As proem, please. I don’t want to redline the paranoia meter or feign artificial newsletter horror over that which is anything but . . . but . . . something very bizarre has happened to what I was led to understand and believe in my heart was the Democratic Party. It’s apparently been commandeered by a group of demented degenerate AltLeft loons force-feeding a lethal dose of utter and inexplicably obvious delirium bilge. Industrial strength dreck. Think Chernobyl grade thought poison. Glow in the dark style. Dig? And no, I’m not necessarily talking about ANTIFA (though I will instanter). Chronic storm trooper jackbooted thug wannabes are easy to identify, discuss, target and analyze. Rather, I’m talking something far more dangerous and insidious — the run-of-the-mill FauxProg, the synthetic liber-old, the artificial progressive. The central casting man-bunned cloth-bagged face-tatted and studded Potemkin village lib. Along with his panguts elders, the balding tenterbellied bald louts who insist upon the government-issue ponytail, harkening back to the halcyon peace and love days of yore. These are the enemy. These are the targets of my wrath. They will pay. They will answer.
DemoRat MasterDebaters. Now I suspect your first take is that I’m being a bit melodramatic and a tad over-the-top. Not even close, Sparky. Not for a minute. With the exception of Tulsi Gabbard, who actually presents a platform that’s mildly reminiscent of what used to be considered prototypical and classical liberal and progressive political thought [ANTIWAR!] — I defy anyone with a pair of functioning neurons to remotely explain to me what this score of wannabes has in store and in mind for our beloved republic. Anyone, please, tell me. It seems that based on the clusterfeck debate mosh pit cavalcade menu, there’s an overabundance of concern over the constantly-evolving myth called climate change and its pesky little brother, global warming. They can’t exactly state what it is that’s changing or warming or what’s anthropogenic or not the result of that damn Sun thing and weather thingamajig or the vicissitudes and frequencies that inspire the rabid rote and impassioned ululations of a science-berefet band of cocksure blateroons and dime store climatologists. But wait, there’s more.
The birds and the bees have suffered Colony Collapse Disorder and Avian Flu. There are the bastions and bands of battologists who apparently aren’t too keen on the notion of anything binary, viz. genders, sextyping, pudenda morphology or combinations thereof. I haven’t the foggiest idea of what these folks even want: At first they were merely keen on destroying the notion of the public restroom that differentiated genders. Oh, this was a big deal. Then such genetic luminaries such as, er, this guy, came up with epic doozies. Dig.
I don’t believe only in reproductive freedom, I believe in reproductive justice. And what [that] means is just because a woman, or let’s also not forget someone in the trans community — a trans female— is poor, doesn’t mean they shouldn’t exercise that right to choose. So I absolutely would cover that right to have an abortion.” — Julián Castro, tinhorn Dem, ostensibly in the midst of a cognition fugue. [ES]
None dare correct the lunacy. This guy had me going for a few days. Oh, I’m sorry. I mean they. Or zhim.Or something. You know, that feller. He actually stood before a group of (I would imagine) reasonably intelligent people with adequate levels of abecedarian schooling and argued for the right of men to have a fetus plucked from their uterus. Swear to God. And here’s the best part, none of the NBC marionettes corrected this poor man (I believe) or were so much as taken aback by his new and novel reconfiguration of reproductive paradigms. No, it was that good. That incredible. That monumentally gonzo, bonzo and cosmic.
“Anyway, my time is up. I’m sorry.”Then the moment that will forever be chronicled in American history. Joe Biden announcing his time’s up and that he’s history. As some of the kids on the Internet(s) called that, it was a classic SELF-OWN. Hoist by his own petard. Or as we say in West Tampa, he stepped on his . . . you know. Classic, tragic, historic. A politician maintaining a hyper-punctilious focus on the rules as to time to speak. Kirsten Gillibrand was hogging the mic to the point she had to be restrained and sedated by dart-wielding mental health personnel. Everyone was veering into the others’ lanes, incredibly and with virtually no surcease. But not our Sleepy Joe. Nope, not the Creepster. No way, Jose, and no siree, Bob. Ol’ Joe just attempted to squeak out a few words of something and then politely thought against it, bowing out and moving over to the pit crew. ‘Twas epic and seemingly unbelievable but it happened. I saw it. But, friend, the master debaters were in all their glory. One boneheaded cretin and Boeotian after another force-feeding the prepared GOTCHA! line and riposte and comeback, avoiding at all cost the dread esprit d’escalieri or trepverter. And you’ll have to wait until July for a round two of the two-rounders and I for one can’t wait.
NYC fêtes LGGBDTTTIQQAAPP Pride. In a spirit of universality and colossal inclusion NYC celebrated legions of Lesbian, Gay, Genderqueer, Bisexual, Demisexual, Transgender, Transsexual, Twospirit, Intersex, Queer, Questioning, Asexual, Allies, Pansexual and Polyamorous revelers and parade enthusiasts this weekend for an event that rocked the house. Note to reader: Nowhere is heterosexualso much as whispered. Not a tip of the hat, acknowledgment, recognition. Nada. Niente. Nihil.Zip. But good news for demimondes, fans of demitasse, the demiurge and Demi Moore, Demisexuals have been counted. Discuss.
Meanwhile.Trump’s laughing his ass off.
Valedictory.It’s actually a simple thought, but what will the TDS-afflicted and infected do when Trump wins round two of the elections and then says adios thereafter? Will they have crafted a cogent message, platform or worldview by then? I seriously doubt it. Seriously.
Onward, patriot!
Mark Your Calendar! LIONEL AT THE CUTTING ROOM. SOUND THE KLAXON! October 5, 2019. Mark your calendars. Lionel returns to and storms the stage of New York’s heralded and lauded and world-famous Cutting Room for an evening of (out)spoken word and bluegrass. This is not standup. This is not your father’s comedy. This is brutal, piquant commentary and analysis. Hie! You know the drill, patriots. Operators are standing by. Here, click!
Please watch this critical message.Truckers Against Trafficking (TAT): True Heroes Saving Lives, Making A Differenceis the latest installment from my wife Lynn Shawinterviewing Kylla Lanier, Deputy Director and Co-Founder of Truckers Against Trafficking(TAT). The goal of this brave organization is to work hand-in-hand with the trucking and bus industry to identify, discover and disrupt human trafficking. Listen to Kylla and learn of TAT’s genesis and how this lifesaving organization is expanding and educating internationally. Learn how she and her family began this incredible organization and what’s in store and in development. Please listen and make a commitment through self-education and raising awareness. You can start by forwarding this interview on your social media platforms. The goal is simple: to destroy the networks of human trafficking that for far too long have been ignored.
Antisocial media. Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, the Lionel Media website and browse the merch and marketing at the Official Lionel Nation Gear Store and above all, the Lionel Nation YouTube Channel where we engage in immersive, totally interactive live stream broadcasts twice daily. It leaves antediluvian talk radio in the dust. Where it shall remain.