Monday, November 05, 2018

Dear Mike

I may call you Mike, may I not, Mr. Vice President?  We have politicians around here who go by Sonny and Buddy, although they have perfectly normal names, so "Mike" seems a little formal.

Anyway, Mikey, sorry I missed you on your brief visit to the Peachtree State last week.  I don't live near Atlanta, but I know they made you feel welcome.  I understand you were put out to get less attention than Oprah, who was here the same day.  You said (I hope this is accurate), "This ain't Hollywood, this is Georgia."  Maybe so, but Georgia is damn glad for the $9.5 billion Hollywood pumped into the state's economy last year, and the jobs it created.  Movie and television folks love our piney woods and elegant architecture and that evocative Spanish moss, which is really neither.  Did you see Midnight In the Garden of Good and Evil?  Probably not, since the story was about those people you think should be killed.  It was filmed right here, and now you can guess where I live.  It's the city General Sherman gave President Lincoln as a Christmas gift in 1864.  Some of us are still chuckling over that.

Why "ain't," Mikey?  Is that how y'all talk up yonder in Indiana?  It's almost as if you're signaling to the people your boss courted when he said, "I love the poorly educated."  I think even they know that this ain't Hollywood, and that in any case Oprah lives in Chicago.  Which is within shouting distance -- I nearly wrote "shooting distance" -- of Indiana.  Or is "Hollywood" code for "sinister Jewish billionaires" or something?  Really, I need to get my code book updated.

I have to tell you that your charisma wasn't much help to Brian Kemp, gubernatorial candidate and serial abuser of power as Secretary of State.   Ol' Brian remains at 46 percent in the polls, dead even  with Stacey Abrams.  (We call him "the schmuck with the truck" because he won the primary by promising to drive around and pick up "illegals" with his truck, which governors can definitely do.)  Kemp had already used his office to purge several million voters from the rolls, lose thousands of registrations sent in by the Democrats, disallow thousands of others because the signatures looked "wrong," close a whole county's worth of polling places until some judge told him to knock it off, and -- well, let's say there are some defective machines that change people's votes.  Since there isn't time for Trump to repeal the Voting Rights Act by executive decree, Kemp decided to accuse the Democrats of trying to hack the election Russian-style.  He wants the FBI to investigate, as if they don't have enough to do.  Some of us think he's anticipating an embarrassing loss tomorrow by pre-emptively yelling "Fraud!"  Ain't that a pisser?  And you should hear the robocalls:

"Years ago the Jews who own the American media saw something in me -- the ability to trick white women into thinking I was like them and to do what I told them to.  Where others see a poor man's Aunt Jemima, I see someone who women can be tricked into voting for.  Especially the fat ones."

Jews, female gullibility, racist stereotypes, fat-shaming -- the only thing missing is the jungle sounds they used against Andrew Gillum and the suggestion that Abrams is a secret Mau-Mau Muslim.  Still only 46 percent.  Well, there's some good ol' Libertarian boy running, so there will almost certainly be a run-off.  What I'm saying is, Mikey, keep the date open and plan on visiting Savannah next time.  I sure would like to have a word with you.

                                                                                      Ol' Buttermilk Sky

PS:  Some folks say you look like the older brother of Roger Stone, who left the farm for the big city and wound up owning a chain of payday-loan stores.  I don't see it myself.


Post a Comment

<< Home