By David Glenn Cox
I would like to say a few words in praise of Amy Acton. Too often we buy into the mongrel media’s cynical perspective. We focus too much on the darkness of a Vivek Ramaswampy or the deviant comedy duo of Trumpo the insane, and Shady the country clown. While forgetting to praise Amy Acton. The child abuse survivor risen to prominence. She is a credit to herself, and her adoptive parents deserve much praise for rescuing and resuscitating her young life. Turning a disaster into a dream come true.
It is difficult for an abused child to have ambitions. Ambition goes out the window while being abused, shrieked at or blamed for everything under the sun, no matter what. Or being starved or beaten or sexually abused. You know all the precursors of the alcoholic, drug-addled or mentally ill abuser. The vodka bottle on the counter or the sound of the ice hitting the glass. That certain music the abuser always likes to play when they’re in that certain mood. The child forced into an adult world without any understanding of the adult rules. They don’t dream of going to college or law school or medical school. They dream only of escaping from their abuser and from their prison cell without walls.
It’s hard to focus on your homework when you live in fear and don’t ever know what is coming next. Success is just for rich kids in John Hughes movies. Maybe it’ll be alright tonight, or maybe not. Maybe they have committed the catastrophic mortal felony of leaving crumbs on the counter or forgetting to put a knife in the dishwasher. You’re no good! You’re worthless, you’re just like your worthless father or your mother. College? You’re an idiot! Our jails and prisons are filled to the rafters with abused children, all grown up. It’s the reason why pedophiles are so terrified of prison. Because that’s where the victims of abuse get their chance to even up the score.
Dr. Acton is literally and figuratively the flower growing up through the crack in the sidewalk. I thought to myself, seeing her wrinkled, bitter birth mother it must have made her heart jump and her blood run cold. A ghost from a dark time returned, still reaching and still trying to pull her back into that dark place again. I imagine it was a face that Dr. Acton had hoped she would never have to see ever again.
We return you now to our regularly scheduled political screed, already in progress! Here comes Donny Claus. Here comes Donny Claus right down Donny Claus Lane!” Ho, ho, ho! Not you, Malaria. I have toys and goodies for all the good little struggling Republican candidates. Ho, ho, ho, Here’s a Canadian tariff rollback for you little Suzie Collins in Maine. Discount rock salt for everybody! Merry Election Day! And for the good little struggling Republican candidates in Iowa, Kansas and Nebraska! Diesel fuel rebates! What? You say the pumps have run dry in Nebraska? I don’t know anything about that! I only know about the good things. That must be the evil Krampus Joe Biden’s fault.
Ho, ho, ho, Merry Election Day! I’ve got air force sleigh one (a gift from the Qataris) loaded down with freebies for all the good little struggling Republicans candidates. Say! Do you need cash? Give it to them, Elon! Don’t be cheap about it, either. You can’t spend it in prison, you know. So you might as well spend it now! Ho, ho, ho! I’ve got to fly away now. I have lots of goodies to pass out all over the country! Mississippi? What the fuck am I doing in Mississippi? Alaska? Oh shit, no! You’ve got to be kidding me! Well, at least it’s only money and I don’t actually have to go there! Not like these shitbox hellholes I’ve been forced to endure for my rallies. On Marco, on Todd, on Scotty, on Natalie, on Howie and on Katie. Katie? What? Wait, a minute. I thought I fired her.
“Petey the red-nosed Defense secretary, Had a very shiny nose and if you ever saw it. You’d would even hide his car keys! All of the other secretaries used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Petey join in any secretary games. Then one foggy Election eve Petey came to say. Who the hell left that damn Eisenhower globe out? I damn near broke my neck tripping over it! Petey, with your nose so red you’re a blight on our careers. All of the other secretaries then they shouted out with glee, Petey the red-nosed secretary, get the hell away from me!
Whoops! Wrong holiday, I guess. It should be that Halloween movie. The real scary one where the outraged blue electorate goes nuts and starts murdering the unsuspecting Republicans, one by one. In gruesome ways and places never dreamed of just a few weeks before. Don’t open that door, Vivek! Oh, no! Shit! It’s too late! He was found dead with a gaping political hole in his foot from the barrel of a failed large-caliber political advertisement. Oh, God no! It’s the Texas Chainsaw Massacre! Run, Ken, run! Roll Greg, roll! He’s way ahead of you! Look out!
“The story you are about to read isn’t true. The names were changed to protect the imaginary. My name is Sergeant Don Trumpy and my partner’s name is Joe Shady. We were working the burglary watch out of the Washington Bureau. Entire states were suddenly disappearing from Republican safes. Our job was to find out why. I approached a likely suspect. “You ain’t got nothin on me, Copper. I’m not responsible for the high fuel prices or the war in Iran. Don’t you try to pin this rap on me, Copper!”
It was later on in the day while using the men’s room and admiring Shady’s tight curvaceous ass. When we got our first big break in the case! A large men’s room mirror had a break in it. Look in that mirror, Shady,” I said. “There they are. It’s them! They’re the ones responsible! Who should we blame for it! Sometimes, this job just makes me sick, Shady. Another Illain Omar crime goes unpunished.
Quick! We need to inspect the voter rolls for illegal voters, Batman! Ansel Aubrey Addams sounds Hispanic to me, Robin. Take him off the voter list! Andy Anderson, it’s a diabolical plot, Robin. They’re all Hispanic if they live in California or in a blue state.” Holy Mudhead, crooked-caped crusader! What are we going to do now? “I’ll tell you, Robin. We’ll call our good friends on the Supreme Court and remove everybody, every single voter, from every single voter list in every state in the country! Everybody! Every last one of them.” Will that work, Batman? It’s our only hope, it’s too late to gather up a bunch of dipshits, goons and brain-dead morons and idiot yokels to storm the Capitol again.
“All I know is just what I read in the papers, and that’s an alibi for my ignorance.”
― Will Rogers
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