Red Necks & Me - Tale of Real Fear!
CAUTION: This TOME is not, yet, rated!
Viewer discretion is advised! Violence, Vulgarity, Left Wing Sentiments, Sexual Situations are all included, at NO EXTRA COST! All the things that we love in an article!
(Read at your peril).
Further, Precaution for the CAUTIOUS!👵
NOTE: Right Wing Nut Jobs may attack you in their underwear with merciless, inarticulate comments that will have you scratching your head and asking yourself:
"How did these Maroons get out of the trash bin and into my head?"
These Redneck, Red-Hat wearing, ready to rumble, moonshine sucking Hill Folks are angry twitters with low IQs and bad breath!
Most, if not all, are inbred, who rarely achieved their goal, the 5th grade until they reach their sixteenth birthday, the legal age to quit school and marry their first cousin, or, their favorite siblings.
The old Confederacy, known, now, as "THE RED STATES," where toilet paper still scratches and is purchased by the wagon loads, seems to have an inordinate stranglehold on the Republican Party.
Don't get me wrong, I don't HATE the South, I just do not think it has matured very much since the Days of the Neanderthals.
Hee Haws, (I loved that show)!
You see, Folks, the history that we have been taught is all wrong! Neanderthals did not go extinct, they just migrated to the South and blended in with the local yokels, undetected.
Do not worry your pretty little head, they are easily spotted. They wear silly, little red caps to hide their receding forehead, chew tobacco, and wipe with both hands. Most spend much of their time loading and unloading their weapons while scouring at strangers.
Do Not Disturb Them when they are engaged in their preferred sexual activity, playing with their weapons. It is as dangerous as picking up a sleeping cat. Th ey will attack, claw, hiss, and, maw you in a Nashville Minute!
Researchers have discovered that the Red Cappers' are observed constantly fiddling with their weapons in public! This is reportedly their preferred activity. It is what they live for, what they love, what they stroke the most, and, what they will kill for , their guns. Guns mean more to them than food, or, pussy. They are really "Twisted."
Too bad their obsession is not with their "gums," those crooked, decaying fangs could use some attention.
I know, that my now, many of you, are wondering, "How did I get trapped in this Twisted Sister's bent mind?" Well, it wasn't easy, or, by chance. It's the devious devotion of my cadre of Mind Controllers!
That's right, "mind controllers," Hoss! They were installed while white folks slept soundly during TRUMP thunderous RALLYS IN THE ALLEY, aka, "Revivals & Ho Downs," that his High-Ass ("the Donald") passes off as political events. These events are full of gas, put folks to sleep, but it doesn't last long enough.
Truth be known, Brothers and Sistas of the Corn Hole Degeneration, it is fate! That is right, alt-right, Brothers & Sistas, FATE !
Just as fate, or, as Thumpers like to say, "GOD," appointed Donald John Trump as "America's First Fake POTUS, Real POS," I was appointed ORACLE! Aka, "Messenger to the Masses of Unwashed Asses," to spout my wisdom about the "obvious." Captain Obvious, was not available, so, I was tapped. Well, make that smacked around until I said, "Yes."
After my extensive, forced confinement within the gated confines of the DICK CHENEY "Nursing Home for Wayward Republicans, "where I was required to study porn and listen to Country Music night and day until I repented and was declared "fixed up."
I was not an unwilling resident. I grew to look forward to my weekly Waterboarding Therapy session with Dick Cheney, who giggled constantly as he worked, but, never whistled. His entourage of Red Capped Maroons would wash my mouth and brain out with soap, then, play "Pick Up The Soap" with all of the inmates, er, residents.
Unfortunately, when my Health Care ran out, I was unceremoniously tossed out, ordered to NEVER return to the BIRD DROPPINGS INSTITUTE - A THINK TANK FOR MORONS - NO IDIOTS, PLEASE , located in the basement of the Nursing Home, upon penalty of death. Years later, I learned that it was on direct orders from the courts, all of the RIGHT WING COURTS.
At that, the darkest moment of me "wasted life", I was miraculously ordained by Reverend Oral Fleece, a divine leader/con-man whose moniker, "Straight from the Street and Not From the Police", instructed me to deliver my messages, via hand-scribbled flyers to every drive-thru MacDonald in "Merica!"
Which I did for "Forty Days & Forty Nights," until it rained.
Reverend Oral is known in some circles as "the Very Fermented Pasteur" of the Church of the How Big is Your Wallet, How Small Is Your Brain, and, is considered a "big deal", here, in Mildew, Ohio, a small rural burrow in Southwest Ohio, where there are NO JOBS, not even blow jobs.
Once the Re-Puritans came to town they closed down our major factory and sent all of our good-paying jobs overseas to China. There is a sad country song in our story, somewhere. Maybe, Taylor Swift will pen a hit tune for us to sing on the way to the "firing line." Trump is cleaning the house and is on a tare to get rid of "Rif-Raf." So it is "Bye, Bye, Miss America Pie."
It was my tutelage with Reverend Oral Fleece where I found the courage ( Muscatel & Lime Juice) to step forward out of the shadows of the alley dumpsters and into the holy-rollers "Good-Golly, Miss Molly" light of Evangelical, Talking-In-Tongues With Guns, instead of crosses!
Religious Hypocrisy preached to the worried worshipers of "Trump Urinals' Piss-Pot Politics followers that shocked them as they roll on the church floor in their heathenistic religion sold to them by Pat Robinson, and, every other MONEY hungry Con Artist "PREACHER MAN" for "nickels on the dollar."
It was, howsoever, that is to say, nonetheless, how I found my true calling. It was carved in large block letters above the urinal in the Men's restroom.
The sign, I knew at first glance, was from the "Man Upstairs" (Albert Einstein) because it instructed me to forego eating navel lent and take up exposing the abhorrent political scene, here, in 'Merica Land . . . Land of the Illiterate, "Land of Lakes Butter," and Orange Tan Faces.
Me "Mission" is preaching to the MASSES OF UNWASHED ASSES!
That be you, folks!
I pledged, to the GOD OF CHAOS, that in this drunken state, I shall unmask myself to my legion of fans, known to law enforcement as, "Liberals, Progressives, Rif-Raff, and such," thereby, lighten the way for others to follow me to the Shiny Light On Da Hill of Delight!
Those other chumps, "the Deplorables," that curse my name to the God of Grammar, a fraudulent deity, that has tormented me all of "me" MISERABLE life, I further vowed that, "the tyrants of Republican Rule, (led by Trump & McConnell) shall not prevail, because we have e-mail!"
Write that down!
There will be a test later, and, the winner will get a Snicker's Bar.
I hope it's a Red Neck, they could do with a smile once in a while, Hoss! Man, they are an angry mess!
My point is, my fellow Americans, "We Must Resist, Persists and learn to love Stitches," cause these "Sons-of-Witches" are a mean lot.
Now, fellow Masses of Unwashed Asses, here, is as good as time as any, for READERS to get your TETANUS SHOT because it only gets worse! Or, a shot of liquor, it's quicker!
This is the end of me "Sermon On the Unmount," where those with IQ's above 60 usually drop out!
( Note : If you would like an Audio copy to share with your senile love one send $.50 to Reverend Oral Fleece % (Care of) The Church of How Big Is Your Wallet - How Small Is Your Brain, Mildew, Ohio, where there are no jobs, Not Even Blow Jobs!
Also, on sale at all Hustler Magazine Book stores.
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