We were moved by the latest actions of our now woke professional athletes. There was a police shooting in Kenosha Wisconsin and a whole bunch of these Wokesters walked off their respective playground configurations in protest. They were so upset, angry, chagrined or just so woke, that they weren’t going to play their games. What they hoped to achieve by this action we’re not sure. But it must have been something that would push the ball forward. No pun intended. Maybe they were thinking that in the pantheon of social justice, does it really matter who wins these games? Isn’t wokeness more important? With that in mind, we wondered if not playing one game is going to advance their cause, what about not playing two games? How about not playing three or four games? How about they all go home for the season? Maybe next season too? And, the one after that. That’ll fix it.
And, after three months, Old Brains Joe Biden came out of his basement, and announced that rioters, arsonists and looters were not peaceful protesters. You could see Old Brains had been thinking about this for the last three months. His lips were tense and taught, as he read the words off the teleprompter. And, it looked like smoke was coming off the top of his head. But he’s figured it out, after a lot of thought and he’s got it now.
And, someone we know, says he’s slow. C’mon man, he’s way ahead of most of the Mass Hysteria and the Cognoscenti of The Known World, who haven’t figured that out as yet. Or if they do now, it will only be because Old Brains told them so.
And, we kind of feel sorry for the Mass Hysteria, as they want you to believe that these are peaceful protests but then they have to put one of their commentators in front of a burning building, as they mouth “peaceful”. We can see the Mass Hysteria’s conundrum here, as they have to say one thing and show you another. And, they have to do this because more than they love their political narrative, more than they even love a sex scandal and more than they love a pandemic, where they can tell you you’re going to die, they love a fire.
And, even though the fires contradict their narrative, they just can’t help themselves. It must be something in the colors, the reds and the yellows of the ever, curling flames. Maybe something in the possible death and destruction of whatever is burning; a car, someone’s home, a McDonald’s where some reporter got a cold, stale burger or some big building that might come crashing down, if the Fire Department doesn’t get there fast enough. Then again, maybe it’s something about the possible end of it all, Armageddon. But something about a fire to them, well it must look like... victory.
Dicens simile factum est
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