Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll formulates AMMO GRRRLLINSKY’S STRICT NEW RULES FOR “JOURNALISTS.” She notes parenthetically: “(Last week I promised the end of my travelogue. Next week for sure. Meanwhile…)” She writes:

Saul Alinsky famously had his celebrated Rules for Radicals. He was a major destructive jackass and inspiration to such other unpleasant figures as domestic terrorist Bill “Guilty as hell, free as a bird” Ayers, Barack Hussein Obama, twice a terrible President; Hillary Clinton, NOT any kind of President ever; and numerous other America-hating community activists.

That’s a funny word, “activist.” The vast and overwhelmingly majority of “activists” I have known in my long and checkered career were about as “active” as an elderly domestic house cat. “Inert” would be more accurate, except when they were running their mouths.

Which they did at the drop of a hat. Remember, kids, college was a primitive affair back then. We didn’t even have video games except for Pong. For entertainment, we often gathered in someone’s room for what we called a “bull session.” We solved the world’s problems with all the acumen and experience that the average 18-22 year old poli sci or sociology major possesses. But we had to do something for fun. We had no phones on our persons or even in our rooms! Yes, if we got a phone call, the switchboard buzzed our room and we had to run down the hall to the phone booth, bodily remove whoever was idling there, and get the switchboard to send us the call. Then we had to churn our own butter!

We had neither porn nor “sexting.” Since we had no phones or Internet, if we wanted to have even fumbling, inept second-base sex, we had to do it in person – can you imagine? — providing we could find a place. That’s where the expression came from, “women need a reason for sex, men just need a place.” And in the mid-’60s, with strict divisions between Women’s and Men’s Dorms, and large, stern House Mothers, finding a place was not as easy as it sounds. Ah, good times, good times. But, I digress…

I have been thinking quite a lot about the poor abused and maligned bawl-baby journalists. Who, in order to prove they were not biased, bigoted purveyors of leftist GroupThink, had a coordinated attack campaign of 350 op-eds and editorials on the same day. Man, you could not make that up…Well, color ME convinced!

You want to know why journalists are held in esteem in the slot between “stubborn jock itch” and “televised political ads in the week before any election”? Read and learn from Ammogrrrllinsky’s new Rules for Journalists:

One: Any journalist inquiring about someone else’s sex life must be hooked up to a very noisy polygraph machine while doing it. Before any questioning begins, the journalist must be asked, “Have you ever groped, touched, or thought about touching anyone not your lawfully wedded spouse? Remember, 30 years ago counts!” Also, “When in a committed relationship, have you ever had sex with anyone else or tried to?” When the bells, whistles and sirens the lying has set off finally cease, the journalist may interrogate his quarry.

Two: No stripper or hooker, no matter how comely, will be permitted to weigh in on any subject on television. Strippers and hookers do not just have sex for a living. That is only part of it; what they really do is LIE for a living. The strippers get men to buy $2.00 bottles of champagne for $100, and feign an interest in inebriated men until the money runs out. Except for pretend Republican politicians from Arizona and journalists they are perhaps the least trustworthy humans on the planet. They do not have hearts of gold. Jesse Ventura claimed that the hookers at the Bunny Ranch gave him “freebies” because he was just so darn good. (Let me take a minute to compose myself here…Okay…nope, I need another minute…) Jesse: They were lying.

Three: The Party affiliation of each and every politician written about will appear in the first and every subsequent time the politician is referenced. The current system goes like this: “Hilda Hatemonger, R (South Dakota), was arrested yesterday for license tags which had expired a week earlier. Hilda, Republican Congresswoman for 22 years, claimed she had the tags in her Republican purse but had just forgotten to put them on. Hilda is a Republican.” Versus, “Keith Ellison, who is black AND Muslim, is accused by an alt-right blogger of being a fan of gangstas and cop-killers on account of overwhelming evidence to that effect, including pictures. We have no idea whatsoever what party the Honorable Mr. Ellison is a member of, but if we do find out, it will be mentioned soon in paragraph 27, so you might want to stop reading now.”

Four: Likewise, if anyone’s income or net worth is mentioned, then EVERYONE’S income shall be mentioned, including the news-ninnies reading the story. Currently, several news stories will just willy-nilly throw in “billionaire” before or after the President’s name, like it’s a bad thing that he is rich. Let’s let everyone know how astonishingly rich people can get with no discernible skills, work ethic or talent in this terrible country.

Example: “Rachel Maddow, net worth $20 million dollars, will interview Michael Moore (net worth before a recent divorce of $50 million dollars). Mr. Moore believes that his most recent crappy movie will finally bring down billionaire President Donald J. Trump. Unless, of course, Tom Arnold, net worth $30 million (only in America), beats him to the punch. Omarosa, professional ingrate, net worth $3.5 million (what a country!) also promises she has tapes that will bring DJT down. Formerly predicted to bring down billionaire President Trump is Porn Queen Stormy Daniels, net worth a paltry $2 Million (“crumbs” to Nancy Pelosi, net worth just under $200 million dollars).”

Funny, I thought porn would pay a lot more than that. Memo to self: when considering a new career, give a thought to becoming a snotty MSNBC commentator or a rambling, incoherent Speaker of the House rather than A Late, Late Middle-Aged Porn Queen. But, just in case, I am trademarking the names Haboobs Haniels, Blizzard Baniels and Sleety Spaniels.

On a different note: to those commenters on Paul M’s post Tuesday night who mentioned me as a fill-in Arizona Senator appointed by Governor Ducey, let me say that, while I am flattered and grateful for the confidence, you triggered an entire night’s worth of nightmares. And – in case it comes up on a quiz show – it turns out it is flat-out ILLEGAL to punch a fellow Senator in the face. Who knew?

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