Serving the Metropolitan Area
IMMORTAL (if not necessarily) BELOVED!
By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential candidate
Syndicated by Acme Features
Pity, if you will, a gumment down to its last promise worth the promisin'...
Yes, all of us will live forever... if’n those Immortalists will have their way (and the Islamic, homegrown or Russian Nazi psychos or a new Chinese disease or hurricanes don’t get ‘em). People as been chasing that big "I" since this fusty ol’ perfessor, name of Someone Faust, cut his devil's deal over there in Germany, but forgot to include the youthfulness rider. So justifiable paranoia abounds. "We all live now as if we were working for some vast, national life-insurance company," was columnist Ellen Goodman's take on matters before one of those hired both Tonya Harding and Johnny (Football) Manziell – which was sort of funny, not sad like Broadway Joe Namath scrounging his way through retirement for the snake oil salesmen.
Now those of you as who are of an age remember: back in the 50's and early 60's, public schools that sold dismemberment insurance in the classrooms – hundred dollar payout for a lost hand, eye or ear, two for one arm or leg, five for any pair of same. Thousand for the works, payable to Mom and Pop – so no ice cream, comic books or (what was that masked meat?) Lone Ranger lunchboxes! Pickin' and choosin' was a vanished ritual of autumn, like burning leaves and sandlot football without helmets... I'm not sure whether the intent was to stimulate creative thinking in morbid little minds, or morbid thinking in creative ones, but this Chinese menu of mutilation conditioning did its job. Continental Insurance Company's kidnap, abduction and school shooting policies... "less than two dollars a day!" (but with most inner city areas redlined)... now sell like effin' hotcakes to milk-carton terrified li'l suburban rugrats as grew up unkidnapped and have rugrats of their own, whom they drive fifty feet to the schoolhouse rather than let ‘em walk and maybe get molested by the ice-cream man! Litigation compels manufacturers to childproof everything, from guns to pillboxes of arthritis pills, and those ice cream trucks prohibited from neighborhoods, due not only to the molestation, but to a fear of cone-carbs, or some free-range kids gettin' run over.
"There is no end to the list of things we should and shouldn't do," conservative columnist Guy Wright observed, "and no shortage of people who would like to have a law to make us do what they think is best."
And the TV lawyers are still trolling for more real or imaginary victims to join their class action suit against the Boy Scouts!
After a few lost decades among the drugs and AIDS, cheeseburgers and disco and now what partisans call the China Virus, the "lite" years are vengefully upon us. "People are desperately trying to establish a sense of control by self-denial," explains Manhattan headshrinker Mari Terzaghi. The "lite" beer and bread, corporately diluted with water and sawdust (at double the price!), inevitably breeds a need for lite educations (assuming that kids are even getting educations these days), where racist, patriarchal difficult abominations as math, science and English have been yanked out of public schools like bad molars in favor of "esteem-curricula" like basket-weaving and gender-reversal roleplay.
"Professors should have less freedom of expression than writers and artists," gloats Barbara Johnson of Yale, "because professors are supposed to be creating a better community." (emphasis added)
"Heroes despise Death," objected the politically incorrect Oswald Spengler, "saints despise Life." Another famous enemy of the victim culture, Mr. Nietzsche, once growled: "the Kingdom of Heaven of the poor in spirit has begun."
"The idea that our individual lives and the nation's life can and should be risk-free has grown to be an obsession..." remarked Henry Fairlie upon the aftermath of the Apollo and Challenger disasters long before the outbreak of plague, "...threatening to create an unbuoyant and uninventive society." So a serious ‘Publican candidate for Job One timidly ventures that we might get back to the moon by 2040.
complex, now, rewards inventively clumsy burglars, and
cuckoo criminals with too much or little self-esteem... as that elephant
What to do? Bag ‘em with a Klansy white hood, gag ‘em till they stop breathing and tag ‘em for the undertaker to enter into his Domesday Book.
What’s going on in taxpayer-funded universities? Seems as if there’s an infestation of MAGA false flaggers flying about – and blowing up Confederate statues and impolite comedians is only the beginning. Duck-lover Anne Sterling's pet peeve is the slander of mallards as serial rapists, because rape... by definition... can only stem from "human patriarchy". Vegetables? Don't dare slander spinach or disparage limp asparagus in Maryland... that State Senate put its anti-defamation law on the books after Oprah's Texas beef beef.
"The existence of victims is an indictment of the system and validates the liberal desire for 'change'," pronounced conservative Jeffrey Hart, echoing Eugene McCarthy's contemptuous dismissal of LBJ's Great Society... "to make ignorance, mental retardation, ill health, and even ugliness illegal." Thus, some of the most violent, trigger-happy left-wing protesters descending on Portland and Kenosha and Louisville night after night after night… not to mention the bored and tormented souls seeking absolution at the end of a police baton or tear gas canister… are just seeking some sense of aliveness of the sort that drove Mick Jagger and the boys to seek “their fair share of abuse” before they grew up and just pocketed their money.
"Unpredictability is often a sign of life," the paleo-con Hart added "and I enjoy it whenever I see it."
As is common among Squeamish, as feel an entitlement to run other people's lives in order to bring some purpose to their own, some of the most fanatical Immortalists are recovering Immoralists whose own bodies rebelled against youthful excess and the pause as did more than refresh. Many former libertines and student revolutionaries now haunt twelve-step groups and "closure" lobbies and exploit their self-victimization to meet and take selfies with celebrities and obtain attention that, otherwise, would never accrue to aging, burned-out scolds. "If you don't have an addiction to talk about you're almost out of luck!" says Dr. G. Alan Marlatt, of the Addictive Behavior Research Center in Seattle.
"If something tastes really good, it is probably bad. And if something tastes really dull, it is probably good," wrote Mike Royko, in Chicago. Then he died, proving his point. And the gumment banned vile-tasting but buzzless hemp lollipops on the thoughtcrime of inciting stoners to pretend they were sucking the Devil's shrubbery and thirty-two state legislatures criminalized electronic cigarettes for leading impressionable youth on to believe that pretending to smoke real tobacco like Bogart and Sinatra did is Kool. Other dead white Chicago guy, Nelson Algren (as wrote that dope movie with Ol’ Blue Eyes screaming in his closet), quoted some judge, as may or may not have existed, saying, more or less, about the sorry procession of bums, hypes and grifters as appeared before him every day: "they won't work, and you can't shoot them..." (this before lethal injection allowed high criminals to exeunt like unwanted puppies and kittens instead of evil human scum and, like the infamous Mark Cobb, extort a few years more of taxpayer-subsidized life once gumment supplies of one or another components of the chemical cocktail necessary for “safe” execution drugs run out and the ACLU lawyers started whining about the pain and suffering of those who, for example, rape, torture and murder little children), "... so what the hell do you do with 'em?"
Our current conservative autocracy holds the hand of Squeamishness where there is profit to be pulled… usually by sanctioning persons deemed hostile to the benevolent planners… and otherwise exploits their more foolish adventurism to keep the public itself hostile to PC-chained abominations like fair wages, a clean environment and decent healthcare and, so, under the thrall of the same old termites.
There are times to embrace, the Bible says, and times to refrain from embracing. And those times are now.
Well, under a Catfish Presidency, Congress would have to bite that bullet on the public health. Either we dump all our sex, dope and chocolate covered peanut laws down the john and flush twice (enacting Pittacine "aggravation" statutes to dampen real crime under real or imaginary influences, build jackass camps in our forests and deserts so stoners, pervs and derelicts won't clog our cities any more than they do so now) or get consistent and serious about making Americans immortal (whether they wish or not) by making possession and/or consumption of alcohol, tobacco, non-missionary sex, meat and refined sugar crimes. Repeal the 23rd Amendment, as repealed the 19th and dispatch a Federal hybrid of narcotics and immigration police to invade California and Colorado – even if it means the medicinal potneadss getting into shootouts with the local cops. (It’ll save money on Social Security and Medicare.) Don't we all want to be like the vassels of the good burg of Calabasas, California, as outlawed ciggies everywhere except at home, with a permit? Forget about our failed Bloomberg Presidency dream, install him as Surgeon General; give the dude plenipotentiary powers and install a smoke detector in every home and surveillance devices in every crapper as can analyze the composition of organic waste and immediately notify police of violations. Fun to see all them ol' tobacco, bacon and Coca Cola lobbyteers rolling around in dirty front yards with Rottweilers ripping their European suits to tatters, loose Winstons bouncing from their boxers as ATF agents Rodney King'em with the grandkids crying and neighbors gawking, then haul 'em off to jail! Not to mention Rush Limbaugh on the dope and calories, both, them as wannabe Seth Rogan, or that creepy Johnny Deepy pirate from the two chocolate movies, if'n he ever comes back from France...
We’re already halfway there, thanks to the plague doctors as now tell us that testing for infections by sticking Q-tips up your nose is not as effective as soliciting (voluntarily now, but just wait!) samples of “wastewater” in a paper cup to differentiate between the merely naked and the soon dead.
(Down in his private Vice-Presidential suite in Hell, Nelson… twenty years for two joints… Rockefeller must be whooping it up with a bottle of Crystal and two or three of his favourite party squeezes like Marilyn Monroe, Typhoid Mary or Madame Pompadour!)
Six AM rising time and public calisthenics, too! "When you quit exercising," nonagenarian evangelist Jack LaLanne tied the whole sweet potato pie together with Dominion's shoelaces before God called him to breakfast (gluten-free granola, oat milk, decaf), "the Devil will get you!" ‘Snot’s so bad,’ Nellie responds.
So let’s send out condemned crooks as exhausted the patience of Algren’s judge onwards and downwards to that entity by injecting them with a cheap, easily obtainable death-drug that might offend victims’ relatives for letting those as murdered their loved ones depart the planet with a song in their hearts and a smile on their lips, but die… all the same…and save us the cost of their thousand and one baseless appeals…
"As man suffers from the same physical evils as lower animals," allowed Chuckie Darwin in his "Descent of Man", "...he has no right to expect an immunity from the evils consequent on the struggle for existence."
Ain’t much of a Donald fan, but I could get behind seeing the Trumpster tell America’s Big Nanny: “You’re fired!”
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