Well that’s just great! They did it again.
Listen, the Floriduh Legislature will screw up a one-nag derby.
They had only one must pass bill. And they messed it up.
No, not that one. Budget-smudget! Floriduh fiscal sanity hopped the midnight train to Georgia long ago.
I mean the bill giving The Great DeSanitizer power to detect and declare domestic terrorism whenever the mood strikes him.
Or whenever there’s a full moon, I forget which.
Oh, they passed the wretched thing. But they forgot to include the one vital clause that would make it all worthwhile.
And this after I hired a very influential lobbyist to make sure it got in.
How influential? Listen, the guy wore a blue seersucker suit. He had a pet raccoon and worked for Jack Daniel’s.
More fool me. I thought he lobbied for the Jack Daniel’s Company. Turned out he literally worked for a bottle of Jack.
So he was passed out cold during the crucial hours when all manner of mischief can and does slide through the Leg undetected.
The missing Ron Enabling Clause
Anyway, the Leg passed a flawed bill. And when our anti-Ron signs it he will be able to designate domestic terrorism organizations till the cows come home.
Organizations!
Alas, missing was…let’s call it the Ron Enabling Clause.
The one that would instruct our Gub, I mean Guv, to declare any male libtard wretch a domestic terrorist by his own self.
Provided he was born on March 2, 1948.
And his mom named him after her favorite Hollywood star…Ronald Reagan.
That’s how close I came to achieving Floriduh Man Fame.
Hell, I was gonna get to go on Morning Joe.
But no. Now I gotta be an organization. And I’m like Groucho…I can’t abide any club that would have me as a member.
Wise guys, breakfast bunch, beer drinkers
Yeah, I suppose I could draft my every other Wednesday Wise Guys dinner cabal. But I know those guys, and there’s barely a drop of wisdom to be squeezed outa the whole bunch.
Then there’s my Saturday morning breakfast bunch. Trouble is that by the time they get home – bleary-eyed and in a pancake-induced coma – they’re done for the day.
Oh, and my Sunday afternoon beer hall putsch pals? Listen, I know my history, and we don’t want to go through that again.
Da doo Ron Ron Ron
Just one thing left to do. Unless I can get Michael Keaton to show me how he managed to clone so many of his own selves.
I’m gonna sign up a bunch of Rons.
Let’s see. There’s Ron the aging cyclist. And Ron the Jimmy Buffet wannabe.
And Dead Head Ron. And Ron the earnest (you know he’s earnest because he wears glasses and shaves) journalist.
Not to mention, biker guy Ron and life-is-a-mistake-and-so-am-I Ron.
Hell, we are all Ron!
It’s like my old journalism professor Buddy Davis used to say: The only people who refer to themselves in the royal we are kings, editorial writers and people with tape worms.
I’m pretty sure all my Rons fit in there somewhere.
One problem. All those Rons look suspiciously like me.
Problem solved!
Oh wait! I know. I’ll draft the anti-Ron Hisself.
I’ve been saying all along that he is his own worst enemy.
And I’ll bet The Great DeSanitizer doesn’t even know that he and the anti-Ron are one and the same carbon-based life form.
He is Guv of Floriduh, after all. By definition not the sharpest tool in the GOP shed.
Anyway, this idea that “unless you’re an ax murderer you should be able to stay” in the company of Rons “is not good policy.” (I stole that quote frag from somebody but can’t remember who.)
Oh, and we’re gonna call our soon to be declared domestic terrorist organization….wait for it.
Ta Da!…Rafar.
Rons Against Facist Anti-Ron
Not to be confused with Antifa. Which I believe was named after Annette Funicello.
Morning Joe here we Rons come.
FreeGNV 