//
you're reading...
Politics, Statism

What do these gents have in common ?

My apologies, Mick (I actually “like” you)…

OK.

I bet I can guess what you are thinking?  “Oh great, here goes that prissy ‘preci’ guy again with the whole ‘oh, look at their lips and toothy grins” bit.

Well, guess again, Carp-breath.

Nope, I was actually thinking about that “other” quality they all share.

People from my generation are easily taken back to a simpler time, when the Beatles were on a meteoric rise, and a little group known as the “Stones” were “up-and-comers”…but, mind you, up-and-comers following the so-called “British Invasion”.

America, under seige.

So what of it, you ask?

Well, here, the tables are turned.  Here you have two “big-lipped, toothy-grinned” rock star politicians who are now invading Europe, Uganda and other points, East.  Tsk, tsk.

Those randy Euros…I wonder how they feel about the Yankee scourge now?

Well, let me tell you how I feel.

Barrack, time, it ain’t on your side.  You can go over-seas with your carpet bags and you can court the courtly courtesans, but listen, “We, the peeps”…we are the one’s voting for you, pal.

Not those nasty Euros.

Not Mick Jagger.

Not Paul McCartney.

Not Merkel, not Sarkozky, and not that guy in England (does anyone know his name?).

They say nothing stinks like old money, but then, I’ve never known a Medici.

Bottom line, pal, you can take your whirlwind tour.  You ain’t never gonna be as big as the Stones.  The Stones were cool.  Wait a minute.  They still are.

(and where are those silver beetles now?  sorry Ringo).

So bask in the limelight, Senator.  Just remember, it is fleeting.

Oh, you have your last waltz with Ms. Couric in your arms at the moment, but while you dance, there are American men and women fighting (and, unfortunately, dying) for their country.

While you dance, there are American men and women back here at home “humping and pumping” (for those of you in El Segundo, that is a euphamism (a word or phrase that sounds different, but means the same) for WORKING. Working-class dogs, we are.  And we, like the soldier, contribute as well (they would not have their MRI’s and Kevlar if it were not for our toil and taxes).

While you have your starched, white sleeves rolled up in some Caviar bar courting European favor by visiting Iraq and Afghanistan, we (ourselves and John McCain) are back here at home actually doing something to advance OUR cause (you, know, that little ol’ country called America – the one for which you and your wife are only proud now that the two of you have shot up to “rock-star” status). Undoubtedly Punk Rock.

So while you are hob-knobbing with friends like James Earl, Bubba, Richardson, Pelosi, Reed and all that blue-blood Euro-trashistocracy, try and remember where it is exactly you came from.

Say, Barrack, where, exactly, DO you come from?

I darn-sure know it is not from the hills of East Tennessee, and I have a pretty good idea it isn’t from the Arkansan Ozarks either.

You say you are from the South Side of Chicago [baddest part of…well, you know]…[quoting those darned rock stars, again]…but anyhow, from what part of America do you hail?  Oh, you can tell us you are from Chicago, and that may be where you reside, but what we really want to is “where are you coming from”.

I think I have a pretty good idea.

You are feeding into that whole “peace, love and drugs” culture.  Poppy seeds, psychadelia and Mary Jane, baby.

Well you know what, Mr. Caviar-stained lips and toothy grin…you can have your last waltz with Ms. Couric.

I for one, I want a party that’s gonna sustain well into the next century.  I want a two-party Nation that will survive.  Hell, I’d settle for a three party Nation…just to know that the children and grandchildren of America will be happy and prosperous light-years down the road.

I do not want to entrust the leadership of the United States of America to some globe-trotting bum with an entourage of dope addicts and yes-men.

Give me a break.

Do you really think we’ve progressed to a point where some jonesing acid freak should (or even could, Mr. “presumptive” nominee) have his or her hand on the nuclear button?

What if you and your pals are all stoned when the war breaks out…then what?  Do we lose two more towers?  Perhaps it will be two cities this time.

How are things, Philadelphians?  Houstonites? Atlantans?  You good?

Good.

So life’s treating you good, huh?  Well.  That’s great!

KABOOM.

Knock, knock…

It’s a sad day when Atlantans are reduced to a scurry of glowing cock-roaches.

I have had it with you and your shenanigans, Senator.  If something productive does not come out of this wild-eyed junket you are gingerly skipping through, I for one know in absolute terms that should you gain the oval office, this country is…sorry Cheech and Chong (they are like rock stars, aren’t they?)…

up in smoke.

About precipii

An aged anti-hippie, ...

Discussion

No comments yet.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Archives

%d bloggers like this: