The Dunces of the Confederacy

Light ‘er up says the Prez and by golly they did. A couple hundred thousand of Trump diehard followers broke through Capitol Building’s barriers, door and windows; ran through the place scaring the bejeebers
out of Mitch McConnell while listening to their rebel yells echo off the Rotunda. Such fun hasn’t been had since the British sacked Washington in 1814. To be fair – Trump’s invaders just stole some souvenirs and shat in the Speaker’s chambers. The British burnt the place down.

Of course, the Trumperite invaders took selfies during the whole thing and posted every one of them on Twitter. They didn’t put it together – commit a crime, shoot a picture of yourself doing it, then publishing the thing online. What could go wrong – their local police couldn’t spell Twitter? Who’d think the Washington police or Feds knew such a thing existed?

Dunces of the Confederacy. OK – they weren’t all from the South but most were assuming you count Texas, Kentucky and West Virginia as part of the South. There were some lost souls from Canada too, which perplexed the Dunces but – as long as they drank Budweiser – they were just dandy. Plus, nobody ever accused Canadians of illegally voting in Georgia.

People blamed the Prez for riling everybody up. His apologizers point out he was long gone before the rioting began but they miss the point – The Dunces are called Dunces because they are not smart. IQ test everyone arrested on Wednesday and you’ll find each one falls on the left-hand side of the Stanford-Binet curve. Yes, they knew right from wrong but if the Prez says wrong is right and right is wrong – well you can see how they could confuse the two.

Added to Dunces’ brain strain was the mix of God and alcohol. Remember all the Proud Baby gatherings during the Black Live Matter protests? Sometime during the stomping and yelling, all the Babies would pause, suck down a beer and kneel as their leaders called on God to bring His righteous fury upon Blacks and their misled White friends. A touching devotion to be sure, revealing the Babies skill of balancing cans of beer on bended knee with hands raised to the Lord.

And there they were on January 6th, Babies and Dunces crowded together in the Ellipse, heads bowed in prayer conflating Jesus Christ, patriotism and Budweiser. Don’t get me wrong – alcohol and Jesus go back to when the Savior turned water into wine. The Man liked a nip of the grape; He and the disciples never begrudge anyone for fueling up before a little mayhem. Shoot, the disciples got so snockered at the last supper, most of them were passed out in the Gethsemane Garden when the Roman soldiers came to round ’em up. Fighting for Jesus with a buzz is a hallowed Christian tradition. But still, fire up four hundred thousand goofballs with lots of Bud (schnapps for the Canucks) and ravings from a dozen Evangelical clerics – well you got a lot of shit looking to blow.

Then comes the crazy Prez. “Go get those motherfuckers in Congress”, sez he. And the motherfuckers just happen to be holding sessions that very instant in the building in front of the crowd. The Dunces explode. The President walks away of course. He’s the genius, if he says so himself.


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