Just look at us now. The first autumnal leaf has still yet to fall, yet everything else has sure flittered away in decay: We, as a country, have willingly agreed to drop down on our knees, prostrate, hands bound behind our backs, and obediently follow our duly elected Master of Idiocracy — without protest, nor even shed a tear for the progressively strident and proud statesmanship stature we once held around the entire world less than a mere year ago.
“You’ve got to pick up every stitch/Mm-hmm, must be the season of the witch.”
Let’s just get rotted jack-o-lantern right to it, shall we? Firstly, what is there even left to say? After all, we’re no longer the world’s greatest democracy; we’re the world’s most atrocious autocracy. The site OfTheBrave.org sums this dire situation up best in its “Peaceful Protest” invitation to take place on October 18th against our False King:
“He has declared war on our Constitution, our rule of law, and our federal courts. He has sought absolute, unchecked power. He has proclaimed the free press to be the ‘enemy of the people.’ He has invented false emergencies to seize powers that he does not have. He has unleashed the military in our cities without our consent. He has sent masked and unidentified men to abduct us. He has undermined vaccines and dismantled the agencies that protect us from plagues, putting American lives at risk. He has abused the power of the presidency to attack and prosecute his political opponents. He has attempted to stifle our speech and silence our dissent. He has exploited his office to enrich himself, his family, and his friends.”
Well, my, dear readers, but that sure pried the last nail out of Dracula’s coffin. Eh, did it not? Hence, prior to what seems the inevitable coming now of nuclear abyss — and whilst the four horsemen still await fresh steed, as the White House’s new 90,000 sq. ft. East Wing Ballroom is being erected — I’ve begun attentively pondering what to dress up as this year for, you know, Halloween.
“When I look out my window/Many sights to see/And when I look out my window/So many people to be/That it’s strange, so strange/Beatniks are out to make it rich/Oh no, must be the season of the witch.”
Consider all the outrageously Halloween-ish monstrosities that our Orangutan L’Orange, The Great Eviscerator, commits every day — in full public view, with barely a whimper of pushback from those excitedly standing in line to be next on his Dexter list. The singular standout that strikes the greatest Psycho chord in me is his new U.S. Mint stunt — replete with the identically-piercing soundtrack employed to accompany naked Janet Leigh clutching the shower curtain — as its rings snap off and her head slowly thuds, dead-eyes-wide-open, atop the Bates’ Motel’s tiled bathroom floor, room #1. Yes, the Great Pumpkin has arisen!
In 1866, Congress passed a law dictating that only the deceased can appear on money. Our first accidental president, Andrew Johnson — if one discounts John Tyler’s Whig ascendancy, following the preternatural demise of William Henry Harrison (and who doesn’t?) — held office at the time. Exceptionally unpopular as Johnson was — he’d escaped impeachment by just one vote — this unfortunate “pretender” sadly saddled with the stigma of having to fill the shoes of Lincoln, who’d been instantly elevated to the firmament of the gods upon his assassination. The presidency of Andrew Johnson, had “DOOMED” written on it from the very start; yet, as reports The New York Times, it “enshrined a tradition that individuals could appear on U.S. currency only posthumously to avoid the appearance of a monarchy.”
And, well, there you go. Uh huh. So much for the law-abiding Emperor Trump.
L’Orange’s new $1 coin bearing his image will be going into circulation next year. “According to draft images of the coin, the ‘heads’ side would feature Mr. Trump’s profile and the ‘tails’ side would depict an image of him standing before the American flag and pumping his fist under the words ‘Fight, Fight, Fight!’
Happy Halloween, kidz! Be safe . . . don’t do anything I would!
—Howard Lewis Russell
Start tooting those horns of plenty, bois! Our pilgrims’ pride is now but only a few weeks away. Feel welcome to send your most deliciously secretive Turkey Day queries to AskHoward@DallasVoice.com.