Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll has been inspired by the Democrats. She announces her HOMECOMING LAWSUIT. She writes:

In these dark and terrifying days of a Literal Hitler in the Oval Office (who wears a yarmulke when he visits the Western Wall in Jerusalem, the eternal capital of the Jewish people and soon to be the home of the DJT American Embassy, Hotel, and Casino), one has to take inspiration where one can find it.

And I have been greatly inspired by the Democrat Party’s Losing Loser Lawsuit, filed in a loser-ly fashion more than a year after the 2016 election. Which Hillary lost.

It may shock regular readers to learn that I was not elected as Homecoming Queen in my senior year of high school. Spurred on by the courageous if clinically insane example of the Perez/Ellison DNC Lawsuit, I am suing every member of my class. Also included are the School Board (most of whose members are now technically, deceased), and – but, of course! — the Russians, who I hope don’t actually show up in court like they did with Moronic Mueller’s Magical, Mystical Inquisition, Indictment and Fishing Trip. (Could anything be funnier on this earth? Except the PROSECUTION asserting that the Russkies weren’t served properly and should go home for three weeks while they, their Inquisitors, get it right? Oh Lord, parody is dead…but we must try to carry on.)

The year in which my tragic miscarriage of electoral justice occurred would be 1964. Ah, I hear you say, isn’t that, uh, kind of a LONG time ago? Shouldn’t you maybe be over it by now? Nonsense! Why, just the other day I read on the Internet that a woman has come forward to say that Tom Brokaw kissed her once on a couch fifty years ago. FIFTY YEARS AGO. Yay! She gets to be a member of the #MeToo Club.

Speaking of unspeakable assault, I am filing an additional posthumous lawsuit against Eustis Q. Bloominfarter, (not his real name, and also dead), for snapping my bra in the hallway in 7th grade. This was a common thing that adolescent idiot boys (but I repeat myself) used to do to us few young ladies who had reached puberty earlier than some of our other classmates. Decades of therapy have helped me get over the trauma. Of having to beat the crap out of him. Seventh grade was the last year before The Great Testosterone Advantage kicked in when it was still possible for a righteous 75-lb. girl to beat up an annoying boy.

My lawsuit for the Stolen Homecoming Election may not be as persuasive as the Democrat Party’s Loser Lawsuit. I mean, at least Hillary was on the ballot.

Which I was not.

But without the Russian interference, I’m sure there could have been a vigorous write-in campaign for me. I am also suing the Episcopal Church for transferring the minister father of my two best friends from Alexandria to Edina right before our senior year. With those two votes, and the massive influence as Thought Leaders that the twins wielded, the whole outcome might have been different.

Had Hillary not been a Losing Loser, the “fundamental transformation” of America would have been well into its tenth year instead of dead in the water. Known primarily for her zany madcap pratfalls, Hillary would have put the “fun” back in “fundamental” transformation! Open borders, Australian-style gun grabbing, taxes raised, coal killed, oil production outsourced, Louis Farrakhan as UN Ambassador, Loretta “Tarmac” Lynch as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, regulations increased, Oh, my! The differences would have been yuge. But what about the differences in MY life, hmmm?

Instead of being a happily married wife and mother and retired comedienne, living in a modest but very comfortable house in a Dusty Little Village with wonderful friends and neighbors, I could have been all that AND a former Homecoming Queen. Maybe I would have even got to keep the tiara. That’s how different my life would have been!

So, you can see why I would want a second bite at that apple. Let’s review the facts:

There were three young ladies on the Homecoming Queen ballot, each of them plenty cute, Boy Howdy! One of the sweetest, nicest, smartest girls, named Carole, won. She was also really pretty then and, sad to report, has changed very little since. I’m hoping we can have lunch before or after her deposition, if she doesn’t take it too personally.

In 1964, Nikita Krushchev, five foot-three inch snappy dresser and Weight-Watcher drop-out, was the recently deposed Head Honcho of the Soviet Union. He had given a peculiar speech to the Comintern in which he asserted that “half of my opponent’s supporters are nothing but a Basket of Rotten Turnips who support Stalinism, Imperialism, Capitalism, and the Right to Rent a Studio Apartment with Fewer than 15 People In It.”

While the average Russian citizen wondered aloud where to find the line for the rotten turnips, their Communist Commisar overlords nudged Krushchev into retirement with the gentle promise: “We LIKE Stalinism, fattie! Go quietly and we probably won’t kill you.”

Speculation abounded that Nikita had become unhinged from being bitterly disappointed when his much anticipated trip to Disneyland during his state visit in 1959 had to be canceled for security reasons. Looking for a way to exact revenge, he obviously selected a random teenage American Grrrll, plotted for five years, and then purchased $12.95 worth of Facebook ads, no wait, there WAS no Facebook yet — just faces and books. No, what I meant to say, he put ads in the mighty and influential local paper, The Park Region Echo, and threw his considerable bulk behind making sure I got no votes for Queen. Not one, not even my own.

I’m pretty sure that was how it happened. Either that, or I failed to visit Wisconsin.