Thursday, September 10, 2015

Lie of the Crier

Not sure what the hell Mike Huckabee thinks he's going to get out of bandwagoning and orchestrating the small (300 people? really?) pep rally for oft-married, recently converted super-Christian Kim Davis' release from county jail. If he thinks his single-issue preaching to the converted is going to get him so much as a low-level cabinet appointment in a never-gonna-happen Ted Cruz administration, he's even dumber than he sounds trying to defend this sanctimonious dunce.

Are her fifteen minutes up yet already? Again, who gives two shits what a handful of inbred rubes and jokers think about anything? They've already got their minds made up; we know who they'll be voting for next year and for the next ten to twenty years. There's no mystery about places like this. These are people who literally cannot decide whether or not they should be allowed to purchase alcohol. Are they Moooslims, or just stoopid?

The more you look at this freak show, the more realize some common factors (aside from, you know, all those photos are taken by the same bozo for his Twitter feed):  they're all either white and old; white and fat; or white, old, and fat. It's like they decided to have a Biggest Wattle Contest, or maybe there's a farmer's market for artisanal chins and jowls. They probably belly-bounced each other around the field while waiting for the object of their adoration.

Three hundred people at this fuckfest, and I'll bet you my next paycheck that less than a dozen of 'em work more than thirty hours per week. You know how I know this? Because it's a weekday! #feignedlewisblackoutrage

People with jobs actually have shit to do, you see, they don't have time for this meaningless nonsense, except as it drifts out of their teevee sets while they're getting the kids ready for school, themselves ready for work. People who don't do anything have all the time in the world to create or buy ricockulous signs, and waddle down to the fucking jail to wait for this fool to grace them with her holy presence.

Fuck this hypocrite Davis and her Junior Samples husband, with his fuckin' churchin' overawls, hyulk hyulk. Way to play smack into the stereotype, Cletus. Remember that this is husband #2 and #4, but it gets even better. See, Kim Davis got knocked up by the man who would become husband #3, while she was still married to husband #1. Because she's an adulteress, who conveniently seems to have forgotten what the bible had to say about that. She has twins five (5) months after splitting from #1, which even varmints in Sixtoe County know is hinky.

So hubby #2 -- the bubba in his formal Oshkoshes on stage there -- adopts the kids. Whether he knows they ain't his or not is unclear. Does it matter? HE'S GETTIN' SWEET LOVIN', PEOPLE! So anyways, after eight years of wedded overallsbliss, Kim and Joe Davis get dee-vorced, and she marries the guy who knocked her up in the first place while she was married, fourteen years (and two husbands) earlier. That marriage lasts for all of a year, and then a year after that, Miss Thang reconciles with the aforementioned Davis for a fourth tilt at the marry-go-round.

I'm hoping that the estimable Charles P. Pierce is wrong about Davis' rising (if brief) star of fame and jebus-pelf. It is true that evangelicals are the easiest people on the planet to fleece; their propensity to hand the first thick-haired huckster their wallet for some random button-pushing or glossolalic nincompoopery stands out in a world full of rubes and marks.

No doubt back in the early days of internet spam, you received some ludicrous Nigerian prince scam, some such idiocy, and momentarily wondered before deleting it just what sort of mouth-breathing dipshit actually falls for it. Well, these are the dipshits. They will gladly buy anything and everything you're selling, so long as the packaging says that it's guaranteed to annoy libturds.

I think Davis will see some money at first, and yes, maybe even a decent chunk of dough from some vanity publishing house to let them ghost-write "her story" and use it as loss-leader cutout-bin bait for Sarah Palin's next tilt at the tard-mill. (The ironic part of all this, of course, is that most of these chuckle-headed mutants don't or can't read anything more nuanced than the schedule for Duck Dynasty. There's not a handful of these maroons that you'd let sweep your fucking driveway.)

But because Davis appears to be even stupider than Palin (did not know that was possible, but there ya go), it won't last. She just has the one issue, and the one candidate (the Huckster) supporting her, and he's in a statistical dead-heat with the margin of error. She's not articulate, she's not photogenic, and she's not likable. She's a gubmint cog in a broke-ass county in a broke-ass state; a nepotistic functionary who inherited her meaningless, useless set of duties from her mother, and plans to pass it along to her son. She's everything the people who love her claim to hate.

And clearly she's not the sharpest tool in the shed, so she's going to spend whatever advance Regnery gives her on shack repair and a new supply of overalls for Cletus, and she won't know when her new friends are done using her until it's a few months too late. Suddenly Huck's manservant won't put her calls through, and she just gets the endless loop of hold music.

By then the rest of us will have forgotten her. Maybe she keeps her job, maybe they toss her ass just 'cause they're sick of her. Either way, she's still stuck in a county where the per capita annual income is a hair above $17k. I honestly don't know what good (or fun) it would be to have money in a place where the average person makes minimum wage. Might as well move to a third world country and have done with it.

But it's a reminder out there, for all you entrepreneurial types, that there are always more sheep that are more than happy to be fleeced, that will shear themselves and hand you all the wool. You just have to push their librul-punching button, tell them that you are the one to mobilize the troops against the godless heathen immigrant faggot hippies that took their jobs and got their kids hooked on oxycontin and parking-lot blowjobs to pay for their habit.

Since GoFundMe, in the wake of the "persecuted" bakers and such like, have already declared that they won't let Davis or her ilk start up any more crowdfunding grifts, maybe it's time to start one that caters strictly to aggrieved evangelicals. I seriously checked to make sure that wasn't already taken, and of course some enterprising cyber-squatter already has it locked down.

I wish them much success. Much like owning a casino, they almost have to try not to succeed.

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