Making Amerika Great One Swastika at a Time

By Aunt Beulah

Aunt Beulah is a former comatose pseudonym who woke from her slumber when the country lobbed a grenade through her nursing home window.

Is it not refreshing to see America and its citizens finally paving The Path to the Moral High Ground? It’s about time we jumped on High Horse and galloped over the Constitution of the United States of America. Just between you and me, I feel the US Constitution and Bill of Rights, not to mention the Declaration of Independence, are pretty lame. After all, the Founding Fathers of this country couldn’t even be bothered to establish a State religion or mention Christianity at all in any of these documents. I’m almost positive that was an oversight, although I can’t be sure as I wasn’t there and there was no Twitter. Perhaps they were sidetracked while separating church from state and couldn’t find their way back to the pew to ask for guidance. Damn Deists. Horrifying Humanists. Sensible Secularists.  What were they thinking by leaving the construal of those documents to the commoners?!

I, for one, think we owe white nationalist groups, evangelicals and self-abused women a debt of gratitude for electing someone as our president with the fortitude to bypass the governing documents of this country so he can make America great again. Someone like Donald Trump. Or Donald Trump. His thin skin, tiny tweeting fingers, and keen grasp on reality was instrumental in illuminating the malignant tumor of hate festering under our noses in the dank swamp of America’s fringe. Putrefying long before political correctness drove it underground, that oozing tumor popped to the surface like a pus pocket, spraying the country with a sickly yellow infection that turned half of this country into a cesspool of hate-filled cholera. What a relief that the tumor is free at last. Now we can get on with bleaching the country.

Did I mention that a Big Thanks also goes out to those who “voted their conscience”? Not sure what lurks in the gray matter above those brain stems but their moral compasses tossed them Through the Looking Glass into the clutches of the charlatan Red King. At least they can bury the Bill of Rights with their scruples intact so all is right in their world. Without actually checking the Trump box on the ballot, they guaranteed their conservative values would remain mired in the medieval bogs of millennials past but can say without blinking, “Don’t look at me! I didn’t vote for him!”

Lastly, kudos to those who sat out the election in their living rooms watching The Price is Right or Let’s Make a Deal or Who Wants to Be a Millionaire, because they didn’t like either candidate, or any candidate for that matter. They all had at least one dog in the fight but won’t realize it until the canine crawls bleeding onto the porch and dies at their feet. Guess what, you lost your right to lament the state of the country from this point forward so don’t even go there. Stick your head in the cat box and think about what you’ve done.

On a particularly low note, with the KKK on the loose again we should give serious consideration to repealing every civil rights act back to1866 beginning with 1964 and the Fair Housing Act of 1968. The Republican power is there. Hell, we chose the right man for the job – Donald Trump has a 43-year head start in that arena (forgive my language, ladies. I don’t mean to make you swoon. You’ve probably run out of smelling salts by now what with the ribald, raucous rallies that swirled around The Elected One. But you shall overcome. Or be overcome by grabbing, trolling, vicious, self-entitled narcissists.)

I wonder… did we choose to erase fifty years of progress due to food additives? Or mind-numbing drugs? Perhaps we are simply waxing nostalgic and long for the Sundays when we packed our picnic baskets anticipating a bit of entertainment after church.  Still dressed in our Sunday best, we strolled to the town square to watch the torture and lynching of blacks while we ate lunch under the trees. The number of sub-humans and inferiors to choose from has grown exponentially to include all people of color and religious affiliations so there will be years of fun to be had after Sunday worship.

On Liberty Island stands a statue. Perhaps you know of it or have actually visited the site. Written on a bronze plaque attached to the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty is a sonnet by Emma Lazarus titled, “The New Colossus”. A section of the sonnet reads:

                      Give me your tired, your poor,

                        Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

                        The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

                        Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:

                        I lift my lamp beside the golden door. 

 

With the current climate of this country being what it is we should add a caveat: As long as “these” are white Christians and speak English, preferably without an accent (forgive me First Lady Elect). On a side note, Emma Lazarus was a New York City-born Jew, and a woman, from an immigrant family with roots in America that predate the American Revolution.

 

All of that being said, I congratulate us all for putting our best foot forward as the country aspiring to lead the free world with what we like to label as our Christian ideals. Way to trip and fall off the Plane of Values. This country, America, land of the free and home of the brave, was once a shining beacon to the world with a “lamp beside the golden door”. Wait, what do you mean no one can see the beacon through the fog of hate? Is the light on? Oh, Martin Luther King-on-a-tree-branch. Who forgot the match?

 

On Tigers, Hookers and Hypocrites

The media circus surrounding the 2010 Masters Golf Tournament ended Sunday when Phil Mickelson pulled away from the field to don the coveted Green Jacket of Augusta National. As golf tournaments go, it was a great show. But as usual, the media tried to hype everything surrounding the event from Mickelson’s family travails with breast cancer to the resurgence of the aged Viagra sect of the field, i.e., the old men in contention, Fred Couples and Tom Watson (at the ancient age of sixty actually still walking upright).

The main event involved the repentant Tiger Woods who has spent most of his time in the rough over the past six months. Tiger erred in his personal life. No one can argue that. But in what is supposedly one of the greatest events in sports, the media couldn’t focus on the competition without constantly alluding to Tiger’s past boudoirdic sins.

It’s time to get over it, give the poor guy a break and realize he’s one of the sport’s greatest athletes of all time and a real and flawed human being just like the rest of us. I don’t condone his past behavior, but that’s his personal life. He’s a figure on the world stage because of his golf skills. Let him be human.

The Sad Crucifixion of Tiger Woods

By the time you read this, the “true” story of what happened with Tiger Woods will probably be public.  “True” that is, if you consider the story as filtered by Tiger’s team of pugnacious, flesh eating attorneys and white washed by his slick talking word meisters from his public relations people.

Who can deny the circumstances appear suspicious.  After all, Tiger banged a fire hydrant and a tree right in front of his own house in the middle of the night.  Elin Woods, Tiger’s wife, apparently was awake in the middle of the night, heard the crash and ran down the driveway with a four iron in hand and smashed the rear window of the Cadillac SUV to drag Tiger’s body out of the vehicle.  This in of itself doesn’t seem to be the proper way to administer medical treatment.  You don’t suppose the four iron shots were taken before the vehicle left the driveway?  You don’t suppose they were feuding?

Et Tu New York Times?

It probably won’t come as a surprise that I’m a regular reader of the New York Times. Some conservatives believe it leans a touch too far to the liberal side. Perhaps it does. Some of our faux-patriots believe it’s a communist rag, but most members of that set don’t read the Times (or much else for that matter). I find it generally balanced, well researched and well written. But even the New York Times isn’t immune from my contempt for irresponsible reporting.

The headline on an article in this morning’s edition read, “Shortage of Vaccine Poses Political Test for Obama”. Oh, come on. I expect better from the Times.

President Harry Truman once proclaimed, “The buck stops here,” but let’s be realistic. The President of the United States is not personally responsible for every pissy little happening in a society of 300 million people. How did the drug manufacturer’s inability or unwillingness to meet deadlines they’d given to government officials get to be Obama’s problem?

There’s a Fly in the Ointment

Let’s talk flies. May as well. It appears we have nothing better to do in the Capital, across the country, in the blogosphere, or through the media. Certainly swatting flies is more exciting than listening to 19 senators asking the same questions, duplicating matching diatribes, or harping on inconsequential matters in the confirmation hearing for Judge Sonia Sotomayor. Smoke and mirrors with the Wizard of Oz behind the curtain would likely sum up a process that was essentially nonexistent until 1955. Perhaps it should have stayed that way. Watching paint dry would be more stimulating and less time consuming. I certainly would not want to be a fly on that wall.

Or apparently any wall in the vicinity of our President. I can appreciate President Obama’s irritation with the annoying fly in question as he sat through a lengthy CNBC interview while the pest buzzed around his head. For PETA to take him to task for what it termed the execution of the “smallest and least sympathetic animals” was almost as entertaining as watching Vice President Dick Cheney defend the former administration’s policy on torture and terror. I know that administration terrified me. And it was torture listening to Mr. Cheney talk out of both sides of his mouth.

The Media Circus is Back in Town

A Florida couple was murdered. Their family and friends mourn. Byrd and Melanie Billings were found shot to death in the bedroom of their Beulah, Florida home. Inarguably, it was an outrageous act of perversion. As if the sickness of the crime isn’t adequate in of itself, the media has turned it into a cross between a TV melodrama and a reality show. The true sickness is in the media’s willingness to turn the event into circus proportions and in the American public’s willingness and anxiousness to gobble up every gory detail.

The most egregious instances of the media peddling the disgusting details come from the tabloidal networks masquerading as “news” channels. Not surprisingly, the drivel mongers at FOX News lead the way. I had the ill-fortune of having lunch where FOX was broadcast as if the food wasn’t bad enough already. As I ate, I watched as “Urgent Update” followed “Breaking News” with all the nonsense the dirt hounds could dig up. Based on the extent of the coverage, one could easily have been convinced they were watching the aftermath of the assassination of a major world leader. Michael Jackson was known all over the world. This coverage rivaled Jackson’s and who knew the Billings family outside of Beulah, Florida?

Waiting

I find it fascinating that the minority members of Congress and Mr. Cheney sit on their keisters, but stand on their soap boxes, waiting for the country to go down in flames. Perhaps hoping is a better word – hoping the country goes down in flames. They give lip service to solutions but those solutions are nothing new or recycled at best. These representatives offer sharp criticism over everything from healthcare to terrorism to Supreme Court Justice Nominees using half-truths, anonymous opinions and rumors they have mined from the vast stores of media misinformation and unchecked facts and sources. Some even plant their own seeds of propaganda, cultivating them until they climb over the wall like kudzu on a hot, humid summer day. What ease our Electeds find in perpetuating myths and spinning the facts until the facts are dizzy and seasick. It takes little effort to then throw those centrifuged, reconstituted and mutated tidbits into the media waters like chum, waiting in gleeful anticipation for the shark feeding frenzy that surely will come. Sensationalism, after all, plays to Madison Avenue like a Siren’ song to a drunken Greek Sailor.