officials in one net and in one fell swoop but first he has to tells us all about the perils of negotiating a scary ramp.
This happens every time the kids who aren’t cool think they are cool, “Hey everybody I’ve got Neil Diamond records! Let’s Party!” I’ll fire the Federal Prosecutor and you move the furniture. I’ll let the air out of their tires, so they can’t come after us after the elections. You quit, “No I didn’t” then the President fires you. “No, he didn’t.” How bad must you want someone gone that you’ll pull a stunt like this a hundred and thirty something days before an election? Before America entered the Trump Dimension where reality no longer applies. This by itself would be fatal to an incumbent campaign. Nixon fired the special prosecutor investigating him, and it was soon off to home in California.
It takes on a Battle of the Bulge theme that one last push, we’ll fire the Federal prosecutors and make for Antwerp. Then we will be heroes and win re-election. Only reelection can save them, giving them time to outrun the statutes of limitations. These friends and associates of the Cheeto might start saying things and making deals if the Cheeto’s no longer going to be the big cheese. Was the rally an elaborate super genius plan to create a distraction while Barr chloroforms the Justice Department? A big noise to cover blowing the safe or just moronic good luck? The sun also shines on those, not that bright.
The one thing you have to say about the Cheeto, he knows how to take a punch. A boxing palooka past his prime just trying to make one more round. It was good to be in the ring again and be the center of attention again with the bright lights and clanging of the bell. To speak to his followers and to America to tell them his vision for America, “I had to salute like six hundred times and that ramp was slick!”
Nothing about George Floyd. Everything about Donald Trump.
A Twilight Zone vision of megalomania where thousands risk life and limb to hear Grandpa Donny tell his amazing story about the scary ramp at West Point and how he mastered the challenge. I would have liked to have known the actual attendance of the rally. To have hopefully seen the number decline on its own because there’s not much sadder than a rock star playing an empty arena. The bulge attack has failed and will fall back for the coming Battle of Berlin. That last stand at the Chancellery before the cyanide and the witness protection program takes hold.
The geriatric ramblings defeat themselves. The difficulty in negotiating a ramp is not nearly as troubling as Grand pa Donny’s compulsive need to tell us about it.