There was nothing worth your time to see in Dallas last night.
Nothing at all.
It was all the usual lies.
Told to all the usual, goggle-eyed homunculi.
In a half-empty barn.
By a rapidly decomposing degenerate monster.
Nothing to see here.
The public was offered a $5,000-per-adult, Trump-branded bribe if Republicans keep the congress. Wildly illegal and as nonexistent as your Trump DOGE check and your Trump tariff rebate.
Great new health care system will be up and running in a matter of weeks,
The last two years have, of course, been the greatest two years in the history of creation.
Oh, and we're all still baby-killing Commies.
Also Fetterman showed up because there were cameras to prance in front of and it would piss off Democrats, and what else has he got.
Nothing to see here.
The same, old, tired lies about “We won the presidency three times.”
And the United States now has “the lowest drug prices in the world.”
And Iowa gasoline was “$1.85” before he launched the Iran war.
And “Food prices and almost every other item are rapidly going down.”
And “Over $20 trillion” has been invested in the United States during his second term.
And, the topper, “Every single promise I made you as a candidate, I've delivered on. I've delivered on everything.”
Nothing to see here but the loudmouth at the end of the bar, getting louder and more grandiose as the clock counts down to closing time. And while a few waterheads and barflies who he's been promising free drinks all night are still hanging in there, listening attentively, the rest of the bar has mostly cleared out.
If Mussolini had given a long, rambling speech in February of 1945 about his amazing successes, awesome, single-handed victories and Italy's bright future, the tone of it would have sounded a lot like this.
You might remember that eventually, Mussolini tried to flee disguised as a German soldier.
Didn't work out.
So we probably all should be keeping a weather eye out for an orange slob, dressed in a "Free Mumia" tee-shirt and blond wig, trying to sneak away in a catering truck with a sack full of cash and his FIFA "peace prize".
Other than that, nothing to see here.
Thanks Driftglass! Your insight is a perfect summary of the gathering of fools.
ReplyDeleteYou might remember that eventually, Mussolini tried to flee disguised as a German soldier.
ReplyDeleteDidn't work out.
Although there are no more full-fledged Esso stations here in Unistat, Wikipedia tells me that ExxonMobil successfully reclaimed the Esso brand in 2016, and that the "name did return to minor station signage at both Exxon and Mobil stations, which also had the effect of ExxonMobil de facto claiming the Standard trademark in Colorado, Kentucky, Montana, North Dakota, Oklahoma and Wyoming". So we know what state(s) to hope we find these greedheads in when we're ready to give them what they've earned.
Also, from the standpoint of songs called "Closing Time", Leonard leaves Semisonic eating his dust.
ReplyDeleteYour Mumia reference reminded me of this:
ReplyDeleteYOUR MUMIA SWEATSHIRT WON’T GET YOU INTO HEAVEN ANYMORE
We’ve been cursed with Trump because too many people either sat out the election because they thought the choice they were presented with was unworthy of them, felt cheated that Bernie wasn't the nominee, were turned off by Hillary (admittedly, "It's my turn now" was hardly a winning message), or wanted to make a statement with a third-party vote (Jill Stein's vote totals in the states that gave the Electoral College to Trump were larger than Trump's plurality. To those who are tempted to do the same this year, I can only offer what a blogger named TBogg penned to Naderites back in 2008:
"Every year in Happy Gumdrop Fairy-Tale Land all of the sprites and elves and woodland creatures gather together to pick the Rainbow Sunshine Queen. Everyone is there: the Lollipop Guild, the Star-Twinkle Toddlers, the Sparkly Unicorns, the Cookie Baking Apple-cheeked Grandmothers, the Fluffy Bunny Bund, the Snowflake Princesses, the Baby Duckies All-In-A-Row, and the Rumbly-Tumbly Pupperoos.
"They have a big picnic with cupcakes and gumdrops and pudding pops, stopping only to cast their votes by throwing Magic Wishing Rocks into the Well of Laughter, Comity, and Good Intentions. Afterward they spend the rest of the night dancing and singing and waving glow sticks until dawn when they tumble sleepy-eyed into beds made of the purest and whitest goose down where they dream of angels and clouds of spun sugar.
"You don’t live there.
"Grow the fuck up."