THE BEIJING CARWASH

 

It was the Dance of the Dumb. World class jackasses and jabbering fools covered in string warts and red and white MAGA caps. Many holding signs, most with spelling errors or logical fallacies. Trump’s ever shrinking ‘base’ is not stupid, contrary to popular belief. They simply have bought into The American Dream.

Although they’re in a double-wide now, they think that their birth right is that one day they will be billionaires too, and they want Trump to protect that rarefied air for when they finally make it. From the TV talking head who is on Obamacare, but demands the repeal of Obamacare, to the steelworker in a union job ignoring that Trump made a huge deal for Russian steel imports while in office.

Other, browner people are downwardly mobile. Not the Trump Rubes. They believe they are moving on up, and The Donald will greet them with a toothy smile and round of golf, as they drink from the bidet at Mar-A-Largo…

Some showed up today to hassle the pregnant teenagers, others to hit on them. The thinking being what better place to find a chick who puts out than out front of a Planned Parenthood.

Of course, the girls come for many reasons: The Hoover Maneuver, An Arkansas Omelet, Plan C, Kevorkian’s Kid’s Menu, A Redneck Period, A One-Time Child Support Payment, The Sneaky Frenchman was just one attraction.

I was there for my annual Testicular and Prostate Cancer Screening. I’m not a high-risk candidate, I just like the test. Few people are aware that Planned Parenthood provide Men’s Health Services too. Cancer screenings, vasectomies, and I’m told, erectile dysfunction and premature ejaculation treatments. Not all Planned Parenthoods offer this, just the good ones. Let your typical GOP stalwart learn they can get boner pills at Planned Parenthood and the taps of public funding would be wide open.

I walked the gauntlet of God Botherers and potential fake Electoral College delegates spilling out of the buffer zone in front of the building with my eye low, less one of them try to speak to me. No such luck. I got trapped before I even got to the stoop.

   “You know, Steve Jobs, Celine Dion and Pope John Paul II were all almost aborted by their mothers,” a rat faced woman snarled at me. “Every child has the potential for greatness, but we are robbed of that future 17,000 times a day in this country alone”.

   “Hey, Joe Manchin, Kyrsten Sinema and Ethan Hawke weren’t aborted either, so it’s a two-way street,” I said as I tried to push my way past her.

   “An abortion is a violation of the Declaration of Independence. Everyone has the right to life and liberty. LIFE and liberty! It is what our forefathers wanted,” Rat Face’s Uncle/Date said as he helped form a human wall to keep me off the steps to the building.

   “Yeah?” I answered. “Thomas Jefferson, who wrote that Declaration, also invented a plow moldboard that doubled as a speculum so the slave ladies of Monticello could abort his bastard children while they tilled his fields, so I’m think his Bill of Rights might have only applied to white, male landowners…”

The Uncle/Date wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to agree with me because on the surface it sounded like something he might like, but he also knew if he pissed Rat Face off she wouldn’t let him stop an Denny’s on the way back to the trailer court.

I took advantage of his confusion and dropped the MK3 Concussion Grenade I had been saving for my birthday at their feet. The blast did not do as much damage to them as I had hoped, because they weren’t in an enclosed space, but they scattered back to the buffer zone, and I made it up the steps. After all, Dr. Jellyfinger cannot be kept waiting.