The Journal
Serving the Metropolitan Area
Since 1872
July 10th
NEW FRONTIERS of
CONTEMPT!
By Jack Parnell - retired Congressman and Independent Presidential
candidate
Syndicated
by Acme Features
Have to
confess so, now, a'fore "Snake" Carville,
“Sloppy” Steve Bannon, Karl Rove, Ralph Reed, Robbie Mooch, Anthony Mooch,
Stevie Minooch, Screamin’
Howie Dean, Ronna MacDonna, Crazy Abrams, Prince
Rebus, Brad Forsale, Debbie Wasshername
or whomsoever newbie Publocrats pluck from that great
river of pig sewage as are called consultancies to trash me, come next election
season...
My boys, they read "Souljacker"!
Now, if you deem the
parenting persuasion a class, you'll find males of the species divided between those
who cut their intellectual teeth on D.C. comics, as opposed to them as grew up
on Marvels. (Yeah, there were adolescents as swore by the undergrounds… Trashman
and Pissgums and Mister Natural… also those who never
tackled anything more challenging than "Archie" or "$crooge McDuck", maybe, but let's
toss the both.)
Anyway, I'm proud to
say I was a D.C. boy, grew up a D.C. man and stayed so; and not only ‘cause the
Senator brought me up to the big, bad city. Pick up a vintage Batman or a Superman...
Green Lantern, even, before the movie... and there unrolled a world before you,
world in black and white (at least between the covers, where things mattered).
Troubled men in spandex with masks and capes, bound on savin'
the world, want it or don’t. Those Marvel heroes seemed suspicious; all that
psychological hosing hanging out. Spiderman, Thor and the Hulk… not to mention
Iron Man, (Iron’s brittle and it rusts, couldn’t Tony Starkweather have
upgraded to Steel Man?)… they all smelt like liberals to
me; liberal Democrats! Like the rasslers on the
WCW as opposed to the real stuff on WWF before Ted Turner tanked and the animal
lovers chopped off Vince’s nuts. Might suffice
for witty conversation over quiche with Woody Allen, Babs and Bono, but not the
sort you'd want watching your back should some Souljacker
pop out'n a manhole.
This bothers me.
Where I come from, s'alright for bodies in the
funnies to dress up in Mardi Gras drag, whisper stuff like "The joy of
life is the power to take life!", long as it's understood we
have a villain here. But D.C. and
Marvel have loosened their entry requirements to any old cosplay freek and have been joined by dozens of insistently dirty
competitor-trolls, and Souljacker's their hero!
Now, if the world is
a zero-sum society, who wouldn't care to augment their potency at the
expense of oafs who deserve getting their hearts ripped out,
blood drunk and them thin blue vapors as seem to represent someone’s essence sniffed up like lines of happy
powder? Nuns, Morty Scow out in California tells me, nuns… beating
each other senseless over the expired produce grocers set out - ripping off
habits and rollin’ round in dumpsters like the gals
at Slick Phil's Catwalk, over the Ohio line. Carmelites strangling Sallies with
rosaries! Banks charging the fifteen-buck fees to cash ten
dollar checks. Eight six-buck-an-hour wino Santas
(no minwage for independent contractors since jolly
old Saint Nick can accept jolly old tips)
gunned down this past Christmas season (two by ISIS, six by “domestic”
terrorists as is our new euphemism for madmen), not to mention Denver... where
the malls sent their Kringles to meet with kids in
the county jail so's the mall-bomber couldn't get at them.
Donald Trump – pere et fils!
The plague!
The war and the inflacession!
The Donkeycrats...
And them Souljacker folks - they've budgeted
two hundred-eighty million for their movie that's to open just in time for next
Christmas, barring another strike or variant.
Menacing as it may
sound, these days, I grew up in a country where kids rode bicycles (without
mandatory helmets) to schools (without metal detectors and contraband-sniffing
Rottweilers)! Even went trick or treating of a Halloween… soliciting, then
eating, candy bars as weighed something when you held them in your hand, like
Mexican pesos used to do! People got off and on buses, trains and planes
without armed cretins making them strip down and take rectal probes before
strangers and family while guiltily complying with the demand: “Your papers,
please!” Civilized folk didn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversations or use
little flying bugs to peep into windows and take pictures of their privates to
post on You Tube. That place used to be called the Land of the Free, where we
Americans said what we thought and did what we damn well wanted, though if
anything we did happened to violate common sense or common-sense
law, we paid the consequences, and, mostly, without whining like all those
“Pity Me!” MAGAteen refuseniks facing the Omega
Variant death penalty for frolicking at a Lake of the Ozarks bash (as caused
those envious foreigners to call us the “Home of the Brave”).
No screechy atheists
kicking over Christmas crčches in the town square. No white lawyers pretendin'
to represent the woo-woo-Indians (as apart from the from-India Indians) filing
lawsuits to ban the Star Spangled Banner n’ Declaration of Independence as
defamatory! They’re staying on their
reservations, so to speak, protesting offensive MBL and NFL mascots. Nobody giving you the sack for having said the
n-word thirty years ago after some nword stuck a gun into
your face.
And nobody applying
to work down at the copy shop having to take psychological tests that ask: "Would
you rather sleep with your mother or kiss a boy?"; then selling your answers
to the insurance companies.
I know whereof I
speak on the topic of juvenile delinquency! Back when I was a pup, boys drove
hot-rods up and down Strips, talked back in class – read Henry Miller and "Catcher
in the Rye" under the sheets, with flashlights. Comic books, too! Everywhere you looked lurked sex and drugs and
rock and roll.
We grew scalp and
facial hair, burned bras... the gals, at
least, in them days, mostly... once we left school, we joined the Army and
burned babies, or else resisted the government and burned draft cards. Blew up
the random toilet, too! People supposed to know their place and drink from toilety-smellin’ water fountains set out especially for
them forgot to do so, or just plain refused. Girls discovered birth control
and... since the dollar had already begun devaluing down to what pesos used to
be... took on careers of their own, not just jobs to fill until meeting Mister
Right.
We were rotten kids,
as the likes of Bill O’Reilly and Mike Pence never tired of telling us until the
one six when MAGA turned out to be a playpen of rotten homicidal kids, and not at all ashamed at being so. Now our
progeny, even our progeny's progeny – these are pale revenants at the banquet of
youthful sybaritism... sure, they have their sex
and drugs and music, but all these are derivative, corporate, watered down and,
most probably, being videotaped for sale to Rupert Murdoch if he hasn’t died
this week. The young are polite, indistinct... Bidenesque…
except, now and again, until some explode and gun down enemies or strangers. Or their families.
Who wouldn't love
kids like that? We don't! We hate 'em!
We plant’em in private madrassas, as teach Israel blew up
the St. Louis arch while Satan was out seeding Wyoming with fake dinosaur fossils,
or in public schools unfit to train an organ-grinder's monkey… then go ape when
they turn twenty-one and can't make change. "We were surprised at just how
much animosity there is toward young people in the employer community," concludes
Robert Zemsky, this pollster for the University of Pennsylvania in whose focus
groups, the response was almost scatological.
"The trouble is
if you dump on young people long enough, it becomes a self fulfilling
prophecy."
People of any age ain’t worth what they used to be, especially Americans as
expect too many toys and necessities for employers to pay them to buy when
there are Chinese kids available for a bowl of rice, or voicemail and
robocalling apps for the price of a cheap CD. The private and public sector termites,
elected or not, oppress us because we believe we deserve to be
kicked round. We've crossed that line this Frenchman, Jacques Legoff, I think he was, drew in the bloody sand a tad a’fore that 1963 incident at Dallas... as he called his "New
Frontier of Contempt". But I believe it was P. T. Barnum who first noted
that Americans love to be fooled. We embrace cretinous bullies
who kick us round then, every four years, try to shake our hands. In Nigeria,
they lynch glandhandlers, political or
otherwise, due to the quantity of occult villains said to be able to snatch
testicles through a dude's trousers, or robes... whatever... just by shaking
hands.
Back in 1963, it was
only the leftist college professors as drank tea with pinkie fingers raised who
mocked the American public as “sheeple”. Now, we have right-wing teabaggers with three-day
stubbles in red ballcaps and sweaty Kid Rock hoodies as do the same.
Now that Sleepy Joe is
sleeping in the White House basement while Kamalala rules
the roost and signs Federal legislation to overturn state and local rent
controls, just like she did when she was San Francisco’s D.A. and main squeeze
of the Feinstein/Willie Brown/Leota Helmsley troika
of working and producing-class eradifications and evictions
while that last lame dick in the White House as stoked the 2021 insurrection
limped off into his casino and reality show mental sunset, praying that the
Grungy Old Party will choose another successor from among the less repulsive
progeny to Djonald, or Bush the Third, or some
slender man who argues that the world began in 4004 BC. Also more Mormons, the economic aspirationist, unsanctified Governor or the little Senator
from Florida, the neo-Secessionist or cat-fearing ex-Attorney General and the
one as played a prosecutor on the tube… the Doctor, the Lawyer, the
crypto-pirate; the Professor, the Movie Star, another billionaire with funny
hair and a goofy wife as well as, probably, the ghost of Gilligan. (RIP Mary
Anne, we still missya!) Various Democrats... speaking of rising from
the dead after the 2021 race war meltdown... brushing the maggots off their
cuffs and falling into lockstep behind their trite and true old gerontocracy:
perhaps the sleepy old Prez again. Or the hot to trot black and from-India Indian
Acting Prez and Vice, or the loud woman (on the left)
as claimed to be an Indian… er, Native American… or, if moderate and
progressive wings start flying in circles, some old retread again. That other Vice from Y2K or the brain-injured
former First Lady or Swiftboat Sam again, the
Bern-man or else maybe a fresh (under eighty) face. Maybe the pretend Mexican, a Texican whose band
just couldn’t cut it – twice! One of
those real Latino twins, doomed to years of ‘splainin’
that they’re not the progeny of Fidel or even Raul! That pornstar lawyer,
out of jail now! The billionaires! Martin O’Malley! Just a sneakier articulation of that delusion
promoted by Martin Regalia, of the National Chamber of Commerce, "...we're
not (just) the rats on the treadmill, we're the rats that built the
treadmill."
Are we bein’ set up for another Kamalala-Trump
(senior, if SCOTUS vitiates the 22nd, junior if not… Erik if Repubs go crazy) pigfight… or,
maybe, a Stephen Miller-Hunter Biden scuffle like something out of those Italian
commix where the vampires in the nursing homes fall over one another for a
bottle of blood? Like the honorable
ex-Senator Lott used to be fond of saying: "Republicans are from Mars,
Democrats from Venus." (Neither of
which is habitable.) Some less
charitable sorts prefer consigning their faction to Heaven, and those other
guys to Hell. (I even sort of pity Anne
Coulter, who progressed from calling her enemies “atheists” to “traitors”, then
“demons” from the fiery pit… what does she do for an encore? How will she deal with me?)
I think it's time we
had a President from, and for, the Earth.
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