Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll contemplates HISTORICAL HYSTERIA. She writes:

In 2008, as I have discussed previously, on Election Night, when Indiana (Indiana?!) gave its electoral votes to Obama, I got in my car in Minnesota and drove all the way to Oklahoma just to be in a Red State that hadn’t lost its mind. Bless you, Oklahoma. Not just the state, but every county went for McCain/Palin.

I claimed no special prescience about just how bad this Fundamental Transformer was going to be. I don’t think anybody quite realized what an America-hating Alinskyite he was. It’s just that I had been around the radical movement long enough to know a whole slew (or slough) of these kinds of ignorant, arrogant blowhards of every color and gender. I was not impressed, pants-crease or no, that his sole qualification besides reading well off a Teleprompter was the tan color bestowed upon him by half his gene pool. The half that abandoned him utterly while the icky “typical” white people picked up the pieces and treated him to a life more privileged than most white people who ever lived.

For six months after his Coronation, I could not bear to look at a newspaper, watch TV, or read any political blogs, most of which were still tiptoeing around trying not to get accused of being racist, if not in full thrall to the guy who made Chris Mathews’ leg tingle.

Still, when I would try to avert my eyes while sprinting past the newsstand, I would see Obama’s face on every single magazine: “The First Black President Goes Out for Ice Cream!”; “The First Black President Goes To New York for Date Night!”; “The First Black President Thinks About Buying a Dog!” Followed a considerable time later by, “The First Black President Actually Buys a Dog,” which should have presaged his critical decision-making ability. And eventually, “The First Black President Names Dog Bo After Himself!” The racism inherent in such idiotic breaking news that, yes, African-Americans also like their wives, ice cream, and puppies, was cringe-inducing.

Out to dinner one night shortly after the first mid-term election, the other two couples were all Democrats who were still impressed with Obama. One of the men mentioned what a great speaker he was. And in my secondary role as Professional Party-Spoiler, I blurted, “Name one memorable thing he has ever said.” “Nothing to fear but fear itself”? “Ask not…etc.”? Even “wanted dead or alive?” Dead air, stunned silence. Not one clever turn of phrase came to mind. Not even “If you like your doctor, you can keep your doctor.”

I do not recall if Mr. AG kicked me under the table, but he probably should have. It was, for sure, a lapse of manners. We were guests of the one couple, our excellent real estate agent, but, it had been two, long, nausea-inducing, worshipful years and I just could not keep my mouth shut. And, of course, it was only beginning. (The adulation of Obama. Not my inability to keep my mouth shut, which had been going on since I learned to talk.)

And now, we may be treated to The First Woman President! Oh-Em-Gee! Praise the Lord, and pass the ammunition. Lots of it. While it’s still legal to possess it. Any and all criticism from here on in will be called out as irredeemably sexist, labeled Hate Speech, and dismissed out of hand.

So not very far down the road we could see The First Woman President Buys First Dress! The Portly First Woman President Goes To Diet Frozen Yogurt Shoppe! The Totally-Unsick, Cross-Eyed First Woman President Takes a Header Into a Van with a Bed! The First Woman President Has Date Night with First Gal Pal, Huma! The First Woman President Shrieks the F Word at her Secret Service Bodyguards!

Having failed at rational persuasion in this election, even of some of my dearest friends, I am reduced to issuing curses and making predictions. I have a spotty record with the success of my curses, but I’ll give it my best shot. LBJ did decline to run in 1968, and Yasser Arafat did eventually die. And it does snow everywhere Al Gore goes to talk about global warming.

So here is my Ammo Grrrll curse for November 8: May all women with a brain and not just lady bits vote against this unbearable embarrassment to our gender. May those women who do vote for Hillary never find any shoes in their size on sale. And may any man, of any sexual proclivity, who votes for Hillary never have another erection again as long as he lives, even if he eats little blue pills for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He won’t need it anyway because masculinity is all but illegal already. That’s all I got.

My prediction track record is even worse. I do think Trump will win. But I will add this: if Hillary wins, the left-behind white working class, the beleaguered middle class of every color, will just quietly go back to pulling the wagon full of invaders and freeloaders, cleaning up after themselves at rallies, being called disgusting names by their “betters,” resigned to being represented by the entrenched serial betrayers who make promises they never keep while feathering their own nests. Eventually there will be an explosion, but not soon and maybe not soon enough.

But if The Donald should pull out a miracle, the leftists will lose what’s left of their minds. Apart from the delightful prospect of numerous talent-free stars leaving our shores for good, there will be increased violence and wholesale disruption. The Soros-funded left, Hollywood, the Snowflake Academy, and the media will be in a screeching, howling meltdown heretofore unseen outside of a preschool the day after Hallowe’en candy binges. This whole campaign – with paid rally disrupters, Intolerants for Social Justice, BLM thug attacks on cops, the media with their thumbs, elbows and forearms on the scale – will just be prologue.

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