Serving the Metropolitan Area
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, 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...
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 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 will sustain 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.
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.
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!)… 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 behadings have 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-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!...”
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 that goldarn, goldbrickin’ Beetle fuckin’ Bailey in 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 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 returns to the private sector in 2025). 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 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 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 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 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 criminals, 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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