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Unpopular Ideas

Ramblings and Digressions from out of left field, and beyond....

Location: Piedmont of Virginia, United States

All human history, and just about everything else as well, consists of a never-ending struggle against ignorance.

Sunday, July 09, 2017

Medieval Man

Today we have a situation in which a large segment of the white population has foisted upon the rest of the United States, black, brown, red, and white alike, a 71-year-old self-admitted grabber of women’s genitals.   That segment accomplished that heinous act by strong-arming this man into the supposedly high office of the President of those United States.

I have given this man a name.   His first name is “Tweetybird.”  That applies because he is a total ignoramus who has admitted that he has not read a  book since he was in high school, and that has left him able to communicate  only through the use of a dubious service called “Twitter,” in which messages are limited to a maximum of no more than 140 letters.   And his last name, his surname, his family name is “Rump,” which applies because of the bodily feature that he is most fond of presenting to the world.   Thus his full name is “Tweetybird Rump.”

Another name would be just as fitting.   It is “Tyrannosaurus Rump.”   And in fact that name could be even more apt, because it refers to the thing that his  supporters like most about him: his constant readiness to chew on and to chew out other living beings and to fight.   They will never defend him on the basis of whether or not something is right or wrong.   That means nothing to them.  Instead they sing his praises because so far he has spent the bulk of his time in the Oval Office in fighting – fighting back against his numerous, justified critics, since everyone, even his supporters, know that he has absolutely no business being there. 

  Meanwhile the “Tyrannosaurus” also fits because the policies that he espouses and that he flings wildly about like mud against a water tower reveal a hunger to see the rest of the world dragged back into the period in which he would feel the most comfortable, assuming that his caretakers have told him about it, during their bed time stories – the medieval Dark Ages.


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