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I Want To Fight Ted Cruz

One of the great sacrifices that comes from living way up here in the USA, miles away from Texas and the heart of the confederacy, is that we don’t enjoy timely access to the broad range of news pertaining to Ted “Tough as Texas” Cruz. Indeed, we barely hear tales of fabled adventures at all, unless he’s smiling sheepishly, like a proper milksop, while a certain fat old man calls Mrs. Cruz a “dog.” Or scampering away to “Old Mexico” because his tootsies got chilly when the nation’s only proudly unregulated power grid collapsed, leaving millions of his constituents literally out in the cold, literally powerless, and (again, literally) thirsty and hungry for leadership–not to mention clean water and warm food. Most of his moon-eyed shenanigans pass unnoticed up here in abolitionist country–not unlike his past campaigns for President. From a purely entertainment perspective, this is a shame–but I aim to remedy that.

Following the Mexico fiasco, which Cruz nobly blamed on his young children, Cruz has taken time from blocking economic relief during the Covid-19 Pandemic to work himself up over the custodians of the estate of Theodore “Dr. Seuss” Geisel to halt production and sales of a half dozen books they’ve found to be “problematic” in one way or another. I’ve only read one of them, and that was about 20 years ago, so I’m not qualified to judge. For the record I’ll admit to leaning towards not removing elements of culture retroactively. Scorn them, excoriate them, leverage what we don’t like about them into a learning experience that might prevent us–humans in general, not just you and me–from backsliding. On the other hand, my intellectual preference is very far removed from the moral culpability one might feel from generating profit from material that many find offensive.

Ted Cruz has no such compunctions. So strongly does the man–the Senator!–who believes that the existence of married gay couples is an act of tyranny–feel that he’s retail marketing copies of one of Seuss’s other, less controversial, works at a significant mark-up, because Mr. Cruz is autographing these books as a fundraiser for his next crusade, er, pogrom, um, campaign. In the words of “Amish Elmer,” my former pot dealer: fucking genius, man. And for the record, Amish Elmer was shunned long before we ever met him, but stuck with the chin beard and blue on black ensemble to move stealthily below the radar of law enforcement. That’s another story for another day, but suffice it to say Elmer knows a slick entrepreneurial hack when he sees one.

It is thinking like this–creatively soulless, blindly exploitative, and objectively tone-death–that raises Cruz to the level of “potential adversary.” He does everything but twirl the edges of his mustache and kick kittens, although he’s been known to freeze a dog or two. He’s unapologetically evil, distinguishing himself in this regard at a time when his political allies are literally (there’s that word again–I use it again and again to emphasis that this isn’t a joke I’m making up, its real!) crawling all over themselves in a particularly venal game of King of The Hill to not just rhetorically, but physically, tear down the guiding institutions of our representative democracy–not to mention the very essence of democracy itself. He, like his cuck-buddy Mitch McConnell, has no qualms with embracing villainy for personal gain. Hell, he cherishes the opportunity, and at some level we are compelled to acknowledge his commitment to the role. Yes, he’ll stomp on immigrants! Yes, he’ll assert his masculine entitlement to regulate the reproductive organs of every woman out there–even it it means rolling up his shirtsleeves and getting his hands dirty in the process! Will he lead the struggle to suppress and disenfranchise poor and minority voters, even if it means making voting more difficult for everyone? You KNOW he will! His children, his wife–whomever he has to hurt, whatever it takes, he’s up to the task.

And that’s why I want to fight him. I think it would be a pretty good match. I’m bigger than him, but older too, and he’s butting on a pretty good push of late to catch up in the size department. My hair and beard are better–a nice woman trims me up monthly, so I’m not rocking that indigent, truck-stop predator look that Cruz has made so popular.

The question, of course, is why would he take time out of his busy day, putting aside his quest of personal power at the expense of every non-white, non-straight, non-male, non-christian just to sock it to a fading old smart-ass centrist “living constitutionalist?” But do villains need a reason to lash out at their adversaries? Do the powerful blanch at the opportunity to crush those who dare to speak against them? It is his duty. His calling. His noblesse oblige to knock my ass up between my eye balls while humming “Old Folks at Home” through a mouthful deep friend King Ranch chicken washed down with a tankard of warm Dr. Pepper.

And why am I so animated? Besides wanting to know whether he’s really as “tough as texas?” Me? I’m just pissed that Cruz’s immigrant father killed JFK.

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On Politics, A Mini-Manifesto

I tried for a long time to keep politics out of this blog. Okay, for a little while–but it seemed like forever. I had this idealistic dream that I could keep my mouth shut and john-birch-society-american-flag-hero-einoffensively skip through the ether, getting along with everyone in a post Rodney King dream world of sunshine, lollipops, and glistening dew on early morning spiderwebs.

That went down the crapper quickly enough, because the world is full of rednecks who think America reached its pinnacle in the moments following confederate succession, who deny racism, who think that women’s bodies autonomously reject pregnancy in the event of rape, and Presidents–a fucking President, man–who brags about his history of sexual assault with a wink and a grin that says, well, you know, those chicks were asking for it.

I never liked being called a liberal. I haven’t much stomach for the sensitivity that has become a source of both internal pride and external derision for the moral left. Our unofficial family slogan here in chez junk is “suck it up, Lizzie.” There’s a story behind that–no one here is named Lizzie–but it has been a pretty effective way to raise children. Knocked down? You get back up, wipe your tears on your sleeve, and get on with it. I appreciate the importance that the left has placed on identity, on saying the right words at the right time, on being first and foremost respectful–but it is wearying, too, and it has become clear that in focusing so much energy on not being offensive (which is different from simply being respectful) we have concentrated too much on matters of individuality and too little on those that effect the community at large.

In a manner of speaking, those are peacetime concerns. We are presently at war against a despot who would wipe his fat, pimply ass with the constitution while scheduling prime time melodramas to air him bloviating from that same wrinkled, cellulite-curdled butt. Also against us are the enablers–rational and possibly even generally good men and women who know better–who goddamn know we can be so much better–yet who sit quietly by out of loyalty to party and love of power, hitching their carts to a twitter-mad, id-obsessed madman suffering from classical Textbook narcissistic personality disorder.

I’ve been a Democrat largely because the Pennsylvania electoral system is set up so that independent and third-party voters can’t vote in primaries, which means exclusion from local elections such as town council, school board of directors, and row offices. I’ve stayed screenshot_6a Democrat because however bad it gets, Republicans also seem to be worse. (You think Anthony “Look At My” Weiner isn’t thrilled about Trump’s romp through out ugly political landscape?) Democrats also seem to have better taste in beer.

Some of this is by default. For example: I align with pro-choice and environmentalist positions because, let’s be honest, I love trees, mountains, and untrammeled desert while I don’t particularly care for people and feel very strongly that there should be less of them–and it’s an either/or thing with birth control: teach kids about effective birth control and make it readily available or stick with all this ridiculous abstinence rhetoric and keep the abortion rates where they are.

I may do a position paper sometime in the future, when I’m feeling feisty, but I’m here now to declare–unless you missed it–that for now and for the immediate future, Old Road Apples will be a Voice of The Resistance; not THE voice of the resistance by any stretch of the imagination, but one voice among many, however ragged, second-hand, exhausted, or shrill. It will remain so until the current threat is quashed, until the Constitution is again revered, and until we have leaders who put justice, reason, sanity, and morality ahead of party allegiances and private aspirations.

If you’re a conservative and thrilled with the way things are going, I urge you to stick around, engage me, and make an effort to explain to me why? Because I clearly don’t understand. If you agree with me, in whole or in part, I need to hear from you as well. It is good to know we’re not alone, as we teeter on the brink of destruction. Let’s get this fixed so I can get back to being my old self–it’s far more rewarding to mock liberalism than it is to carry its torch, but as the old saying goes, the enemy of my enemy….

 

 

 

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Fast Feud

The last fast food art post was a bit of a hit, so here’s another.
fast feud

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Commentary

2/11/2014: The Day We Fight Back

https://thedaywefightback.org/Screenshot_1

Of course, if the NSA isn’t dogging you like a lovesick teenager now, they sure as hell will be once you sign a petition or contact your legislators.

But what the hell?  Why not?  Think of it as being a part of history