Here’s the beginning of it all several weeks ago I was on the cusp of a scheduling crunch when I experienced an epic, no holds barred, evacuate the body in all directions, illness. No worries. I lived. In fact it was short, probably because an illness that nasty must necessarily be short lest it kill off it’s host instead fulfilling its cosmic duty to optimize misery.
Under such circumstances a sane man will call in sick, crawl into bed, and stay there a week. I didn’t. Literally hours later I verified most of the storm had passed and bravely (or stupidly) climbed into my truck to pursue the almighty dollar. Reflecting on the events leading up to it I figured it was even odds the trip would be a failure and I’d wind up barfing in a gutter somewhere. Of course I’d never let a fear like that stop me from completing a job.
I rolled along in my truck; a hollow shell with the constitution of a tiny little bird. No sudden moves. No scary road food. No nothing… just one man hermetically sealed and perched on eggshells in his roving security blanket; desperately hoping breakfast wouldn’t explode all over the dash. I did this for three days. Three full days of thinking… and listening to the press hyperventilate.
The radio dutifully injected stupid into my cab. America’s Pravda (NPR) took the lead but the gibbering hordes of AM were nipping at its heels. Being as weak as a mouse and driving from nowhere to nowhere I could only listen. I listened as if observing a strange alien culture from a great distance. This helps one grok the inanity of it all.
Think back. Can you remember what was on the mind of the newsies and spinmiesters back then? Rewind a month or more of this fun filled election roller coaster. What was the panic du jour?
“Trump is winning big time and we Republicans need to stop that shit toot sweet. Perhaps we can scheme up a brokered convention whereby we take the likely holder of a plurality and kick him in his big brass balls. We’ll follow that with an ugly screaming shitfest where we draft a milquetoast loser that Hillary will grind to make her bread. We’ll even ignore competitor number two, Cruze. Why? Because we’re a foot that likes shooting itself. Nothing impresses Americans like fucking the first and second place winners in a year long marathon. They simply love it when we excrete a gutless uninspiring apparatchik on America’s plate. We sure love being the Stupid party.”
While the Stupid party was aghast at the horror of a popular candidate who can pack stadiums what was the Evil party thinking?
“Sanders has not gotten the memo that we anointed Hillary years ago. Plus, quite frankly that bitch terrifies us! What’s wrong with that dipshit? Stand up to Hillary and bad things happen. Also Sanders is building tremendous support and as Democrats we need to stop that shit toot sweet. Perhaps we can pretend that Hillary’s secret illegal server is no big deal and line up a herd of purchased superdelegate shitheads that’ll do what our idiot party voters won’t do. Doesn’t everyone realise that she must win or she’ll release the flying monkeys? We sure love being the Evil party.”
That was several weeks ago. Since then I’ve been busy. Stay tuned.
