NOW A “DOMESTIC TERRORIST”
by OPOVV, ©2016
(Jan. 4, 2016) — “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight’s show may be a little out of the ordinary, but we’ll go along and see what we can learn. We’re in the kitchen of Mr. and Mrs. McKay, who called me about a half hour ago in near hysterics and told me to be at their house, so here we are, out in one of our suburbs. Let’s learn what the commotion is all about.
“Let’s start with you, Mr. McKay. What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you what’s going on. We pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store and the first bumper sticker I see as we’re walking in is ‘A Woman’s Place is in the White House,’ along with a ‘HILLARY FOR PRESIDENT.’ So, you tell me, what am I supposed to do? What’s waiting for me inside that grocery store?
“Tell you what: somebody in that store is either a flaming Muslim, a flaming liberal or a flaming fruitcake, maybe waiting to ambush me in the carrot and pea aisle, who in the world knows? But one thing is certain, I fought back.”
“And how, pray tell, did you do that?”
“A while ago I had a batch of 500 bumper stickers made that read ‘WHERE’S THE BIRTH CERTIFICATE?’ and I’ve got about half left – want one? — so I stuck a few on the offending vehicle and then, according to my hysterical wife over there, I got ‘carried away’ and started to paste them on every bumper in the parking lot. After the first 20 I got tired and we went inside.”
“You went inside because I saw a police car pulling in to the parking lot, is what happened next. You weren’t tired in the least. And you know what he did next? He pasted his bumper stickers on the freezer doors of the frozen food aisle. He bypassed the ice cream and went straight to the frozen pizza doors.”
“What’s the point of wasting my stickers on ice cream doors? ‘Mommy, Mommy, I want some ice cream.’ Do you think the harassed lady is going to take time out and read my bumper sticker? Hardly.”
“Just curious here, but did you even identify who the flaming liberal was?”
“Ha! That was a piece of cake. Picture, if you will, your typical brain-dead Obot. It’s like the dumbest girls in college are aspiring teachers, that and literature majors, who never read a book in their lives, yet are the best-looking ones by a country mile; get it?”
“We found her at the hamburger meat section. She was easy to spot: she was going through the ‘ready-made’ prepackaged hamburger patties. Probably has a zillion credit cards in her purse all maxed-out.”
“No, I didn’t spot her, but Mr. Congeniality did. He walked up and said, ‘Run, Hillary, run’ right in the lady’s face. She didn’t know what to do, so I said, ‘Now, honey, everyone may not be for Hillary,’ and guide him away. The lady was scared, no doubt about it.
“So we continued shopping for a while and then we saw her talking to the store manager at the front, and we saw the cops approaching the doors on the west as we abandoned our cart and left by the door on the East. So we made it back home and on the way I called you.”
“So, now what, we expect the police to come knocking on your door?”
“Yes, we do. We thought that if we had Roving and crew the cops would lay off, or at least pretend they’re halfway civilized.”
“Fat chance. You have a place to stay? A cabin, friend’s?”
“We have a cabin at about a three-hour drive.”
“Go. Leave now. Make haste.”
“Knock, knock! Anybody home?”
“Hello, Officer. May I help you?”
“Are you Mrs. Hillberry at 327 Oak Street?”
“See that street sign on the corner? See the words? ‘OAK STREET’? See these numbers on the porch post, ‘327’?”
“Are you a gun owner?”
“Are you stupid or what? You figured out this is 327 Oak Street, so what, you just passed the Sergeant’s exam?”
“Is that a cross you’re wearing?”
“You going for extra credit?”
“Ah, excuse me, Officer, Roving and crew here for ‘Pulse of the Nation.’ May we ask why you are asking questions that are, shall I say, nonsense?”
“Turn that camera off. We are asking these questions to determine whether we’re dealing with a domestic terrorist. Now, do you own a dog? No? Then we’ll have to stop by and pick one up at the shelter. Why? Because you’ve just been put on the SWAT list scheduled for 3:00 a.m. We knock down doors — never knock or call — and the first thing we do is shoot the family dog. Then we ransack your house looking for guns and cash, take what we want, and then say ‘wrong house’ and do it again the next night.
“It’s the New America under this anti-American administration. And is your husband a Veteran? He is? Vietnam? He’ll have to die, I’m afraid. Orders are orders. Our job is done: Have a nice day.”
“What a shame, we forgot to turn our cameras off. Okay, Mr. and Mrs. McKay, off to the cabin you go. What are we going to do? Why, just to say ‘thank you’ for watching our show tonight. This is Roving and crew saying goodnight: Goodnight.”
“Good show guys. Now, Mr. and Mrs. McKay, stay away for at least a week. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a phone call to make.”
“All packed and ready to go? Great, have a nice time and don’t worry about a thing. We have it all worked out: SWAT team storms wrong house at 3:00 a.m; owners on sabbatical visiting Vietnam Memorial in Washington, DC. They’ll probably drop the dog off at midnight: tie it to the front door; drug it so it doesn’t make any noise. Don’t worry; we’ll save the dog for you. We’ll have multiple hidden cameras everywhere, outside and inside.
“We’ll make a show of it, don’t worry. Take your guns and anything you treasure because either they’ll bust it or steal it. Don’t forget, we’re dealing with the bottom of the barrel here, which leads us to the argument about the wisdom of our police force being made up of ex-military or by those who couldn’t cut the mustard. Used to be police forces in our country were made up of 100% Veterans, and now Veterans are considered ‘domestic terrorists.’
“Hey, let’s go get ourselves a well deserved burger. My treat.”