The Journal
Serving the Metropolitan Area
Since 1872
January 11th
DEFECTIVE AMERICANS!
By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential
candidate
Syndicated
by Acme Features
Expanding and expounding
on our last syndicated salvo: how and why did Americans come to largely accept
the smart people’s judgments as that they are
sheeple… contemptibles… dittoheads?
Bipartisan deplorables, assailed and
disrespected bipartisanly at home, at work, on the
street or at the polls. Warn't long ago, historically speaking, that we tossed out
the Brits... world's alpha empire at the time... cleared the frontier,
slaughtered them woo-woo Indians, fought a bloody Civil War, endured the Jazz
Age and Great Depression, then bounced back to more or less world domination by
the close of World War Deuce. Oh, them Russians had some bombs, and did bushwack us on the Sputnik, but turned out just a suit of
empty armor... see?... nobody home inside once Neal Armstrong took that giant
step and the Gipper snapped his fingers at Berlin’s
beautiful Wall. (Some probably wish we
had the Brits over us again but… no luck… we had the Brutes, now we
got the Beat and, maybe next go round, the Bushed?)
We ruled the roost,
we did, from '45 on until... well that's a point at issue. Some say we started
falling apart November 22nd, back in '63, others point to Vietnam, the
Watergate, Reagan’s tax reforms, the XFL... after that, things get somewhat partisanly nebulous as to fixing blame.
I, personally, point
to the day this ol' cowpoke Congressman Morton Scow told me 'bout as drifted up
into the Sierras from Santa Cruz with his horse, Blackfoot, and dog, Pudge,
round the turn of millennium; moseyed into Altaville among
all them dot-Commies priced out of Santa Clara to set up shop as...
A panhandler!
God's truth! Hide
your face, John Wayne, kick your hats out'n the ring
Ron Reagan, Clint Eastwood, even Don Knotts. Ringo plants his butt upon the
sidewalk with a tin cup, telling anybody as bothered to ask: "World owes
me!"
Guy coulda, woulda cleaned up, selling
rides to kids, Morty says. "Ten dollars a spin atop ol' Blackfoot, five
more per Polaroid (that being just a smidgen before the selfiephones
erupted everywhere). Far as I know, it wasn't the insurance people who stopped
him. He just wanted to go on the bum." Shed a tear for a lonesome cowpoke.
Soul of America!
I think something in
a lot of 'Murkans has always wanted to be
kicked round and degraded, and it’s been out there for a long, long time. Back
in the Old World, they've a sort of name for it... imitation principle, I
think, or else identification... (some principal as
always begins, like a Trump speech, with "I"!)... where
people most proud of being abused and kicked round like curs are those proximate
the biggest, stinkiest toe-cheeses. Maids and
butlers, cubical cowboys and coachmen, middle management of big corporations,
little Remains of the Day people as delude themselves into thinking the glory
of their betters radiates across them, that burning plague masks and
rooting on the overdogs sustains the self-delusion
that they're the purple people to the purple born, if by association. "Conservatives,"
opined Christopher Lord of the Institute of International Relations, have
always depended upon "a working-class vote, based on tradition."
At least the real magaMEN stormed and squatted the Capitol for a few hours back
them – until they realized that their God had gone home to watch television and
that they’d forgot their shootin’ irons, so they took
a few selfies, slunk back to the towns and their trailers and waited for the
Liberal Police to root them out – months, years
later.
Those tea-sippers on
the orthodox right and liberal white whiners joined together in Obama’s black Christmas
back in 2011, a corrupt deal as greased the path for Mister Trump’s first term
by restoring the Bush tax cut for millionaires and billionaires while showering
the unemployed with little golden parachutes of another year’s unemployment
benefits for sitting on their butts with the former only being undone at the
cost of raising the payroll taxes and, a few weeks later, gutting Medicare.
Yo!…
Actually, that part
steams me even more than those handouts to the rich… like our President raiding
the oil reserve intended for refinery-destroying hurricanes or Taliban
takeovers in Kuwait or Jihad Prince in Saudi Arabia and then the gigglin’ oilies playing
kissy-face with Iran and raising prices…
these have been going on since 1947, with only a few exceptions, and, since
1980, unrelentingly so (except for the strange, brief Saudi/Russia spat). While the concept of “moral hazard” is largely
used by the termites as resent any gumment benefits (like
food stamps or children’s healthcare) accruing to sub-millionaires, it is,
nonetheless, real. We are quickly devolving
into a society… accelerated by disease and Wall Street… where the (formerly)
working-class joins the rural and urban underclasses in a uselessness;
resentful and entropic IPeesters that will endure for
generations while the thinking and the talking classes pulling down $94K yearly
cash their stimulus and child credit subsidy checks,
And, make no mistake,
these left-behinds… the white ones, at least… will vote for Trump or somebody
like him in 2024. Don
Junior or Kushner (that’ll be a
kosher bacchanalia for the ages, a Goldwater sequel… but without conscience!)…
Erik? Or a Biden to Djonald’s
Barack… BilBarr the Barbarian, Stephen Miller? Judge Kavanaugh? (After all, some of those Eurodecadents
as allow dozens of minor parties to gum up the electoral beheadings once
started Parties of Beer!) Too bad about
Mike Pence, but maybe Ted Cruz? The
question is – after MAGA splits off from Never Trump, who gets custody of the
Republican name and legacy and who has to start over as a third party?
Back in the Depression,
President Roosevelt (who, like his cousin Teddy, is now portrayed as a Commonist vole by the talk radio history revisioning
machine as well as a vicious racist by BLM… or, rather, BCM or JLM) drew up a
program to keep the unemployed alive against the day as they might become
useful again (December 7, 1941, as it turned out) and promote those works for
the general welfare, which was called the W.P.A. Not Welfare Progress Administration, however, but
the Works Progress Administration – emphasis on works - as built
highways, bridges, railroads, all those things as are now deteriorating for
lack of bodies for the maintenance as are sittin’ on
the couch of a three in the afternoon, drinking beer and watching former Judge
Ashcroft expostulate on the Devil’s bargain with Democrats and their calico cats.
I think you can guess
what I would’ve done with that deal! Used to think Americans were smarter... after all,
we were settled by people who didn't cotton to all that bulldada
over there, so they left and became us. But, lately… and as conservatism
decayed from Hamilton and Madison to Barry Goldwater to Reagan, to the Bush
family, finally to the snake-handlers as sip present-day G.O.P. Kool-aid… I find this rugged individualism decaying into
kick-me-sir-I-can-take-it attitude's crawled over the
Atlantic like rats on a plague ship.
I am crawling to the
conclusion that the mighty pioneers were’t brave, self-reliant
or questioners of illicit authority – they were just the people who couldn’t
stop saying “No!”
Like two year olds. “No!...”
“Waaahhh!”
Some head-doctors
call this plate-of-pea-throwing attitude "Drift"... for reasons that
bad self-esteem tends to drift round, scooping up other bad ideas from the
minds that hate. Police hold "drift theory" cause for crime and prostitution,
in that abused children who get told they're no good drift into the juvenile
delinquency, "accepting labels on themselves as they go," says one
psychologist, "then acting out roles suggested by the labels. They become
who their labels have told them they are."
We pile our own angst
over kids. School dress-code warriors outlaw differingly-colored
shoestrings, Stars of David and crescents (though not crosses, as yet), dollar
signs, pitchforks, the numbers 5 and 6 (but not 13), Playboy Bunny logos and
single gloves (presumably gestures of solidarity with martyred pedophile
Michael Jackson). And, even though the
Feds under a succession of AyGees from Sessions to BilBarr to Garland trumped twenty-two states as have voted to legalize
(and tax) marijuana (thus shutting the cellar door on the ur-conservative
principle of states’ rights) God's Supremes finally upheld Indiana's "Zonker Law" as criminalizes "advocacy" of
drug use in the media, as well as Oregon. "Zonker
(a burned-out hippie in the formerly liberal comic strip Doonesbury) is a real
person in our society," alleged Brian Lungren, brother and campaign
manager of a failed candidate for Governor out there in California back in that
other century there. "He is not fictitious. And we should put Zonker behind bars where he belongs." And Snuffy Smith,
too, and toss that goldarn, goldbrickin’ Beetle fuckin’ Bailey into the brig!
We have a recessive (if
statistically deep minority) underparty of cruel tools,
fools and trolls, elbowing swine of lesser swinishness away from the trough,
posited against a waffling, wobbline, submissive Uberparty obsessed with outvictimizing
each other, meaning that the majority of unaffiliated, disaffected and
disgusted Don Joneses grow too alienated, even, to crawl to the polls now that
the wicked witch reposes in his padded cell at Mar-a-Lago. Don’t help that, like with the plague in 2020,
certain states as get to run their own elections without Federal oversight
claimed that so many poll workers called in sick or afraid, they had to open
just one polling booth per country, as in Lexington and Louisville in Mitchyland or Pittsburgh and Philadelphia, prompting the
poor and the black to wait in line for hours past closing or just go home in
disgust.
We surrender ancient
liberties, fearing that ultimate, irremediable personal entropy... death...
vainly attempting to fend it off by embracing, however inconsistently, the
Ancient Mariner's old opium-buddy: life-in-death. Our Zero Tolerance society still allows the
party people to participate in unmasked revels in Vegas or Disneytown
or the Lake of the Ozarks, but locks up kids longer than Casey Anderson for possession
of Motrin and plastic scissors and Federal agents storm into those statewide-legalized
medicinal dope parlors in Boulder and Seattle, beating the crap out of 85 year
old cancer patients. The zero point two
drunk driving laws enacted in six states now so’s to be more Mormoner-than-thou against Utah scoop up thousands of
dollars in traffic fines from thousands of ladies who enjoyed a small glass of
wine at the Olive Garden, and those nighttime entertainment establishments as
rode out CV-19 are now closing, left and right (President Trump and his family
said to be forming a consortium to buy them up for pennies on the dollar and
reopen as casinos after he ups his injections of fetal spinal fluid, finishes
his second term and returns to the private sector in 2029). Our media… such as ain’t
amongst the paranoia-inducing cop and superhero shows... are chock-a-bloc with
celebrity chefs as taunt us with bizarre, high-calorie treats, followed by
tricky doctors who admonish that one spoonful of said delicacies will being
instant death or Bloombergian jail terms… with
ambulance-chasing lawyers promising to sue both chefs and doctors, phony courtrooms adjudicating disputes between
dirtbags… with Americans desperate to humiliate themselves and their ilk for a
handful of money, or just to be on TV. "I think it's despicable that so many Americans
feel compelled to pour out their flaws," remarked Mimi Silber of the
Delancey Street rehab, one of the few as worked, more often as not. "People
seem almost obliged to tell others how bad they are."
Jack Kerouac started out as
a New Deal liberal, then became King of the Beatniks, finally
a right-wing dittohead succoring William F. Buckley
(the Limbaugh or Tucker Carlson of his day). Now the Democrats as stand on nothing but their
history are calling themselves the Beats.
Some of his old essays were reprinted in
a short book called “The Haunted Life”, which I highly recommend - especially
the parts where he tees off on cronies like Alan Ginsburg (whom the tinfoil-heads
allege to be the masterbeard behind George Soros) and
William S. Burroughs for being decadent liberals… drug-addled pedophile
masochists who’d rather strike imposing poses than accomplish anything of
political substance. He wrote this in
1948 and was, of course, ahead of his time.
I do admit today’s gumment, with its Federal re-prohibitioning
prohibitions in the pipeline, has created a few jobs for urine-sniffers and titty-fondling
transit Checkpoint Charlies (at least when they’re not being furloughed over
some dispute or other), but either we flush this national undinism
down the crapper and content ourselves with an imperfect society (whereby the actions
of miscreants may be sanctioned, but not their aspects, thoughts or precious
bodily fluids) or bring back HHSec. Bloomberg’s total
prohibition against any substance perceived suspect to the eye of
God... or the W.H.O/A.M.A monolights. Tobacco first, of course, then the rest...
beer and sugar, red meat, extreme sports and aspirin. And, of course, coffee,
tea and the chocolate (as is going extinct anyway), after we first shut down
any restaurant or vending machine selling their swill in cups larger then six
ounces (and that only to prevent the tiredness among drivers as might cause accidents).
Think full Bloomberg!
Iran and Iraq and Syria and
Egypt and (after their palace coup, the Saudis) and them other places we went to
war in to save them from themselves turned out to want aggressively puritanical Islamic Republics and high oil prices, and partisans of the
losing factions as emigrated to Belgium and such places now demand the nationwide
invocation of Sharia Law (tho’ I do rather like the
part about chopping off the hands of identity thieves). Libya went and burned up our ambassadors, and all
that we could come up with was that it was some plot by Al-Qaeda wannabees and
not the legitimate outrage of what, worldwide, amounts to about a billion Mohammedans
as want nothing more out of life than the chance to kill Christians and Jews
and other faithful and non-faithful people according to Deuteronomy Chapter
Twenty (as is held holy by all Big Three religions) and, once that is done,
kill all them other Muslims (Shite or Sunni) that hold
to a disagreement over something as happened in 600 or, maybe, 800 AD. Now I ain’t one down
with the golden spectacles, but if Americans really want so… let’s declare ourselves
a Mormonic Republic (and take it for granted that
those decadent Europeans leave out the second “m”)… and let all those
mouth-breathers as plan on flocking to New Hampshire to present their cases deal
with that. (Or maybe not, since the Wokers among donkeys want to front-load their primaries
with “communities of color” and it would seem that the odds-on alternative to
ol’ Jeb, next trip around, just might be ol’ Mitt!)
As of this authorizing,
Kentucky has just joined thirty-seven other state legislatures (a few just mean
bastards, most worried the Feds will stop the flow of red gravy) in the
symbolic re-de-legalization of medicinal
weed… provoking an immediate plague of Federal raids on storefronts, homes and old
folks homes – herding sinners into jails and confiscating cars and houses, even
a few churches (which revenues, of course were the unspoken objective of the
legislation). Well, this Catfish has one
reactionary remedy for substance-related crime. Back a ways even further than
the Sunni-Shiite schism or first Congress of Niceaea,
back around six or seven hundred BC, this tyrant, Pittacus... now, to the early
Greeks, tyranny was just a word meaning any politician running any gumment... anyway, Pittacus was Tyrant of Lesbos and enemy
to this lady Sappho, who gave the whole island its reputation it has (she being
one of those lesbian Lesbians while Pittacus was just a Lesbian, and
tyrant thereof, though not necessarily tyrannical). Aristotle and Plato mention
Pittacus, not for his difficulties with lesbian Lesbians, but for his policy on
substance abuse, which went like this...
Anybody could put
anything into any bodily orifice, Health Nazis be damned. (Anything, in those
days, meant mostly wine, also the occasional lotus, mandrake or something else
as cannot be mentioned in a family publication.) But if a man
committed a crime under the influence, his condition was not... as here,
without involvement of automobiles... considered mitigating. It
was an aggravating circumstance! Harsher, not easier, sentences
for tipsy rapists, robbers and murderers... and no more whining. No more PSA (public snitch appeals) to ‘Murkans to peek through their own and others’ windows and
report "anomalies... things that are different"… to Madam Pirro’s fuzz.
In the eighteenth
century, authentic libertines like King George, Ben Franklin and the Earl of
Sandwich raised unholy hellfire "not like these whimpering mashers who
keep fouling our headlines today," observed degeneracy's late connoisseur,
Hunter S. Thompson who, at least, had the foresight to shoot himself as an
alternative to soldiering on as a sick, old body in the bipolar American body
politic. Against them stood genuine economic and moral conservatives like Adam
Smith, men who applied both soft or "amiable" and hard or "awful"
virtues first to themselves... "self-denial, dignity, honor," and a
capacity "to feel much for others and little for ourselves."
Today, we enjoy the
worst of both virtue and vice... a Security State obsessed with smiting
sin as opposed to deterring, detecting and apprehending criminality, allowing
for the sublimation of innate animal desires into… consumerism! Six year old
girls dressing like whores, crunk music, Souljacker… rights and entitlements! How far we've drifted, like that lonesome
cowpoke of Altaville, and over such a short time,
too!
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