Thoughts from the ammo line

Ammo Grrrll calls out a few TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE PEOPLE. She writes:

My husband, the famous novelist Max Cossack, has also written several excellent plays and musicals which were produced under his given name, Joseph D. Vass. Thus, it has been our privilege to know some fine stage actors. One actor/director from St. Paul, is, in fact, a dear personal friend. All but a tiny handful of these actors lean left, sometimes far left.

The few actors, writers, and directors who lean conservative have learned to keep their mouths shut if they wish to work. Often mere silence is not enough. One must JOIN in the “Two Minutes – or, in this case, four YEARS — Hate” in order to make a living.

In a column some years ago, I described a phone conversation with a potential client during the George W. Bush years. You remember W – he was Bushitler, following the Hitlers of Ronald Reagan and Richard Nixon before him. We have had more Hitlers than a casting call for Mel Brooks’s The Producers, and somehow our Republic has staggered on.

Anyhow, the phone conversation I discussed was going along in a warm and friendly manner. We were actually to the point of my asking where to send the contract when he requested that I prepare some special material about how horrible Bushitler was. I explained that I tried to avoid politics, which I found only divided my audience and needlessly alienated people. He informed me frostily that such “jokes” would NOT alienate a single person in his group. I would not agree to do it. I also did not get the job. Didn’t need it. Still, it was quite annoying emanating from leftists who have whined for over seventy years about how terribly unjust was the “blacklisting” under McCarthyism.

It is one thing to be an actor on the local scene, even one in such a vibrant theater town – at least pre-riots – as Minneapolis. In the ’80s when I started, there were even more seats PER CAPITA for comedy and theater than in New York or Los Angeles. With more or less constant hustling, maybe getting some commercial or voiceover work on the side, an actor in the Twin Cities could make a respectable living, raise children, buy a home, the whole American Dream. Especially with a spouse with a more stable job.

But, of course, the further you go up the food chain of fame and wealth, the more is at stake. Now there is access to the hottest women, the fastest cars, the stupidest drugs, mansions on the beach or in the Hollywood Hills, private schools for your designer kids, private security guards so you can rail against gun ownership. More money than Scrooge McDuck.

Several people I know who made the great leap to Hollywood changed completely, and not for the better. One standup who shared an apartment with a comic from back home surreptitiously listened to his roommate’s answering machine and stole his auditions. He left insulting messages on Johnny Carson’s voicemail in Jay Leno’s voice. One successful comic returned to Minnesota to tell us that an A-Lister must never “carry anything, open a door for yourself, or drive yourself anywhere.” Yikes! Not for me. Though I would put my best 45-minute set up against any comic’s, I’m not suggesting I would have made it big in that cesspool. But I was not interested in competing for a prize I actively did not want to win.

We live in an almost evenly divided center-right (sometimes, center-left) country. It would be logical that around half of the actors in Hollywood would be conservative. But that is either not the case or only the leftists get all the attention from the leftist media.

Every time I see the wretched tub of goo that is Michael Moore, I think of the gross childhood song that the boys would sing in the lunchroom to drive me from the table: “Great green gobs of greasy, grimy gopher guts.” He has announced to great hilarity that with the President and First Lady suffering from COVID his “thoughts and prayers are with COVID.”

It is not shocking that a “joke” both mocking prayer and wishing death on the President would be repeated by other copycats. These are not, as a general rule, people half as bright as the average farmer, truck driver, or engineer. They have fooled themselves into believing they are smart because much smarter people have written humorous or poignant lines for them to memorize. This came home to me with force when one evening I watched an actress who played a smart woman in her sitcom giggle her way through a painful interview with Johnny Carson. She was a ditz or high and Johnny did not know what to do with her.

It is also hardly surprising that these spoiled, entitled adult children wish death from disease upon someone they hate – Rush, Laura Ingraham, or Trump. Not trusting to disease, they have repeatedly wished that President Trump be murdered – by beheading, stabbing, shooting – even offering to do it themselves. They fantasize about the rape of the First Lady and her son. They mock the First Lady’s accent. They struggle to find ever more naughty words to call women associated with Trump, while accusing conservatives of a #WarOnWomen.

There is no bottom to which they will not sink. Remember, these are people who will do ANYTHING to keep their aging, “lifted” gargoyle faces on the big screen – even watch Harvey Weinstein shower.

I take second place to no one in despising everything Barack Hussein Obama said and did during his eight year “fundamental transformation” of America. But I never wished him dead or ill or asserted, like a moron, that he was “not my President.” He was. My guys lost. I got used to it, and carried on with my life. In fact, my W/L record since 1968 is 5/8. I never once rioted or wore a poorly designed genital hat. I disagreed profoundly with the late Ruth Bader Ginsburg, and wished she would resign from the Court to heal and do no more harm, but I cheered for her valiant, awe-inspiring fight against cancer. Why? Because I am not insane.

The leftist stars in the media and entertainment rooting for the President to die cause normal human beings to recoil in disgust. What, we wonder, could cause such corrosive hatefulness in an individual? Particularly, in one whom this country has rewarded far beyond any obvious merit?

Yet dozens of them issue daily semi-literate expressions of unbridled rage towards President Trump and us, his supporters. Cher, Bette, Barbra, the grotesquely unfunny “comediennes” and late-night frat boys, the harpies of The View, Rob Reiner, the list goes on and on. Oddly, most of these people are in their SEVENTIES, still spewing obscenities. I would not want a one of them for a friend. I would not trust a one of them to hold my purse, keep a confidence, or babysit my children. I would sooner clean Grand Central Station with a toothbrush than spend five minutes in their presence. They are terrible, terrible people.

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