BY David Glenn Cox
It was a few years back, they were planning a reunion of the original cast of Saturday Night Live. The surviving cast members were all amenable, but they all made one similar request. If Chevy Chase was invited, the rest weren’t coming. It’s kind of like those uncomfortable school functions after the divorce. “Well, good game, see ya.” This week the annual C-PAC conference (Conservative Paramilitary Assault Conference) will open in Orlando, giving Trumpy home field advantage. Like SNL, the announcement of the Orange one’s appearance was enough to thin the guest list considerably. Most notably the most famous man in the witness protection program, former Vice President Mike Pence.
Since January 6th Pence is a self-made man and has made himself scarce. The announcement that the orange one would speak prompted a near immediate announcement from the Pence camp, “Then, I ain’t coming.” Pence was the Lee Harvey Oswald in all of this, the sap hired to pull the trigger and get nothing out of it. Caught between a rock and a Trump place, “he wouldn’t have sent that angry mob after you if you had just committed treason. Like he asked you to in the first place, and he asked nicely!” So Trumpy painted a target on his back and Mike Pence being a man of Mid-Western sensibilities. If you try to set him up and potentially have him killed even once. He might be too polite to say so or be genuinely terrified, but he’s done with you.
Talk about tense, this year’s C-PAC conference will be like the Greater East Los Angeles Gang Banger of the Year awards banquet, with an open bar. Among the notables not appearing this year will be Mitch McConnell. Why would a Conservative conference want the highest-ranking elected Republican official hanging around? Not when you can have orange Jesus making his grand reintroduction to society. A coronation ceremony for King Donald of Orange. Where they all get sworn into the orange mafia and have a Mass card burning in their hand. Pete Seeger picking his banjo; “Which side are you on boy? Which side are you on?”
I (state your name,) do solemnly swear my true allegiance and felty to the orange one. I promise not to ever turn state’s evidence or to wear a wire. I promise never to talk to the FBI under penalty of being thrown under the bus, so help me Trump.
I can only imagine the fun and educational events planned, “Books – Who Needs Them?” Or perhaps the vendors display, “Heavy Artillery for home defense.” Meet Donald Trump Jr. in the Cocaine and Meth tent! Meet Eric Trump! If found report to concierge. Ted Cruz will host; “Family Get Aways, the do’s and don’ts.” Josh Hawley will give us a reading from his new book, “They can’t call you Hitler if you don’t have a moustache.”
Rudy Giuliani will be working the floor in the Jose Cuervo tent sponsored by My Pillow. At 6:00 is the ever popular annual event, “How slurred is her speech?” Contestants try to untangle Sarah Palin video clips for valuable prizes, including all expense paid trips to Cancun!
The circus comes to town, it’s Pee Wee’s playhouse and My little Nazi Party all rolled into one. A crowd so evil, they don’t have a shuttle bus they draw a pentagram on the floor and conjure the guests from the airport. Florida Governor, Ron De Santis will lead a discussion group, “Vaccines – Why the Elderly Complain So Much.”
But swag, swag, swag! Don’t forget your swag bag! A genuine 9-mm handgun perfect for those long days legislating on Capitol hill, courtesy of Glock. A lovely mens or ladies Rolex watch set to a time many years ago. Two cartons of Kool cigarettes, a half a bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey, courtesy of Rudy Giuliani. Valuable coupons good for Poppa John’s Pizza, Poppa John’s, the official pizza of basket weavers everywhere and pee wee football teams in Nevada and Western Kentucky!
This is what it would be like if the Nazis had hosted Woodstock. “Come, join the circle jerk, Yah?” The high-water mark of a low gene pool. “Fishing for Bottom Feeders! With Bill Dance!” In the Republican parlance of us and them, this would definitely be, them. As in, they Came from Outer Space to a world where campaign contributions were alien to them. A world where traditional Republican donors scream and run away in terror. A world where traditional media abhors them like nature, for the vacuum they are.
There is a point where the bon fire burns hottest then the fire dies out leaving behind smoke and ashes. It looked good for a while then the gold run out. Leaving behind the odd ends of careers and those without a bus schedule or the good sense to buy an umbrella. They have hitched their wagon to Donald of Orange and still believe they have a future in politics. They haven’t caught on, that Donald Trump is the past and if they tie themselves to the past, that’s where they will end up. Suckers and sock puppets for President use to be.
The orange Odysseus has heard the sirens call and steers the ship toward the rocks of lunacy in the sea of madness. A Party of no principles other than whatever Trump feels like today. And Trump feels like vengeance, just like every day. A party dedicated to privilege and whiny complaints of not being privileged enough. “Look, I don’t complain when you take your kids to Cancun for the weekend!”
Jim Morrison called it…the end.
This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end of our elaborate plans
The end of everything that stands
No safety or surprise
I’ll never look into your eyes again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need of
some strangers hand
In a desperate land
Lost in a Roman wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain
There’s danger on the edge of town
Ride the king’s highway
Weird scenes inside the goldmine
Ride the highway
Ride the snake