If you rationalize the abject promotion of virus spread by jamming 20,000 adoring fans into a giant tuna can to “rally” by noting that some liberal bastards aren’t denouncing the transmission of the coronavirus by demonstrators as vigorously as the ego-driven “rallies,” you might be a Retrumplican.
But there is no similarity, and it’s still not self-evident to the Retrumplicans that all men are created equal.
The oppression of Black people in this country has occurred on an unbroken continuum going back centuries. Society is trying to get better. The movement isn’t going to stop. Individuals who feel compelled to take to the streets can’t wait for perfect conditions to protest systemic racism. Most people get it to some extent.
For those that don’t get it — and are proud to admit it — the history of Black America is out there. If you really want to partially understand, I mean.
None but a sliver of Black history was acknowledged in the textbooks of my youth, and I haven’t heard of any great leaps toward more facts?
But all of the recorded events are now out there in libraries, bookstores and the internet. By the ton.
And all of the documentation can be found in the nonstatue form and free of sticky Aunt Jemima syrup on the pages. No one is to blame for your historical ignorance but you.
On the other hand, Trump’s hootenannies are of zero value to mankind and cost real money to the city’s that Team Trump picks to be the next virus “superspreader.”
The generic Trump rally features a niche comedian playing a very slow dangerous game of peekaboo with the Base.
“I can’t see a virus. Can you see a virus? Did you sign the waiver? Chuck all masks and bras into the fire and shut your blue eyes, Patriots. I guess the virus is defeated. Only I, Donald Trump, could have powerfully squelched the plague using only my finely tuned instincts. Science is overrated.”
Trump lies so fast the barrel overheats, the crowd cheers.
“We need less testing I’m telling you.”
Huzzah!
“Antifa thugs are coming for you real Americans — at least the Nazi’s, now that the kneeling radical leftists have made it into a dirty word, the scum. Our military bases will remain named for traitors on my watch, Juneteeth will forever be known as Trump Day. That’s right, I made it famous. Someone once said that Jack Ruby would be a nobody if not for Lee Harvey Oswald’s poor immune system and thin skin like crazy Nancy. Think about that. A loser.
“I have neither done nor said anything that the media reports. Even the recordings of this love fest will be altered by the fake media to further their narrative just to hate me at all costs and I’ve never even been here.
“They think we are ignorant? Us? We know the truth! Dementia will be the end of the country as we know it. I’m the first one to notice that mental acuity and knowledge were important to being president. What happened after I discovered this news? You’ve got me? Cruz probably buried the blockbuster report in the backyard close to his wife’s house. Woof. Where was I? It’ll come to me. Anyway, it’ll be fantastic.
“Now, I’m going to announce that Mabel Geeeeee — we think that might be a typo — Mabel Geeeeee is from a rural village in North Dakota called East of Napoleon. And then go up. I have some loyal ass weasels in that state. Don’t bring in a warthog when what you need is a talking weasel. I coined that phrase. Anyhoo, Mabel won the Trump Train Talker Challenge and this is her winning Tweet. Interestingly, she seems to know about Juneteenth before I invented it. She wrote: ‘So that commemorates the ending of slavery who this day and age has a slave.’
“Indeed. Protesters, anarchists, agitators, looters and lowlifes, too. I did not have sexual relations in that bunker. I was looking for the remote. Hey, there’s a real American on fire!
“Put him out. Put him out.
“Wow, he went up like a Roman candle. No no, leave the masks off. Smoke is good for you. All of the Cuomo’s can kiss my butt and you can say Merry Christmas for a change. Breath in the unfiltered air and show the world how Trump’s people spit in the face of disease. Using my instincts, I bought the Army new bullets. Protesters and looters sure look alike. Have you noticed that? Even the young DACAs are to be despised and for sure the GTOs that violate my faith. I’ve been treated so unfairly by the enemies of the people and Ted’s wife. She bit me. That’s why we had to shoot chemical weapons and clean coal at the little people. I needed a wide lane to foxtrot across the road — I really did — to put a Bible upside down in the church window.
“We’ve got too much wind. Has anyone ever tried to do anything about it? Who knows? Not until I came along did anyone ride the golden moving staircase and we reacted very quickly. Way faster than Somalia. But the pandemic is over. I’m tired of it and there’s an election to win. Kevin Cramer says I’m a breath of fresh air and authentic for saying something about Finland.”
An so forth for 90 minutes, subtracting factual information from the brains of unwitting Trumplicans. These hootenannies are set up to make Trump feel better about his utter uselessness.
George W. Bush would vigorously exercise outdoors to spike his serotonin levels. Trump needs near-lethal doses of rally juice to mend his malaise since citizens are wearing facemasks just to spite him.
“Well. he’s a hell of a liar. The libs have to admit that much. I like it when he makes fun of shaky disabled people and sexual assault victims. I’m surprised his face isn’t on more money.”
Retrumplicans are surprised by a lot of things.
“I am now going to shoot Eric’s pony and take no responsibility for its death. Oh boy, there he goes down the ramp. Showoff. But can Wally successfully drink a glass of water with his hooves? Not without spilling. We had him tested. Well, hell, I can’t get a clear shot now without taking out a few loyal patriots.
“Take the shot. Take the shot.”
Trump gloats and boasts about imaginary accomplishments and the red hats cheer some more and pop another tab of Hydroclorox. He denigrates individuals and truth and the crowd laughs even though neither has a sense of humor. He’s going to make our toilets flush. Woooo!
Or if you’re Rob Port, the boring Minister of Misinformation at the Fargo Forum, you compare the nonviolent protests in Seattle with Trump’s fence and while readers go “huh?” Rob wonders why transgendered people are catching all of the breaks.
Recently, one of Port’s seven regulars wrote, “Be great if BLM protested Black on Black murders. But I guess greasing rival gang members and drug dealers doesn’t count.” And that is one of the classier racial epithets in the blogger’s comment section.
Retrumplicans inherently know what other people really should be angered about, how they should express it and what those people should be grateful for. It’s spooky.
Then there’s Vatican Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò, who sent a letter to President Trump indicating that he believes that the worldwide street protests are actually a conspiracy by millions to dampen Trump’s chances of re-election. He overheard it in the square with his hypersensitive hearing aids.
Deep state stuff the archbishop explains. And then he wrote, “It will not be surprising if, in a few months, we learn once again that hidden behind these acts of vandalism and violence there are those who hope to profit from the dissolution of the social order so as to build a world without freedom.”
Naturally, the Minot Area District 38 Republicans figure that Father Viganò is on to something and opine that “Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò is seeing what is happening to our world,” over their post of the attending article. Those folks are definitely Retrumplicans struggling to find hope.
Bob Wheeler, R-Underwood, thinks somebody is offended by 50-year-old TV shows and movies, so he’s up to date on his racial history. “George Jefferson, Archie Bunker and Blazing Saddles offend everyone and get it over with! Can’t we all just gang up on Antifa and then go have a beer?”
Wheeler wonders why Gov. Doug Burgum handed the rose to Republicans further away from the fringe.
Rep. Luke Simons, the Paul Revere of barbers in Dickinson, is disturbed that Elmer Fudd has been stripped of his wabbit gun, I guess. I’m not in the cartoon loop. He’s a fully indoctrinated Retrumplican.
Simons has also depicted Burgum as a Tyrannosaurus swallowing a barber whole.
If you know what Luke means, you might be a Retrumplican.
