Insurrection, My Fat Ass!

(By Cyril Blubberpuss, Conservative-American.)

If there were Republican dictionaries," I said to a homeless man on 5th Avenue just before I tore off his surgical mask, "I'd make owning and reading them mandatory!" You know, if I was a dictator like Hitler or Stalin. Which I don't want to be, so you liberal pinheads reading this septic tank of a left wing blog better not try to make hay out of that.

    The point I'm trying to make is that we'd better reacquaint ourselves with the English language that we invented and was stolen by the English. That includes relearning the real definitions of the words "riot" and "insurrection".

    First off, you can't have the word "riot" without patriot and vice versa. And we all know patriots, the real ones, anyway, don't riot. Riots and armed insurrection didn't win the day during the revolutionary war when we fought for the freedom to use the language invented by Jefferson and Ben Franklin and to throw tea into Boston Harbor.

     If my old friend Rush Limbaugh were still alive, I'm sure he'd agree with me.

    Why, the old pioneer for male, Republican, Caucasian civil rights (who once got a full-throated endorsement from the entire nation of Africa) would have been horrified to see the English language so misused. Thank God he lived just long enough to see crowds as large as those in Nuremberg in the 1930s massing in DC in support of our hallowed democracy!

    It boggles the mind what he would've said on his radio show about that valiant act of mass patriotism if he wasn't in the process of turning into a rotting corpse and trying to figure out how to sneak in one last stogie inside his oxygen tent.

     Anyway, there's a world of difference between insurrection and the outright hooliganism that we'd seen last summer in the streets of Minnesota and Oregon, two liberal states notable for its belligerent black militancy. Or do you think they, too, weren't trying to overthrow the established order of racial profiling and extrajudicial executions? They knew the power of the Butterfly Effect as they tried to overthrow the nation's Capitol from 2000 miles away!

Still from security footage of my baby brother Cecil applying for the position of physician of the men's US gymnastics team.

     But protest, when it's principled, is a time-honored pursuit. Take my kid brother, Cecil, for instance.

    Just before the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta and right after getting paroled from Riker's Island for being the first person to set up the internet's first sex chat room (www.cecilsprays,com), Cecil became obsessed with becoming the official physician for the US Olympic men's gymnastics team. The fact that he hadn't attended a day in medical school let alone had a license to practice medicine never seems to have occurred to him.

     Yet, in true Blubberpuss fashion, those formidable obstacles did not deter my intrepid baby brother from applying for the job. The first problem, as Cecil's sharp mind saw it, was in the very word "men's." He couldn't for the life of him understand why young boys 11-13 years old couldn't be as athletically developed and accomplished as their young female counterparts. So my kid brother felt, that as the official team doctor, he could begin to remedy that.

     To no one's surprise, Cecil didn't get the job (To be fair, as the still from the security video shows, he was a tad underdressed for his impromptu interview). Well, his sparing wardrobe choice for that day plus a quick Yahoo search engine search revealed the once-enviable notoriety of www.cecilsprays.com and that was it for his fledgling medical career.

     Still undeterred, however, Cecil boarded one of our private corporate jets and flew directly to the US Olympic trials to protest the injustice done to him. And, to further make his point, Cecil (In a rare libertine moment) decided to opt for even less clothing. Think of the Brooks Brothers protest (NOT a riot), only without a Brooks Brothers suit. Or underwear, for that matter. 

   What few videos that have remained of the 1996 trials do not feature my kid brother (In fact, Youtube had banned them immediately although one remains featuring my sibling's voice screaming in the distance, "Let 13 year-old boys flaunt it, you shameless ageists!"). Our sainted father, dear old Ambrose, was forced to use up every remaining political favor he had left to get Cecil out of that one.

    As with Rush's never to be post-riot radio broadcast, it boggles the mind what trajectory Cecil's career would've taken if the close-minded gymnastics officials had hired him and supported his initiative to begin accepting prepubescent boys onto the team.

     A few years later, Cecil mentioned this anecdote to our old friends Jeffery Epstein and President Donald Trump during one of Epstein's unofficial "cotillions" he often held at his Manhattan townhouse (in which all the girls seemed to wear braces) and my kid brother mentioned by way of illustration the lively social life of his wouldbe counterpart, Larry Nassar.

     Donald and Jeffrey bit their knuckles until they bled.