OK, it wasn't exactly our duty to screw the Democrats and Obama out of their Supreme Court nominee Merrick Garland in 2016, but we had 'em over a barrel—we had control of the Senate—so, tough cookies. We got the public to fall for the old "We can't appoint anyone to the high court in an election year" gag. "The people have to have a voice," Itchy Mitchy McConnell said with a straight face.
Now the Dumb Democrats have their hair on fire again because with only days until the election, we're going to replace liberal icon Ruth Bader Ginsberg with a right-wing woman who hates birth control and the Affordable Care Act. It's almost as good as when we replaced civil-rights hero Thurgood Marshall with Clarence Thomas, who scoffs at affirmative action and all that equality bull. Ha ha.
Well, anyway, the Dems are so pissed off now that they are threatening to expand the court when they control the Senate. And if they weren't mad enough, Trump is saying we'll seat the new justice to make sure he wins the election. So subtle. The whiney liberal pundits are crying that we'll wreck the democracy with our hypocrisy and downright shit-iness. But look, the Constitution says it's our duty to nominate justices. We Senate Republicans are just doing our duty as good Americans. Politics isn't patty-cakes, so shut the 'F' up.
Madame True-so Reads the Tea Leaves
Things are so crazy what with the election and COVID-19 and police shootings and everything that the staff here at Smart Bomb is about to go bonkers—check that, we are bonkers. We're so shook up that we went to see Madame True-so who can read tea leaves and tell the future. We said, Madame True-so, there are more than 205,000 dead Americans from COVID—20 percent of all global coronavirus fatalities—will there soon be a vaccine? She peered at the tea leaves and said: "I see a fat guy golfing in white pants and a red hat with dead bodies stacked like cord wood all around him." OK, OK, will the fat guy in white pants steal the election in November? She wrinkled her nose and said: "I see a man hanging from a gallows wearing a T-shirt that says, 'U.S. Constitution.'" Is it the fat guy in white pants? Madame True-so got a distant look and said: "I see a line of cars heading for Canada and a billboard with an ugly, orange face that says, 'I'm Great Again.'" Oh no. This could be horrible. Who will be president, Madam True-so? Tell us, please. She said: "I see a woman with the initials N.P. drinking tea in the Rose Garden." OMG. Will Trump be impeached again? Will he get indicted for tax fraud? With that, she got up and said, "I have to go, I'll be late for Pilates."
Say Her Name
Here is a scenario: You're hanging out at your girlfriend's place watching TV in bed. After a while, you both begin to drift off to sleep. You awake to someone pounding on the front door and then it bursts open. So, like a good American you own one of the 400 million firearms in this country (this is sadly true) and shoot at whoever is breaking in. Immediately a hail of at least 30 bullets rip into the apartment, your girlfriend is shot six times and dies bleeding out in your arms. The cops search the place up and down, as per their warrant that was based on false information, and they don't find anything illegal—including drugs. Three months later, the police finally release the incident report that says under injuries for your girlfriend, "None." Next to the box that says, forced entry, the cops check "no." The police were not wearing body cameras. Your girlfriend was shot by a cop firing into a side window although he could not see inside. The attorney general presented the case to a grand jury and did not ask for murder or manslaughter charges against the cops. We know this because in grand jury proceedings, where there is no defense, prosecutors can get an indictment against a baloney sandwich. In effect, the ruling said your girlfriend is collateral damage. She was 26 years old, and she's dead. Say her name.
Postscript—OK, cadets and cadetettes, we have to start looking on the bright side, despite the fact that the stars are aligned against us. It's true, 2020 is the Year of the Rat on the Chinese calendar (we would never lie about that). But look, we aren't in danger of being killed by volcano ash, there aren't any floods coming, that big comet missed us last week, so we won't go extinct like the dinosaurs, and the Utes are playing football again. And consider this: We aren't living in Syria or Iraq or Afghanistan or Utah County—something Wilson and The Smart Bomb Band are very grateful for. You see, there is good news almost everywhere you look: Police dogs in Salt Lake City can't bite you anymore on account of they've been put on administrative leave; Republican candidate Burgess Owens hasn't declared bankruptcy since he announced his run for Congress; and there is no way in hell that Sen. Mike Lee will ever be appointed to the Supreme Court. Things really are coming up roses. No one in Utah was deemed "The World's Dumbest Person" this week, although the title is still held by a woman from St. George. And Utah remains No. 1 in Jell-O consumption—eating at least twice as much per capita as any other state. So, chin up, put on your rose-colored glasses, and if you get to feeling a little low, just do some Jell-O shooters. Ah, that's better.
Well Wilson, you and the guys in the band have been sampling the famous Smart Bomb tequila Jell-O shooters, so we know you're in a good mood. Why not take us out with a little something that will soothe our senses after another week of cataclysm:
I'm going up the country, babe, don't you wanna go?
I'm going up the country, babe, don't you wanna go?
I'm going to some place where I've never been before
I'm going, I'm going where the water tastes like wine
I'm going where the water tastes like wine
We can jump in the water, stay drunk all the time
I'm gonna leave this city, got to get away
I'm gonna leave this city, got to get away
All this fussing and fighting, man, you know I sure can't stay
—"Going Up the Country" by Canned Heat
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