From CNN to Congress, the BS Gets Deeper

As we are all aware, President Trump is being given a rough time. Not only foot-and-soldier Liberals (Progressives, whatever) hate the man because HRC lost the election, the warped media and even members of his own party, want to oust him from office. It's easy to understand the reasoning of Liberals (Progressives, whatever) and the liberal media, but why are fellow Republicans wanting him out? It doesn't make sense, unless, of course, the motives of the Right are known: President Trump wants to drain the swamp, the swamp likes things just the way they are.
When we parted company last week Red-State Louie, Pud Politico and I were sloshing through the halls and offices of the Center for Nitwitty News (CNN). As we progressed along it became necessary to exchange sneakers for knee-high galoshes, and a nice, young Republican entrepreneur out to make a few dollars, provided us with gas masks, in order to allow us to breathe; the stench was really getting bad.
We left the Center for Nitwitty News through a back door and crossed the street toward the Halls of Congress. The sloshing was becoming more and more difficult as the BS become outlandishly deep. Luckily another young Republican entrepreneur had a booth set up on the corner, selling hip waders. The BS was sneaking in over the tops of the knee-highs as we approached to look over the many styles and colors of hip waders on display. They came in pink and yellow, the most popular were those in variegated color patterns (for the ladies, I presume, but we were mildly shocked at the number of frilly patterns being chosen by frilly men).
Red State and I chose a pair of unfrilly black waders with white mermaid glued on the sides; Pud selected a pair of light green and chartreuse boots patterned in a series of ornate question marks, which caused the young entrepreneur to raise his eyebrows. He relaxed a bit when we explained that Pud was a Liberal (progressive, whatever) twit. The guy smiles and says he sees quite a lot of that around here.
We were given a nominal trade-in allowance for our knee boots. We slipped on the waders, making sure to fasten the shoulder straps (the guy recommended that we do so because the "excrement is very deep in the Halls of Congress."
And, boy, he wasn't kidding. It wasn't so much the depth of stuff at normal levels, but those lapping waves are a bitch. Seeing everyone in hip waders and a gas mask yondering through the poop was a rip.
We hadn't traveled far when we came upon a man trekking along clutching a stack of folders to his chest, and not wearing boots or a gas mask. He was headed somewhere talking on a cell phone and laughing about something. I stopped and asked him where were his boots and mask.
"Why would I need those things," he asked, his face an amused question.
"Because of the really bad smell and the hip deep BS we are walking through," says I.
"Funny, I don't smell anything bad, and we in the Senate refuse to lower our work to the level of BS."
"What would you call what you do?"
"We call it the important work of the people," says he.
"Is that so?"
"Yep."
"What was the last important thing you did?"
"Actually, we have a lot of important legislation we're holding back, until we get rid of Trump," he said with a smirk. "We're for a lot of things the president doesn't like."
"Let me guess," says I, "you guys want to spend more money foolishly and Trump won't go for it. Right?"
The guy offers up an embarrassed shrug, and with a red face, says, "Well, er, I wouldn't call it 'foolish', exactly."
"What exactly would you call what Congress does? I mean other than approve the policy of asset forfeiture, effectively allowing offices of the federal government to steal the belongings from homes in the private sector."
"Well, you see ... um, we didn't think the time was right for a, uh,  tax increase, and as we like to spend money and needed more of it ..."
"You thought it would be okay to just take it from the people. That's theft!"
"But when Congress steals, er, that is, takes the money, it's okay."
"It may be legal, but it ain't okay. Not all of that money is used for legitimate purposes, I hear; what happens to the rest?"
"Well, eh, eh, I'm not supposed to say."
"I hear Congress threw an incredible Christmas bash last year using forfeiture money. And did ATFB actually use a chunk to buy a luxury yacht to play around in?"
"I wouldn't know anything about that." Clutching the folders tighter, he said, "I really have to go. Duty calls."
"And there's still money to be spent?"
"Of course. And you know something, smart ass, there ain't a damn thing you can do about it"
And that's exactly why we were wearing hip boots and gas masks.

Inside the Center for Nitwitty News

Have you been wondering what the big fuss over Confederate monuments is all about? Since we talked together last week, there has been a huge upheaval in interest about the monuments, most of which were raised more than a century ago.

There’s something fishy going on here.

Something diabolical is happening.

It sure enough has to be a cabal of Progressive rabble-rousers attempting to cause problems for the president. Hillary Clinton? Barack Obama? George Soros? Or any number of other low-lying creatures (say, the national media) trying to have President Trump impeached (for who knows what? He’s done nothing illegal.)We should applaud the man for hanging in there in opposing the slings and potshots flung his way.

No member of the media that I have heard has had a single decent thing to say about Donald Trump, although the man has set an ambitious agenda that would Make America Great Again. It appears he’s not getting very much help from anywhere, left or right. It could be Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell got something right when he stated that perhaps the president was not accustomed to the slower pace that legislation in D.C. takes. I’m sure there are no successful CEOs who would tolerate such a pace in business. It doesn’t work that way in the world of industry – you get it done yesterday !

I must admit that I don’t have much time for watching CNN, MSNBC and other crappy stations of that kind. The few times I have listened, I quickly got the gist of the conversations ‒ Everything is Trump’s fault. Trump won the election because of the Russians. Impeach Trump! Never once have I heard a satisfactory reason for impeaching the president, other than these networks don’t like him and they’re mad as hell that Hillary lost the election.

Tough shit, I say. I didn’t like it when Barack O. won back in ’08, either.

The truth is, though, there’s still good and bad news. The good news is the House leader has chosen not to censure the president – the reason being, there is no reason to. Much more disturbing is that the LGBTQ (it’s getting more and more difficult not to be represented by one of those letters) is considering suing for reparations for fat, black, oddball chicks. (Do not doubt me – if this baloney is brought forward for legislative debate (especially in New York), we will be supporting fat, black, queer chicks. It’s a done deal. Politicians do not have the cojones to vote it down.)

 

Meanwhile, back to our investigation of the roots of the latest social turmoil. Me and my buddy Red State Louie and our not-too-bright Progressive hanger-on, Pud Politico, were cracking back a few at the Gurglin’ Hen and Psuedo-Rooster House of Cocktails, near Democrat headquarters in D.C.

“Didja hear,” says our erudite Liberal colleague, “where Virginia Governor McAuliffe has stepped forward to propose profound anti-gun legislation again. He’s a hell of a man, that McAuliffe, ain’t he?” Pud raised a glass of green beer to toast the governor. “Although I don’t suppose you two will think much of it.”

Red State slugged down a shot of barleycorn neat, and says, “We don’t think nothing of it because McAuliffe’s an idiot, just like the retard in the governor’s office in New York.

“Tell us something, Pud, if nobody was shot at at Charlottesville, why does the governor think it’s necessary to bring up the gun issue again?”

“But, er …”

“Shut up, Pud,” says I. Let’s take a walk over to the CNN building. I’ll bet we can get some real poop on social turmoil over there.”

“CNN? Why are you picking on CNN?” asked Pud.

“It’s the Center for Nitwitty News. If there’s any behind-the-scenes crapola going on to foment riots in the country, the Center for Nitwitty News is the right place to start looking.”

It didn’t take long to verify my observation. An unpleasant odor wafted on the afternoon D.C. breeze. The closer we strode the stinkier the smell roiled to greet our nostrils. At the entrance some enterprising young fellow, obviously a Conservative entrepreneur trying to make a buck, was selling disposable oxygen masks. The only people not breathing through such an apparatus were obviously Liberal employees, who did not recognize the stink as stink. For them, everything was fine.

We each bought a mask and quickly slipped it on. What a relief! We then progressed to the back of the lobby to wait for an elevator.  We stopped at the first floor.

As the doors slid open we viewed the Center for Nitwitty News newsroom. The place was huge and, by the looks of things, there was a lot of smelly stuff happening in the news‒or maybe just the newsroom.

“Look at the monitor,” yelled one reporter, obviously a novice, “there’s a triple murder in Baltimore! Three cops shot down!”

“Never mind that,” yelped an editor, “here’s a report that came from someplace that says an anonymous email was sent to somebody that says that maybe President Trump got help from the Russians in the election  … Get right on it; I want it for the 6 o’clock news.”

“You see there,” yelped Politico, “now that’s real investigative reporting. That editor should be up for a Pulitzer. I’m notifying the committee right now,” he said reaching for his phone.

Red State and I progressed on through the room, leaving Pud in his tracks. The floors became slippery with a smelly brown substance that we soon recognized as bullshit. As it began slopping over the tops of our sneakers we stumbled into a closet and found, to our everlasting relief, a box of knee-high galoshes. We quickly slipped into a pair and continued our walk through the dark halls of pernicious, Progressive  rumors.

There were offices on either side of a long hallway. From well down the hall a voice rang out, “Halleluyah, lookee here! A government truck collided with a bus that had a donkey painted on the side in Hollywood.  An obvious political smackdown on Progressive ideas and ideals. I think we can blame it on Trump and demand impeachment. Get on it, People!”

“Now there you go,” howls Pud, “Progressives doing their jobs. I love it.!”

“Doing their jobs?” asks Red State. “Whatever do you mean? Since when have Progressives had any Ideas and ideals? It’s just a bunch of jackasses braying at the moon.”

What? There are Nuts in California?

While sitting back this morning, enjoying a magazine and a cup of joe, wondering what to put into this space, I encountered a story about my boyhood hometown.

Now you might wonder why I would think a story about my boyhood hometown would interest you (and maybe it won’t), but give me few lines to make my case.

A couple of years ago, while beginning a memoir, I went on Google Earth to find the place of my youth. I hardly recognized the place; it is quite a bit bigger than when I left there many years ago. At that time the population of Los Molinos, California was around 500; now it’s upwards of 3,000. Quite a difference. As there is not much by way of job opportunities in the village, I thought it might be a bedroom community for Red Bluff, a town about 16 miles north. Then I noticed one of those popup websites that said Red Bluff was one of the 10 most redneck towns in California‒just like Hornell, Bath and Penn Yan are in New York. After scanning around with the online satellite, I began wondering why Los Molinos wasn’t designated a redneck town. Must not have had a Walmart, which really is one of the criteria.

Anyway, I scanned south in order to find the old homestead. It would have been mostly unrecognizable except for the two streams running through it that flow in a recognizable pattern. The old farmhouse was gone, burned down according to one source then replaced with an equipment shed. The biggest difference was a half mile north at the site of the farm buildings. Nothing there was the same; similar but different, causing a twinge of nostalgia to pass through me, a longing for what had been.

The item in the magazine that seized my eye spoke of Los Molinos, now a mecca for nut growers, as the site for a major theft of walnuts.

Los Molinos is situated on the northern edge of California’s Central Valley, the agricultural center of the state and one of the largest of food production areas in the United States. The northern area, in which the old homestead rests, has been turned over to the production of walnuts. Not entirely, of course, but mostly. Most of the land east of US99E was in walnuts.

Tehama County, where the village sits, has always been an agricultural community; every kind of edible product was grown there. We had a dairy farm, next door to the north crops‒oats, barley, alfalfa‒ were grown, next it was pigs; further north were prune orchards. The farm to the south grew peaches and grapes and pigs (An adventure of mine on each of these places can be read in the memoir, which will be out in the few months). A friend’s dad had honey bees. And on and on. Now it was mostly nuts.

The way things are going in California, I would have thought all of the nuts would be found in Sacramento (the capital) or Beverly Hills (where the movie stars live.) This became a paramount idea when it was announced that California was seceding from the union. You had to know there were nuts behind that idea. Then they doubled down by making every town a sanctuary for illegal aliens, even though the state would lose most of its federal funding for doing so. I’m sure they were incensed at the audacity of Republican President Trump’s making such a suggestion, but the sages of Sacramento simply said they would raise taxes to cover the loss. Now most of us know that California is one of the highest taxed states in the union already. Right? But the nuts, and there are lots and lots of nuts in California, said “Ah, go ahead and tax us some more. We’d like it!”

Whadya expect? These are mostly Liberals, you know. Most of the state’s Conservatives have already left the Nut State for less nutty places to live. The move became imperative when it was divulged that the loss of federal money far exceeded the state’s GDP. But that was only Reason Numero Uno. Numero Dos‒The legislation sanctioning sanctuary to people who should not be allowed in the United States did not address those with criminals records. So not only do California Nuts have to support welfare-bound illegals, they will have to fork over more of their pay in order to punish evil-doers.

But what the heck? These are nutty Liberals we’re talking about. You can just hear them, now: “Taxes? More taxes? Heck, man, bring ‘em on! We’re stupid-assed Liberals. We’d enjoy that!”

But please keep in mind, oh readers of mine, the ones saying this are Southern Nuts. We from the North are much smarter‒although we are known to use an illegal to pick a few nuts from time to time. And milk the cows and feed the pigs and harvest the grapes and the apples and the