May 19, 2016

Agent Mineva. Agent Thomas. Call your office!

Debbie, Debbie, she of the smooth tresses and dulcet toned harangues, is now the head of the Democratic Party. She was also the mean little Nazi wannabe who sent you to my house because of something I wrote. It is important to note that she was a Florida state Senator and fell comfortably inside the tent of criticism that the New York Times/Sullivan case that the Supreme Court decided. Talk about stretching the envelope! For a chick who says she has 2 degrees in Political Science she sure is ignorant about political speech. Apparently the words “Congress shall make no law…” don’t mean much to modern American Liberals. OOPS I forgot to mention that you were agents of the FDLE, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, and carried badges, guns, and the full majesty of the law when you came knocking on my door because of something I wrote.

Looking back, I can say that I enjoyed the visit. My wife didn’t but you know how the ladies are. She knew that if I had kept my pen sheathed men with badges and guns would not have come to our house because of something I wrote.

The good cop/bad cop routine, a technique well known to anyone, particularly community organizers and agitators who were born and raised in Bayonne, N.J., was well received. The Manichean nature of the alternating carrot and stick casual interrogation was a thing of joy to participate in.

As an aside, I sent copies of every letter I ever sent to her to the only media mogul I knew in Florida. He ran a big daily paper. I told him that if he found but one threatening word I would stop writing to or about her. He did not. That is why I am able to pursue my avocation of pelting her with flaming bags of cat scat, all of which she greatly deserves. Usually my gentle rebukes were caused when she revealed the one quality common to all modern American Liberals. 

You need but scratch the surface to find that they are closeted Nazis.

I suppose if you can get financing for a play about an Argentinean hooker or 1500 people drowning you might be able to bring this plot to Broadway.

A 74 year old wing nut, “moon bat”, a guy who believes in the tooth fairy, a guy who never got a pay check until he was 40 years old, a guy who went to Moscow on his honeymoon, is running for President. His opponent is Hillary Clinton. Her candidacy has been compared, rather unfavorably I quickly add, to that of Senator Vance Hartke and Governor Robert Meyner. She cackles like a Rhode Island Red trying to avoid the guy with the hatchet. If she’s not doing that she is barking like a junk yard dog. [Where in the name of the furbish lousewort is PETA when you really need them?] Plus, if her ass gets any fatter she’ll be the first passenger flying freight on Air Force One. Shades of Oliver Hardy, Alfred Hitchcock, and in a bow to Affirmative Action, Aunt Jemima. Either that or she’ll have to be Gorilla Glued to her Twin Broomstick Witch Mobile when she goes to Walmart. I’ll bet you didn’t know that she worked for them.

Bernie is a Socialist. We are not certain whether his model is the stern Bulgarian/East German type, the more humanistic Cuban/Venezuelan edition, or the uber Progressive Zimbabwean prototype.

History tells us that there are three problems common to all of them.

Breakfast

Lunch

Dinner

Here is another inconvenient truth about Socialism.

It doesn’t work.

It never has worked.

It never will work.

There are some exceptions. The followers of Mother Teresa and the members of Seal Team 6 seem to have learned to alter human nature and work for a greater good. 

It breaks down, repeatedly and predictably, every time it has been tried. “The triumph of hope over experience” is the non-carbon foot printing, polar bear undrowning fuel on which it feeds.

“Speed the Plow”, “Force the Spring”, “Don’t Stop Thinking About Tomorrow”, “It’s For The Children, “Imagine”, and a new one, “You’ve Got a Friend”, brought to us by Jay Forbes Kerry, the Secretary of State are the bullshit mantras that cause Bernie Believers to go over the top and charge, Somme-like, straight into 20 miles of machine guns disguised as History.

His dopey bastard Bolshie believers know that this time it will be different, that this time it will work. And the saps fall for it every time

I recall, like finger nails on the blackboard, the current chief poltroon telling an audience of addled asses, a collection of ohmadahns so vast that Guinness should have been notified that “We are the people we have been waiting for”. He said that just before he told them that he would “calm the sea and cool the earth’. 

Icarus had nothing on this world class faker. In fact, the Gods wet their togas as if on command.

That’s why Debbie Debbie needs you.

Her job is to get Hillary into the White House as President. She already has the interns lined up to give her a bit of Oval Office gobble.

She has to get Bernie Sanders to go to an environmentally sensitive Kibbutz/Ashram/Commune – New Harmony comes to mind – and raise unicorns. Also, his vital work on 4 crops a year rainbow stew/balloon juice clinging vines can continue. He could help Ben & Jerry work on their no fat tofu, kale, and diatomaceous earth sorbet. 

In her heart she would like you to take him to the 13^th floor of the world HQ of Solyndra and give him his complimentary flying lesson. OK OK I’ll take that back. Give him a basic tune up followed by a wood shampoo. “basic tune up”? “wood shampoo”? Send a SASE.

  Do something, anything.

Just get this cantankerous SOB out of the race. We owe it to Hillary. Tell him we’ll ban Adam Smith. Tell him that Milton Friedman and William F. Buckley, Jr go down the memory hole. Tell him that Keynes gets his face on a stamp. Tell him we’ll dig up Joe McCarthy so he can kill him. Tell him he’ll be in charge of the next war on poverty. Tell him that we won’t keep score in the next Super Bowl. Tell him we’ll blow up the New York Stock Exchange. Tell him we’ll outlaw urinals. Forget about photo ID voting laws. We’ll have manatee suffrage. We’ll apologize to the Carthaginians for excessive force. We’ll give Arizona to the Apaches and South Dakota to the Sioux. The Fugawis and the Mohicans get Las Vegas.  Tell him we’ll have universal Midnight Basketball.

Just make sure he doesn’t promise free beer.

If he does we’ll all be out of work.

Meanwhile, I want you to become familiar with the word “defenestration”.

Kevin Smith

WARRIORBARDIT@BELLSOUTH.NET