Dinosaur Disco Episode Two: “We Know the Path”
In P.R. Burn-em’s Two Party Circus, the Blue clowns are still boogiein’ out in the middle of the center ring, dressed up in their full Democrat Dinosaur outfits. It’s a sight to see, folks, the big spots raking against the spinning disco ball and shattering into a million glimmers of light that race around the arena. The beat of the music is repetitive, irresistible. The crowd is mesmerized, hypnotized, entranced by the flickering spectacle. Or maybe they’re just bored to sleep.
Meanwhile, hidden behind the balloon walls of the Trump Bunker, the Orange Tyrannosaurus Rex is getting ready to charge into the ring, right into the middle of their stiff-jointed John Travolta moves. If these partying Demo Dinos don’t watch out, he and his pet monster Barr-o-don are gonna start ripping heads off.
According to ancient Circus tradition (named the US Constitution) a Tyrannosaurus can be warded off and punished only by an arcane ritual described in hushed whispers as the “I-Word”. (The true name of this ritual can only be spoken during the ceremony itself.)
It’s the job of the Dinosaurs’ Speaker to protect them (and the crowd in the stands, too) from this monster. The Speaker of the Dinosaurs must organize the great I-Word ritual, and bring all the dancing dinosaurs together to hold the Tyrannosaur off. If the Blue Dinosaurs fight back, they can contain even the big orange clown Tyrannosaur, and save the circus from destruction.
But with her Dinosaur brain frozen in the past, current Dinosaur Speaker Nancy Pelosi just wishes that someone else would do her job for her. First, she spoke out that Trump should “self-impeach”— her word, not mine. She dug out her musty copy of the US Constitution and had her aides find the “self-impeachment” clause. “Not there,” they told her, without having to look. “Only the ritual that you must lead.”
But instead Pelosi-osaur said, “We know what path we’re on. We must run away from the Orange Tyrannosaur, toward the cliff over there marked 2020.”
So Pelosio-saurus staggered forward on her path toward extinction and the other Dinosaurs followed her blindly. As she ran, she called out for help from Trump’s family. “Won’t you please intervene,” she cried, “So I don’t have to do my job. Everybody keep running forward on the only path I know, toward that cliff over there.” But Trump’s family wasn’t having any of it. “No, we won’t intervene.” Meanwhile, voices from all over the jungle were calling to her, “Please, Speaker, do your job and stop the Tyrannosaur.”
But Pelosi-osaurus staggered forward along her same doomed path. Next she looked up to the sky. “I pray for him” she told us, obviously wishing once again that someone, anyone, even God himself would do her job for her.
But God, in a great booming voice that sounded a little like Robert Mueller, shouted down at the fleeing Blue dinosaurs, “Do your fookin’ job or get out of the way!”
Then he tossed a big fookin’ asteroid at them, because he was so pissed off. And we know what came after that.
But even impending extinction won’t change Pelosi-osaurus’ mind. She knows what path she’s on, toward that cliff over there. Now she hopes that law enforcement in the future will do the job that she won’t do. “I hope he goes to jail” she says. “Because I’m not willing to do my job. That’s the path I’m on, and I’m sticking with it, even if it means extinction.”
So much for Dinosaur thinking. We know where that leads. Do your fookin’ job, Nancy, or get out of the way and let someone else do it for you.
Dinosaur Nadler seems to be getting a little tired of all this disco dancing. He’s raging around the edges of the ring, and sharpening up his Triceratops horns on the sand. I’m pretty sure he’s got another good charge in him. And I’m just guessing here, folks, but I think he could probably go ahead and start the great ritual— that is, an impeachment inquiry—in his own committee even without Pelosi-osaurus backing him up. Hell, if she won’t do her fookin’ job, some Dinosaur has to do it.
Go get him, Jerry! Charge the Orange Tyrannosaur! You may be our last hope.
The Democratic Fashion Show Dinosaurs are in on the disco, too. Like old Diplodocus Joe Biden here, with his long, slightly creepy neck.
Dino Joe is trying to cover up his dinosaur face by pasting feathers on it. “I wasn’t a dinosaur then, and I’m not one now,” he tells us, swaying out of rhythm to the bad disco music and rubbing the shoulders of a young girl in front of him. “You’re beautiful,” he tells her, then tells us, “I’ve cared about women’s rights from the start. Just forget about the past and relax. Now doesn’t that feel good?”
But the glue is failing, and the feathers are falling off his face, revealing the Blue dinosaur skin beneath.
That ain’t adaptation, Joe. That’s just another bad dance move. Step off the floor, if you please.
Two days ago Biden said, “Yes to the Hyde Amendment! I’m behind her, I mean it, all the way.”
And yesterday he said, “Hyde what? Never. I’m better now, I’m over it, believe me.”
The Democrats call that flip-flopping when Republicans do it. But in the Democratic Dinosaur Disco, it’s just another dance move. From the side, I’m not gonna forget those long years of Biden holding an anti-choice position, just because he does a little spin move on the dance floor today.
If Biden is the best the Democrats can put forward, I’ll have to find someone else to vote for. ‘Cause I sure ain’t voting for Old Dino Joe.
As a climate voter in 2020, I would consider voting for Jay Inslee. But apparently, the Dinosaur National Committee, also known as the DNC, isn’t interested in my vote. The DNC will not hold a climate change debate, and in their typical fascist fashion have threatened to punish Inslee or others if they participate in a debate on climate change.
Now that’s democratic! Makes me proud not to be a Dem no more.
Because Dinosaur Thinking Leads to Extinction.