Dr. Faustroll Writes the Wrongs

You know, sometimes people stop drinking the Koolaid before it’s too late, which is why I survived Jonestown after three or four cups. Of course, I thought everyone else was there to party hearty and get down with their bad selves. How was I to know how few people have even heard of Mithridates, my great-grandfather several dozen times removed?

There I was, trying to find someone to get me another cold one and a snack, and all these amateur evanglicals were rolling around as if convulsing is an artform. If there was ever a singular failure of the liberal viewpoint that was it. Everyone should know they could end up unclaimed in a warehouse and made into pet food. That understanding has always kept me on the balls of my feet.

People should be trained from an early age to combat various toxic attacks upon their immune systems, and I’m not just talking alcohol and hallucinogens. What about industrial solvents or accidental injection of stimulants and opiates? What about thought crime?

I don’t know about you, but I fully intend to live to be 250 years old, armed to the teeth, and fighting off zombie voters trying to get at my stash, so I keep drinking and injecting the poison of my civilization in Aristotelian immoderation.

So I have to chuckle as I watch the bizarre orgasmic spurts of GOP creativity that served them so well before the zombie flu began infecting their constituents. It’s almost as if the Republican Party has recognized that the only honorable thing to do after failing miserably to bring on the rapture or win the never-ending reelection campaign war against rational thought after eight flaccid years of pulling pud and messing up the options on the table — well, the only realistic option left is to kill itself, but it lacks the thing behind the codpiece required to do so, so it is asking the rest of us to use our second amendment rights to put it out of its misery.

What other reason can explain this lame attempt to equate Demoblican Big Mama Nano a Mano with a villainous James Bond squeeze?

As David Alan Grier might have said before having his irreverent black ass kicked off Comedy Central for having the bad taste to mention that Biraq Obama is not really a black man: Misrepublicreants! Have you lost your damn minds?

As if this question shouldn’t have been asked 70 years ago. And as if it weren’t irrelevant, like the party itself.

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