The week actually started on Saturday this time. A story surfaced about Michelle Obama, and falling under the spell of the conspiracy theorists, I put my tin foil hat on, poured a scotch, and had at it. I really don’t care if the former First Lady “checks her package,” but the Aerosmith song made the article come alive for me. I could hardly keep my fingers steady for laughing.
From there we moved on to more refined politics, if you can call my stuff that, trying to explain to the LibTards about how the American Public is fed up with their dog and pony show and it just might be time to figure out which restroom to use, and move on. We can’t be concerned with health care, taxes, or illegal immigration. Heck no! We gotta pee and don’t know if we should sit or stand.
Stacking Facts was my effort to draw straight lines from Mandalay Bay. If you think Dealey Plaza was complicated you should listen to Barney Fife over in Vegas try to side step his FBI handlers at a press conference. Press conference. I used the term loosely. From this point forward a meeting where the sheriff reads from a prepared script, and refuses to take questions from the press will be forever known as “putting the Vegas” on the press conference. Where is Alex Jones and his bull horn when you need him?
When those Utah cheerleaders went galavanting down the road screaming, “NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER” I just knew no one should touch THAT story with a ten foot pole . . . so I did! Sent it to all of Bill Mahr’s sites, too. But you know I’m bad. As I weeded through the death threats I did find some open minded discussions, but what else I found inspired the “Trump Card” article.
Remember the Michelle Obama gender question I spoke about earlier? Well, the only thing the left could come back with was an idea that Mrs. Trump had a body double and they worked it folks. If you want to see how conspiracy theories evolve that is a classic example. It caused me to watch all the “Paul is Dead” stuff from the sixties. Wonder what you hear if you played an Obama speech backwards? In that same article the tards were micro-analyzing every comma and breath of a phone call of condolence to a widow who lost her husband in war.
And finally, a long way from Saturday, the Brigham story that broke today. There’s a lot more to this story than I’m letting out, but as we uncover more and more we will let them ponies run. My initial inspiration I owe to a Brigham City detective whom I affectionately call “Barney!” Now, he goes into a house with a CPS caseworker in tow ( What could possibly go wrong?) looking for evidence of an assault on a little girl. He finds a broom (in a broom closet) and a curtain rod which he dubs “weapons!” Tells the woman he’s a mind to check the broom for semen, blood, and brain matter. Had this little blue light to do it, too, just like on TV. Perhaps if he’d have shined that light up his butt he’d have found some semen, but he was distracted by a carload of high school cheerleaders racing by the house screaming, “NIGGER NIGGER NIGGER!” Onward through the fog folks. You can’t make this stuff up!
The Butcher Shop