Is it a plane? YES, it’s a plane! The GOP Express, single-engine jet. It’s been flying high with a crew of Caribbean Pirate skeletons and a lot of radical passengers aboard. It just flamed out and is dropping like a rock. People are bailing. It just split up like the builders of Babel Tower when the Lord shattered their language and they couldn’t understand each other anymore. There goes Tim Ryan in a tissue-paper parachute. It sure isn’t golden, he’s on his cell-phone with , yes, actually, with Bill Clinton! Trying to get Bill’s help in triangulating some kind of survival on turkey-poop? Tim seems not to be growing wings, not even chicken-feathered ones.
Yep, the GOP Express is breaking apart. There go pieces of the Tea Party. Neither the TP Patriots nor the TP Express ever had anything holding ‘em together but a patchwork of threadbare ideas stitched up in Astroturf® with sound-bite talking-phrases and bad attitude toward regulation, standards and ethical restraint. The plane has been flying on airbags full of antisocial , anti-government gas which just ran out over west New York’s 26th congressional district. Booh-yaah! Luggage is hitting ground all over the place. Summer is scarcely here yet, and already it’s a hard fall! There’ll be no saving some of these Republican Caucus people. They unwittingly threw their navigator out of the plane when he got elected governor of Wisconsin and reversed the poles. His grave is dug but he’ll be too scattered to scrape into it, what with efforts to kill the working class and feed their remains to the corporate wealthy before his recall comes through.
Those red states in the mid-west are now red for a reason. The tornadoes that have torn through towns and countrysides killing and maiming citizens and blowing away whole suburbs, mobile parks and shopping malls along with hospitals and trees, are small pickings compared to what will come on Election Day 2012. The world did not end as predicted, last Saturday May 21st, nor will it end with the Meso-American Calendar Stone’s final entry, but to many unbalanced folks so far over on the political ha-ha “Right” that they can only be wrong, it will feel like the global catastrophe they have been unwilling to take up sensible measures to prevent. No song of the turtle but much weeping and gnashing of teeth will be heard in our land. Even the old-style, moderate conservatives riding in the tail-section will hit the ground not running any more. One can only wonder what the One-tenth of One-percenters will come up with, next, but it’s not likely to fly as well as old Eddie Ricketyback’s ragged biplane over Dogpatch.