Ammo Grrrll revives an old question: HOW DO YOU SPELL RELIEF?! She writes:
Many years ago, a popular indigestion product featured a television commercial in which the voiceover asked: “How do you spell ‘relief’?” And then, in big bold letters across the screen, plus more voiceover, it answered the question thusly, R-O-L-A-I-D-S. Fair enough.
That commercial was played over and over and over again for several years — to the point that I read an article which claimed that grade school children, when asked how to spell “relief” on a spelling test, spelled it ROLAIDS.
Such is the power of being told massive and repetitive untruths. And perhaps also the power of new-fangled ways to learn to read and spell that do away with phonics? But that is not really the point of this column.
The point of this column is to encourage readers to put their right hands over their hearts, breathe in slowly and deeply, and exhale equally slowly while squealing in delight at the end that, “We really ARE the ones we’ve been waiting for!” – male, female, but mostly male, black, white, straights, gays, renegade Democrats, Latinos, Asians, nearly 50 percent of Jews, a surprising number of Muslims, working class, middle class, a few generous billionaires, and – praise God! – only a handful of celebrities!
Alternatively, you can put on the Dancing Queen video with Tampon Tim Walz prancing about and, unlike poor Tim, dance like nobody’s watching. Because if it isn’t yet Morning In America again, it’s at least shortly before sunrise!
If you are like me, only taller, you now wake up every morning with a smile on your face, lowered blood pressure, and an ability to face the day because DONALD J. TRUMP IS PRESIDENT-ELECT!!! It’s just a joy to be alive. I am RELIEVED beyond my capacity to express adequately.
The Babbling Bigshots and Leftist Losers fought for their perverted notion of Muh Precious Democracy™ but Good Olde Regular Garden-Variety Democracy WON!
With so many elections from my early adulthood on I was reminded of one of those wretched old rolling towel dispensers in public restrooms. Remember those? There would be a filthy, germ-infested wet part and you would take the very edges of that and pull hard and a “brand new clean dry towel” was supposed to roll around. Except when the dispenser had been used to the point that only more dirty towels appeared. And then the only option – and a good one even today when we’ve learned that the blow dryers are no more sanitary – is to just wipe your hands on your jeans and be done with it.
For how long have we been told that nothing really can be done? That no matter how long you tug on that wet dirty towel that a new clean part is nowhere in sight? Nothing can be done about the deficit. Nothing can be done about crime. Nothing can be done about the border or the exponential growth of the Deep State, the metastasizing departments filled with drones who can never be fired because they occupy an entitled slot as a Neurodivergent Lesbian Inuit Who Is Transitioning. Protected by Civil Service AND a Union that even FDR opposed.
One of my favorite parts – besides the melodramatic lamentations of the losers who lost – is the narcissistic competition for who is so important that “they” will be thrown in Donald’s Dank Dungeon first. You’d have to have the proverbial heart of stone not to laugh. Most recently, Bug-Eyed Mimbo Adam Schiff weighed in. Schiff, whose name has become an algorithm-thwarting substitute for dung, is scared that President Trump is going to turn “the military” upon him. Which branch of the military is unclear because the Air Force is already taken, as we shall see below.
A while ago, someone named Chrissy Teigen, allegedly an “influencer” of some magnitude, married to John Legend, who once graced the cover of People Magazine as “The Handsomest Man Alive,” declared that IF DJT were elected, she would surely be singled out for prosecution for treason. Get a grip, girl! First of all, though Mr. Legend is a nice looking man, he is no more handsome than any of a dozen men I know personally, including my own husband as well as former Pinal County Sheriff Marc Lamb.
What brave, revolutionary acts does Chrissy believe she has performed besides dropping a bunch of f-bombs and Hitler references that make her think President Trump is even dimly aware of her existence? To win the title of “Most Wanted,” she will have to beat out Joy Behar herself, who, if memory serves, thought she and other View harridans would be bombed by the United States Air Force on President Trump’s whim! Yes, actually bombed.
Those imaginary bombs dropping, ladies, are your plummeting ratings. Or possibly just embarrassing noises from the boring, prevaricating, slanderous gasbag that is Whoopi Goldberg. Then there’s Fierce Rachel Maddow – hauling in $30M a year for a one-hour program once a week! Quoi? (Hey, I work once a week! MAN, am I bein’ ripped off! Lol.)
Rachel plans to be a self-styled Pirate against the Hitlerian Regime. Well, at least she shows a modicum of self-awareness. Pirates WERE after all, thieves, brigands and, oh yeah, rapists and kidnappers and hence the mandatory PC changes to the offensive Disney ride Pirates of the Caribbean. I can’t wait to see Rachel with a little eye patch and a parrot on her shoulder.
The Internet is forever, Matey, and I have watched at least 50 times, your meltdown in 2016 when you reported that a “Queer Brown Woman” had called you just then to report her terror that Donald Trump had won. Could you please give us an update on whatever became of that Queer Brown Woman? I think you made her up out of whole queer brown cloth, but if not, let’s see how she’s doing.
And could you also ask Carmen Diaz to be on your program to talk about how awful it was that President Trump banned birth control as she claimed in 2016? Maybe locate that embarrassing Jewish writer who was terrified of a plumber coming to his house in New York, who would somehow sniff out that, not only was he Jewish, but that he had voted for Hillary? Run! Run fast! Run far! Take care not to run into the ACTUAL anti-Semites clogging up the streets of New York. Maybe take a keffiyah just to be safe.
The Celebrity Hair-On-Fire Shtick is growing tiresome, kids. But even they cannot bring me down. I am just giddy all the time. Every day calls for a celebration and dear friends in Utah visited and gifted us with their favorite Graeter’s Ice Cream. TWELVE pints! I’m going to go pick one, put an Orange candle in it, and sing “Happy Friday to America.”
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