The Grand Eloquence of Fraud

There’s a rumble in the jungle — you know, the place where all the wild animals live, those who descended from apes and who actually like the idea of having simians as our relations rather than zealots who think their righteous world view is how the rest of us should live — that Paul LePage could be the next Maine governor.

Can it be possible?

So long and thanks for all the salt-water taffy, shall be my reply if he does.

Holy Schopenhauer and his ideas of the crap force. If LePage wins, it will be an invite-only invitation to the state of Maine; gays will be herded together and made to live in communes guarded by the Maine Militia; anybody will be able to carry a gun and shoot anyone who anybody thinks is a threat to anybody’s traditional family of persecuted Christians who are in the minority; free-thinking libertarians will be made to wear big “Ls” and paraded down streets on the Fourth of July as entertainment; pagans and atheists and agnostics (or anyone who isn’t afraid to steal the creative fire from a god and use it for themselves) will be made to stay indoors on Sundays until they repent or go mad and then be declared saints. And unless you can prove that your ancestor killed Indians, the British, the French, raccoons, and all other members of the evil axis, you will be kicked out to live in purgatory in some more socialist state like England.

Heaven help us. The horseman of the political apocalypse is riding our way.

I’m sore and tired from this same old saddle of politics that’s strapped to my back.

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