By David Glenn Cox
Sure, it can get depressing sometimes living on a doomed little dirty planet on the poor side of the universe. But we have diamonds at our feet, and we need only to pick one up. Gifts from the gods that can alter your mood more than Jack Daniels and Eli Lilly put together. Are you sitting down? I won’t be responsible for broken crockery. No drinking or chewing allowed while reading.
Marge Tater Greene issued her regular unhinged statement about being picked on. Ready? It’s like we’re all “living in a Peach Tree dish.” You can’t make this stuff up! But sometimes we must stop and smell with our noses. Because the only things we can count on in life are death and Texans. It’s like we’re living under a telescope!
Could it be that Tater is really a super-secret counterintelligence agent? In the most ingenious and devilishly clever counterintelligence operation ever? After any major Republican gaff or blow up, super computers devise the most insanely stupid remark humanly possible for Tater to stumble over. “Activate agent L-7.” Then Tater complains about living in a peach tree dish. And you can almost forget that the Republicans are blood-soaked, blood thirsty bastards who’d sell their own mothers for a box lunch and a bottle of Yoo-hoo, from laughing so hard. Could it be? Probably not.
But it is just as farfetched to believe that a grown woman could live to that ripe old age and be that stupid organically, without chemical assistance. By this time, she’d have used a Buck knife looking for the electricity hiding in the wall outlet or tried to make toast and coffee in bed. “Look everybody; I can ride my motorcycle with my eyes closed!” The Darwin principle precludes Tator from accidently being that dumb. You’d have to start with a thousand dumb test subjects and hope that one of them survived to adulthood. It’s the thousand monkeys at a thousand typewriters gambit, and there’s not even a good short story in any of them.
It was Abe Lincoln who said, “Ford scored seven years ago, and our four fathers didn’t!” That’s why they put the Ten Commandments in the Declaration of Independence. That’s why the Bible was written in English silly! Free comedy in every room! Some planet huh? Few volcanoes and congenial climates available. Planet Catskills, the only thing we have to hear is ears itself! “Is this thing on?”
Sure, the idea the Republicans would stand firm in support of firearms amidst the bodies of yet another child massacre is depressing. The Party of Alcohol, tobacco, and firearms fights marijuana legalization because it hurts the sales of alcohol and pharmaceutical drugs. Which in turn, indirectly hurts gun sales. They’re just trying to help you, while helping their friends a little more. Environmental restrictions hurt the economy, so maybe a little more pollution in your air or water won’t hurt you none. The death penalty/prolife Party.
Admit it if you were alien from the other side of the tracks. (The Good side) You wouldn’t admit to coming around here, but you’d watch like it was Downton Abby. Curious creatures, hard to figure on what they’ll try and do next. Willing to sell their environment away for dollars. Watching the seconds tick away on the doomsday clock like children waiting expectantly to get out of school, while they advocate for coal! So sure, Jupiter for moons but for comedy? For comedy, this is it! More laughs per hector than Pluto with more than twice the irony of Mars.
And the horror of the moment exposed their naked grift and folly like a lightening flash of a murderess silhouette on the shade. They must eat the banquet at the sin eater’s table and devour all the fruits of their own wickedness. Clearly, the outhouse is full, and someone must dig it out. “Bring me Ted Cruz and a shovel.” And you say this town ain’t funny enough for you. You got in for free! God/Mel Brooks same guy?
In some other world you might be fighting mosquitos as big as squirrels and roaches as big as house cats. Mechanical Mormons relentlessly scouring the neighborhoods on their remorseless humorless ten speeds. Space Vikings! Fucking space Vikings and you think you have troubles now! We have comic relief at least, on this planet. “Okay Ted, start digging.”
Al Franken said that “He liked Ted Cruz more than most of the Republicans did, and he hated Ted Cruz.” Now look at humor of the situation, things have gotten so bad they’ve let Ted Cruz carry the ball. “Anybody, anybody, anybody else? Anyone at all? Buehler? Okay, give the ball to Gilligan. Here’s your butter knife, now go slay that dragon! The media is waiting. He was expendable and they hoped so. Let’s throw Ted in the volcano and see if our troubles go away, it couldn’t hurt to try.”
Now that’s top-drawer Hollywood entertainment for you spoiled by repetition. Ted Cruz as Gary Cooper in High Noon. “Here’s your six-gun sheriff, we’ll see to it you get a real nice funeral.” A sacrificial lamb sent to fight the Jabberwock and if he makes it back alive, I owe you a Coke. The latest pictures of Tehas Governor Greg (Bubba) Abbott show him making fish faces like Goldie Hawn in “Overboard” and unable to speak coherently. Spending his whole career defending guns and loosening gun restrictions in the name of politics, and now this.
The massacre blows away their cover exposing their guilt, and if they didn’t know any better. They wouldn’t be hiding right now. They wouldn’t send Ted Cruz out, if anyone else was willing to try. “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” Paging Mr. Cruz, paging Mr. Ted Cruz!
“How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.”
― Kurt Vonnegut