THE ANGRY WORLD: Divided, We Stand Still. As in, not moving like a LIRR train. (part 1)

With every drop in the bottle of my 90 proof soul, I disliked the concept of Hillary Clinton as President. To keep this piece somewhat short, I will start with the fact that for nearly forty years she has leeched off the public and used the political positions that she and her husband occupied to gain wealth and power. Despite her repeatedly playing the victim card on television while sitting opposite a well dressed refurbished mannequin from the Mainstream Media lobbing her softball questions, the Clintons have used brass knuckles and led pipes when dealing with those who have stood in their way. Taking their time in Washington DC out of the equation, the Clinton record in Arkansas alone might be considered checkered, at best.

The writers of the great show Justified should have used them as a seasonal villain.

Hillary Clinton spoke of vast Right Wing conspiracies while many she had dealings with got their tickets punched in ways that made one recall the death by Rube Goldberg Machine madness of the Final Destination films. And the left calls Steve Bannon “The Grim Reaper”? Bannon looks like a boozer and a brawler, not the Angel of Death with scythe and copy of Mein Kampf in clawed hands. On the other hand, Ebola seems to have a better survival rate than getting tangled up in dealings with Bill and Hillary.

My old man, no fan of Obama, said back in ’08 that if “he(Obama) makes her(Hillary) his Vice President, he’ll be dead in six months.” My father may have accentuated that statement with a fit of spastic coughing caused by fifty years of smoking, but I can’t be sure. We were day drinking at a bar in Long Beach. I could have been distracted by cold hard cider or a low cut tank top on some pretty bartender.

I remember that line as clear as the eyes of a teetotaler, however.

I believe that the Constitution, especially The Bill of Rights, is what makes the United States the greatest country in the history of the world. Hillary Clinton studied the Constitution in the same manner that a serial killer would learn human anatomy. She believes that the United States is nothing more than a piece of expensive real estate on this planet, for all of her cronies to monetize. Ironic, considering the guy she was running against in 2016 was a real estate developer. It is tough not to envision a drunken Hillary pontificating about the benefits of her globalist agenda among her enlightened friends at a ritzy Manhattan cocktail party. As guests politely smile and avoid wine spittle,  I can picture Hillary slurring words about her theoretical political Pangea, bankrolled by George Soros and powered on the fiber channels of Mark Zuckerberg and his social network empire.

Zuckerberg is looking to get revenge for all those times the Biff Tannens of the world hung him from his underwear on a hook in the boys locker room. The Facebook CEO remembers the football stars that flung spitballs at him as he sat alone in the cafeteria  threw right-handed. The parents probably had Ronald Reagan bed sheets and Richard Nixon dinnerware. Win one for the Gipper, huh? Not in the lines of Zuckerberg’s programming code.

The beginnings of Soros’ rise to power play like the opening chapter of a Clive Barker novel. He is a supernatural Harry Lime, profiting off the death and destruction of WW II. He has an anarchist’s soul and banker’s calculating mind. Soros, like Heath Ledger’s Joker, just wants to watch the world burn as he counts his coin. One wonders if he walked the earth when they were scribbling the Book of Revelation on parchment? His head looks like it should be floating in formaldehyde in a dusty jar in the laboratory of some mad scientist. For those of us on the right, these are characters that could crawl out of a Stephen King nightmare. However, knowing how King rolls politically, he is more likely to make these three the heroes in his next novel. A book which will most likely have some Trumpian villain threatening the very existence of the world.

Expect rude language and a meticulously described bad head of hair.

One wonders if Stephen King, who has disdain for organized religion, has found himself kneeling on his bathroom floor,  praying to God since Hillary and the Mainstream Media were embarrassed on Election Day?  As he is a gifted author, one would hope that King has a sense of irony?  Hillary’s campaign, with its powerful data mining resources and staff that were treated like rock stars by the MSM, still seems to be searching for that word’s meaning.

For all the reasons listed above, I understand how many of the everyday people on the left have reacted to Trump’s victory. I fucking get it, dudes. Trust me. I am a Yankees fan who witnessed the hated Boston Red Sox(Stephen King’s favorite team, btw) roar back after being down three games to none and humble the Bronx Bombers and exorcise the Curse of the Bambino. Trump’s win was the political equivalent of that. The conservative ethos was 270 Electoral votes from getting kicked in the cunt and tossed in the basement with the ghosts of Reagan and the recently departed, Phyllis Schlafly. Like many good right wingers, I was stocking up on the essentials,  waiting for the Apocalypse of drooling, SJW zombies stomping through the streets and still managing to complain about a sexist country  if Hillary won. Those essentials being whiskey, hot lesbian porn and enough toilet paper to last until Hillary tried to grab our guns and strangle Freedom of Speech like it was a kitten that belonged to one of Trump’s grandchildren.

After that I would try and sell my dirty Charmin’s to some pristine art gallery in Soho. It would be a sequel to Piss Christ, sort of. I had confidence Trump could win. However, I was dreading having to turn on the television and seeing that crooked old bat, sporting her communist Dr. Zaius get up and angry lunch lady sneer, take the oath of office.

Alcohol is only a temporary fix. Hillary would have been a fucking four year hangover. I think her policies would have been an unflushed toilet of Globalism and Social Justice Warrior cheerleader beer shits. Europe was a nice place to visit and I love Monty Python and Vincent Cassel, but I didn’t want America watered down to become a facsimile of it. That was what those of us on the right were looking at.

continued here










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