Just Who is the D.I.C.K.S. Head?

“Hey, Dad. Where did this rash on my arm come from?” asked Dodda.

“Oh, my,” said Fadda. “It must have come from that bush over in the Rats yard.”

“Why do you say that? We have a bush just like it here in our yard.”

“Because it just can’t be our fault. That guy’s a Rat; we , on the other hand, are Dingalings. Dingalings In the Concrete Kite Society, to be completely correct.”

“D.I.C.K.S.?  I think I know about dicks, but what do you mean by a Concrete Kite Society?” asked Dodda.

“We’re a bunch of Dingalings that sit around, come up will really wacked out ideas, to help change the country, but we just can’t get our ideas to fly. Sometimes we can’t even get them off the ground.”

“Like a Concrete Kite-or a lead balloon. I get it. But back to why you think my poison oak is the fault of that Rat, as you call him.”

“It may not be him, it just can’t be us. We can’t be responsible for anything.”

“I guess I just don’t see the problem, no one is perfect …”

“Except us; we must appear to be perfect. We must appear to be the answer to all of America’s problems, explained Fadda.”

”But no one can possibly have all of the answers, dear,” said Mudda, who had just arrived. “ Especially people referred to as Dingalings by the Rats.”

“That’s why we are forced to lie so much.”

“Yeah, we’ve all noticed that. Dingalings lie about the economy, terrorists, gun control, just about everything, don’t they?” asked Dodda.

“Well, yeah, it’s that the Rats keep contradicting what we say and standing in the way of what we want to accomplish for the country. And the maddening part is they make so damned much sense.”

“And they don’t have to lie, do they? By the way, who’s the boss Dingaling, you know, the D.I.C.K.S. head?”

“Oh, there’s a mess of them around who think of themselves that way, but the real boss is a guy named BO who lives in Washington, D.C.”

“He’s the real D.I.C.K.S. head?”

“Oh, yeah, and he’s just wonderful. His big project is shoving gun control down the throats of the American people, going through the U.N., in order to take future attempts at legislation away from the U.S. Congress. It’ll be international law.”

“Sounds like a big deal.”

“Oh, it is. It is. It’s something only big D.I.C.K.S. can accomplish.”

“But won’t the Rats and maybe some the Dingalings register their disapproval at the polls in November, by withholding their votes from Dingalings,” Mudda wanted to know.

“That’s why we can’t be blamed for anything. Everything has to be the Rats’ fault. Everything.”

“Even Orlando?”

“Especially Orlando!”

But how? Rats weren’t even there!”

“But they support the 2^nd Amendment. We Dingalings have to do everything we can to make sure our D.I.C.K.S. head policies don’t take the rap for the deaths of those people in Orlando, or any place else, for that matter.

“That why that bush in our yard can’t be blamed for my poison oak?”

“