By David Glenn Cox
If you were to get into a submersible and dive to the bottom of deepest part of the ocean you would never see anything lower or more macabre than the spectacle at Mount Rushmore last night. America’s Nuremberg rally with a touch of Alfred Hitchcock on the side. “Herr Himmler, strike up the band!” Lab rats in a controlled environment in a crucible of contagion. Der Fuhrer gives us his “They’re out to get us” speech. Dangerous radicals out to propagandize our children! Out to take away our heroes and make us feel bad about ourselves.
The memory of this event will last a long time as you can’t get the taste from your mouth. This will be taught in history books long after we are dust. The Cheeto reenacts the Nuremberg rallies bastardizing the day of our nations birth. He gives us a speech lifted from the pages of the third Reich. We’ve all said it, “this guys a freaking Nazi.” But this is it! This is the actual event, a Nazi Party rally. Using a Mountain monument as substitute for all of our “sacred monuments” From our glorious past they want to tear down. I bet a stable genius thought that up. This is the point in the speech where his German counterpart would scream, “but I’m not going to let them!” Brain dead Barbie shouts from the crowd, “Not on my watch!” and Der Fuhrer smiled a smile of pure joy. The jury is in, they aren’t smarter than fifth graders.
A Jim Jones the suckers are hooked smile with fly overs and all the Kool aid you can drink. Germany never lost World War One you know; she was betrayed by people on the inside. Bureaucrats and Industrialists, liberals and Communists. They stabbed Germany in the back for their own ends. Today they are called the deep state, the November criminals, or the gang of four. Imaginary villains out to take the state down from the inside. Wreckers and despoilers of five-year plans. But there is salvation, there is hope. There is only one man who can save Germany from the heathen horde.
The Cheeto was blowing every dog whistle he could as hard as he could in a nearly a made for TV Klan rally spectacular. But Klan/Nazi the only difference is the color of the uniform and the meeting times. A spectacle that must frighten our European allies out of their wits. Ordinary Germans must be saying to themselves, “Oh shit, we read about this in history class.” Americans don’t need history classes not when Uncle Donald is going to read from his 1958 third grade primer. We’s good, we’s perfect everyone wants to be us, and god loves us best and admires us for our ambition.
A state of the union address for the United States of Fiction. Setting up the straw men then knocking them down one by one as the crowd goes wild! USA! USA! USA! Seig Hiel! Seig Hiel! Seig Hiel! The smell of red herring must have been overwhelming. The crowd was there to see the President. It ain’t about America or birthdays or figures carved into rock this was a cult meeting of Donald Trump’s Heaven’s Gate Club. They showed up early and sit in the sun waiting patiently (pun intended) because if you don’t get there early all the best infections will be gone. Just sitting there talking and breathing and taking it all in. Getting up to get a drink or to use the restroom. Coming in close proximity to hundreds of people and not a mask to be seen anywhere. It boggles the mind.
I used to live in what they called a drive through tourist town. Montgomery was too close to Florida beaches to hold tourists for long. I wonder how many attending the Klan rally last night were locals and how many were tourists on vacation on their way home bringing souvenirs to a neighborhood near you. There is no historical parallel to this never has a leader held a rally encouraging his followers to flaunt illness and death. A kamikaze pilot signup sheet, a shark repellent tester. “Don dropped his watch in the piranha tank, and he’s asked me to go get it. Good thing its waterproof!”
The Cheeto was making love to the podium smothering it like an octopus. This is Don the Con in all his raging glory. Der Fuhrer over all of the little scared people. The bigots and homophobes the night riders and hood wearers. Christian mutants and lost souls. The people who never understood what this country is about in the first place. Too thick headed to grasp the concept of microbial invisible menace while fixated on the invisible menace of someone’s skin or religion or ancestry. Daring the faithful, “Come unto me, trust me. Step out of the boat you won’t get wet, I promise.”
The Cheeto performs a fiction. There’s no pandemic. You don’t need a mask. Trust me it’ll be alright! You’ve been married thirty years you needed a new wife or husband anyway. The amount of potential pain and sadness generated by this event is incalculable. To knowingly encourage unsafe inappropriate and potentially lethal behavior is selling tickets for a flight you know is going to crash and is a crime against humanity of the highest order.
“Baravelli may look like an idiot and talk like an idiot but don’t let that fool you…he really is an idiot.” – Groucho Marx
The Cheeto knows what he did last night and knows why. It is Fourth and long for the orange team, time to launch the V-2’s and damn the civilian casualties. To insist most pointedly that it is all over fake news nothing to worry about in the face of factual evidence is something beyond astounding and without precedent. The President knows what he did last night. He shit on America and on all of her finest ideals cutting out patriotic idiotic paper dolls inside of his own masturbatory fantasy while encouraging the lemmings to jump. Put on your jump suits children the UFO is almost here!