This Carbon Based Life

By David Glenn Cox

It is easy for me to understand why Rand Paul’s neighbor beat him up. If such an opportunity were to present itself again, I would gladly hold the gentleman’s coat for him. Rand’s giddy as a schoolboy. “Isn’t it great?” He’s not only ready to destabilize his own country, now he wants to start in on the folks next door.

You see the truckers in Canada have a grievance, and Paul wishes to exploit that for his own ends. But if you look closely, you can almost see the fear in his eyes. It’s all slipping away momma, and the tide is going out. The sun also rises, but not around here! “Holy shit Batman! We’ve got to do something! Maybe a war or a disaster or something, that be great.

Think of the stories we could invent! Maybe Yellowstone could explode in a massive eruption and kill millions instantly, that be awesome! Take that Joe Biden! Let’s go Brandon! That would really help us in November. The Biden Administration was totally unprepared for a catastrophic, once in an eon apocalyptic volcanic eruption.

Paul hopes the protest spreads and constricts the economy, and people lose their jobs, that would be awesome. But ask yourself this, why does Rand Paul want things to get worse? Because things are so terrible for the Republicans right now! It’s like the end of a Space Invaders game and all the shields are almost gone, so you have to keep moving or you get hit.

Every day, every hour of the day, new revelations emerge from the Twump Administration. We know now, why Twump obsessed over toilets and low water pressure. “Gee, when I flushed documents down the toilet in New York in my private life, I never had this problem.” But I also heard it mentioned that there were 17 or something fireplaces in the White House.

Obviously, they were wise enough to never allow Donald Twump to play with matches in a 200-year-old house. To never even give him that idea in first place. Don’t even tell him those work. “No sir, decorative only.”

But the name of the game now is pile on. After twenty-five bomb hits and twelve torpedoes strikes, the Yamato slipped beneath the waves. In court, till the last day of your life and till the last check of your checkbook too. And at this point, it would be cost effective for Twump to just buy a law school, just for the free legal advice. The Investigations are starting pile up, including Flush gate. It took the National Archives eight months, to obtain the return of those 15 boxes of documents, and there’s more still missing.

It is becoming clearer and clearer, that this was President Billy the Kid. President Eric Cartman, “You’re not the boss of me! I’ll do what I want! I’ll piss out the window and write on the walls in crayon.” But the real problem associated with flushing documents, isn’t plumbing related at all. It’s that the innocent never flush. Only the guilty flush. And only because they know that they are guilty. Twump doesn’t care how it looks anymore. He just takes hits from the dive bombers and just ducks his head, barely even trying that much anymore. The counter puncher is about punched out.

Twump called Maggie Haberman’s new book about him “Lies.” Oh, come now, where is the old true Twump? Where is the outrage? Why, in the old days, he would have done twenty minutes on the media. Raging, soaring, pontificating! Today, we get “lies” and the old man shuffles back inside the house. Because Twump realizes this is a one-way mission. They can’t do much more to Twump than they are doing right now, they just threaten more and more and more of it.

Sure, like an episode of Cops, I’d love to see him frog marched out of Mira Lago, in a wife beater tee shirt and boxer shorts. Maybe a Surfer cross dangling from around his neck. A fading punisher tattoo on his arm with Malaria Twump hanging in the doorway in a tube top. Screaming out obscenities in a foreign tongue, that are somehow understandable in any language. But it ain’t gonna happen.

People of that wealth, of that prestige go to hospitals. “Leave him alone! He’s a very sick old man! He might be dying; it could be the bone spurs again.” Hospitals offering, beautiful three-bedroom suites, 24 hrs. Room service on call, extensive gardens and a 24 hr. McDonalds located strategically, just down the street. Marcus Aurelius said, “The days of your life are short. The days of your powers are shorter still.”

The real victims here are the Republicans. Cheering and committing felonies for the goat, and now he’s starting to turn turtle on them. All the Republican’s worshipping at the feet of the orange one. Who is now exposing himself to the crowd as the most criminal President of all time. And with a criminal record that will probably never be surpassed in the annals of Washington politics.

It leaves them out in the cold and vulnerable, lest the wave continue to build, and the investigations expand. They must now defend someone who has already admitted his guilt, or completely reverse themselves. “Why yes, I do support the President illegally flushing incriminating documents down the toilet. Yes, I support corruption at all levels of government.” So, it’s really not that much further to go to reach, “Come on Volcano! Come on, a blizzard, a hurricane a Tsunami, anything. Give us something to work with here!

But remember, the Twumplets have suspicious minds. “ Luther, I wonder if them documents could have been about them space aliens taking my cows? Shit, he knew all along Luther! That’s why Twump never answered any of my letters! He was in on it Luther! Twump Steaks, my ass!”

“Our life is what our thoughts make it.”
― Marcus Aurelius,