DO NOT WRITE A DDOS ATTACK Aimed At Tooth SoCal. That Would Make Trump Angry If He Couldn't RAGE TWEET All Night Long. +Plus+ It's Probably Illegal to Piss Off Mad King Donald!

*DISCLAIMER*
This is a Joke. Mockery. Satire. Ridicule...




While the Slogan: 

"Punch a Nazi in the Face. 

Do it for the Human Race!" 

is fun to chant at an anti-Trump protest... 

It's a bad plan to actually do that...

For unpopular men, a gun is a practical alternative to having a girlfriend. When you fire a gun, you squirt your juice... 

Is Trump the Real Father of Karoline Leavitt's Love Child? While It Is unlikely that he could get an erection and impregnate her the old fashioned way... He has been showing a lot of interest in IVF... 

If you’re not a deadhead and wonder what all the fuss is about, Or more importantly if you’re a deadhead who never had the chance to live on tour- this is my perspective, and one that might surprise even hardcore fans. We had a purpose. I'm not supposed to expound on this part of it- but Bobby is dead and it’s about time. We can expose the files.

Bobby’s passing hit me pretty hard. Those who ~lived~ on tour lost not only an icon and his music, but we lost a place. A physical, mobile space that we called home. Most of us felt more at home on Dead lot than any other place in the world. There has never been its equal, before or since. I started in Atlanta in 1992, and ended in Eugene Oregon in 1995. I lived on the road nine months a year. During that time I have no idea how many shows I saw, how many cities, campgrounds, motels, mileage. Home felt the same no matter where we were, because living on Grateful Dead tour was the home itself. Shakedown was a community event. Think of it as a farmer’s market that turned the wheel of our economy. We literally, seriously had our own economy. You could say we lived on the L standard. If you lived it, then you know what that means. The basis and primary function of our society was to disseminate our special product, and turn on the country. Kids were tripping for two hundred miles in every direction every time we came around. Each small town ran out of L just was we were coming back again the next year.

If I remember the code correctly, if you heard the song “candyman”, which is a treatise of how to conduct our business, and “deal” in the same set- it meant feds were close, and stay low on the lot. This sounds dramatized I know, but -Please remember- Owsley made ALL the real L until the end. There has been an MK Ultra connection since the start. If you question the band’s connection to our mafia (and make NO mistake- we were a peaceful drug mob), Owsley is the proof of what i’m saying. The drug, the band, and select fanbase were the purpose of ALL OF IT SINCE THE VERY FIRST NOTE THEY PLAYED. They began to communicate with us in the early 70’s. For example (from the ‘90’s) - when things went wrong, listen to “Sugaree”. Them’s the rules.

Things like that are the key difference between tour kids and fans. I’m not being a tour snob, and I’m not putting one against another. Everything was about the fans. They legitimized our existence. We had a job to do. Fans who showed up for the weekend had the reach to touch every community in the nation, and created the basis of our civilization. And raged against an Orwellian inevitability! We just supplied the means. We had a job to do, and that job was equally as important as the music. Always was, since the acid tests. This ISN’T FOLKLORE. THIS IS REALITY.
The words in the music told us what to do. Not just how to do our job, but how to conduct ourselves in a civilized society of our own making. We were about dissent. We were about free thought. We were given the tools to enlighten our society and entwine them in the magic of the music, let them viscerally feel the foment of revolution, and become individuals.

Those who called Deadlot home feel it differently, because we were a different kind of fan. It was more than just a band or a rock star. Bobby was basically the vice president, and eventually became the president. He was the leader of our mobile society. He represented the last trace of home many of us have ever known, and will never know again. When Jerry died we lost a village. Today we lost a home. There will never be an iteration of the Grateful Dead ever again. It’s been a while since I’ve been home, and I’ll never be able to go back there again.
I am one of many citizens of Shakedown, in the province of Deadlot, in the country of Grateful Dead Tour. I will forever long to go home.

and then PD said:
I posted this January 6, 2021. (The answer turned out to be: Nope.) Could it be that there is a sliver lining to this? Might this be the step-too-far that finally drives middle America away from the GOP? Could this be the beginning of the end, leaving the Republican party in shambles?

And then BP replied:
The Republican Party is dead. It only exists like the Vincent D'Onofrio character in Men In Black. It's just the skin of an actual political party wrapped around the alien bug inhabiting it.
When Trump goes away, will there be an organization left that bears any resemblance to the party of Eisenhower, or even Susan fucking Collins? I don't think so. When Trump goes away, what will be left will be a white supremacist criminal enterprise, a rotting, festering pile of garbage not even recognizable as a political party any longer.
Sadly, when that happens, the Democrats will still be writing strongly worded letters to demand accountability...