The Journal


Serving the Metropolitan Area


Since 1872



January 15th




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, ScreaminHowie Dean, Prince Rebus, Debbie Wasshername or whomever newbie the Publocrats pluck from that great river of pig sewage as are called the consultancies to trash me, come election season...

          My boys, they read "Souljacker"!

          Now, if you take the parenting persuasion as 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 who never tackled anything more challenging than "Archie" or "$crooge McDuck", maybe, but let's toss those.)

          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 was a world for you, 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 and the Hulk… not to mention Iron Man. (iron’s brittle and it rusts, couldn’t he upgrade to Steel Man?)… they all smelt like liberals to me, liberal Democrats! 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, whispering 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 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 a line 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 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.

          And them Souljacker folks - they've budgeted a hundred-eighty million for their movie that's to open just in time for next Christmas.

          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, and civilized folk didn’t eavesdrop on other people’s conversation 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 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 (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!  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 and 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... gals, at least, 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 never tire of telling us, and not at all ashamed at being so. Now our progeny, even our progeny's progeny, 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... except, now and again, until some explode and gun down enemies or strangers.

          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 ballistic 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 as do the same.

          Soon enuff, that lame dick in the White House will limp off into his casino and reality show sunset and the loyal opposition will choose another successor from among the less repulsive brother to George the Third, or some slender man who argues that the world began in 4004 BC.  Also more Mormons, the economic aspirationist, the neo-Secessionist or cat-fearing ex-Attorney General and the one as played a prosecutor on the tube… the Doctor, the Lawyer, the Senator, the Professor, the Movie Star, another billionaire with funny hair and a goofy wife as well as, probably, the ghost of Gilligan. Various Democrats... speaking of rising from the dead... will brush the maggots off their cuff and fall into lockstep behind gerontocracy: the brain-injured former First Lady again, the former Vice or that Black Muslim up in Minnesota or else maybe a fresh face – the from-India Indian Senator or her as claimed to be an Indian… er, Native American.  The pornstar lawyer, that guy doomed to years of ‘splainin’ that he’s not Fidel or even 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 Clinton-Bush pigfight… or, maybe, a Romney-Biden scuffle like something out of those Italian comix?  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.