Concerned by a sudden, organized influx of homeless people parading through the streets of our little town yesterday — in what I feared to be either a preemptive invasion or a raid on resources — I lobbed three Molotov cocktails into the procession, then, in the ensuing panic, apprehended a handful of the marchers at gunpoint, secreting them off to a small 6’x6’x8′ sound-proofed concrete bunker I spent the last few months quietly installing into a spot of prairie behind our subdivision where I shot the biggest of the bunch in the kneecap to show the others I was serious about uncovering their larcenous aims.
Turns out, though, that, the weather being so nice and all — mid-to-upper 60s yesterday — what I had witnessed was not an attack by sequester-motivated would-be squatters and filthy, vermin-caked vagrants, but rather a charity walk for some or other childhood disease whose name I can’t remember, and whose affects I could barely make out, what with all the screaming and crying from those hysterically shouting the information at me.
Now, lest you think me reckless, let me just note for the record that ordinarily, the fact that all the marchers were wearing ribbons of the same color would have convinced me to stand down and maybe engage in further intelligence gathering and reconnaissance before going on the offensive with a kind of homemade napalm sneak attack. However, the President, the DOD, and the Transportation Secretary, and the Colorado assembly have me a bit spooked of late — itchy on the self-preservation trigger, if you will — and frankly, I long ago determined that if I’m going to be overrun by desperate bums or furloughed teachers or gaggles of suddenly-neglected autistic children out to pilfer my stash of bottled water or Pop Chips or jerky beef, it isn’t going to happen without my having tried to fry a few of those fuckers for their troubles first.
— Which is a principled — and I believe laudable — posture, under most circumstances. In fact, it’s a posture born of bravery that works quite well as a kind of cold comfort in the most trying of times– that is, right up until the moment when you realize you’ve just fragged, burned, shot, and tortured a bunch of people who, by taking a nice leisurely stroll through the town’s main square on an unseasonably warm Sunday afternoon, were merely raising money for sick children.
So, then. That being life under sequester day 3, life under sequester, day 4 — today — has me doing a little bit of hiding out in a makeshift lean-to I’ve set up and camouflaged in the foothills. Fortunately, it’s snowing right now. And I’m not sure the tracking dogs are permitted to work in these conditions, their being unionized and all, and therefore immune from the affects of all the draconian cuts to government that are threatening to bring about a civil war.
There’s a certain irony to that, I don’t mind admitting — one I happen to find oddly comforting.
Plus: no need to fill out those annoying “knee-capping report” forms.
No jury would convict. Hobophobia is a recognised condition.
Matching ribbons could easily be confused for a uniform. Could have happened to anybody.
Probably fucked up your chances of getting a job here, though. Apparently the sequester isn’t severe enough to inhibit the creation of another Cabinet level department.
http://www.govtrack.us/congress/bills/113/hr808/text
Make sure you don’t have anything in your mouth before you click on that link, and don’t actually read any of the text if you are in a position were loud expletives and outbursts of laughter may be undisirable.
Sounds a little like the opening of “The Wild Bunch” which was set in the first Progressive President’s era.
Ah, Ms. Lee (CPUSA).
Imagine there are no communists, it’s easy if you try.
Ms. Lee’s proposal deserves to be round filed as duplicative.
*gavel* Next order of business.
this day in history 100 years ago
proggtardia begins: woody wilson sworn in
Ms. Lee forgot to include language prohibiting the “real” cabinet departments from picking on the peacebuilders.
“Why do you keep hitting yourself, Mr. Nonviolent? You should stop hitting yourself — it isn’t peaceful. Whatcha gonna do? Ask me even more nicely to stop? Go tattle to Sheriff Joe? Aw, is Mr. Nonviolent gonna cry?”
have me a bit spooked of late
Racist.
That’s “have me a bit MI-5ed of late”
A day that truly should go down in infamy.
Imagine there are no communists, it’s easy if you try.
Hard when you’re swimming in the bastards.
These are dangerous times in this post-sequester era. The bastards should have known better.
I hope you didn’t release them.
Assuming you didn’t release them, you’re in the perfect position to pursue the “Biden method.” Just start shooting through the door with a shotgun.
Kneecapping the bum was a nice touch. Old school, Jack Bauer style.
I hear that the Federal Pissing on My Back and Telling Me That It’s Raining Commission had to let a couple of people go. It’s a tragedy I tell ya.
Breaking: MO Dept. of Revenue Working With DHS on Backdoor Gun Registration
“have me a bit spooked of late”
“Racist.”
So the undead are a race now? Sigh. ‘Kay.
Spook is another of those traditional racist words you only ever hear in ” Astounding True Tales of Racism(TM) ” and almost never if ever in the wild.
Oh wait. The wild. That’s probably racist too isn’t it? Just like “Fuck you! You said my insurance would get cheaper! Why are my insurance rates going up!?” is racist.
Florida legislature rejects ObamaCare Medicaid expansion
Awesome, nr!
“…you’ve just fragged, shot burned and tortured a bunch of people…”
What does it matter now?
I think Philip Roth wrote an entire book about the racist charge of “spook.”
Heh. OT (perhaps) The proggtards, they get restless.
The phrase “radical conservative” has a certain oxymoronic quality to it.. Emphasis on the ‘moron’.
I’ve seen more than a few extremist moderates. Maybe it’s a thing.