Despite all the caterwauling over the atrocious, bought-and-paid-for decision to knock down Roe v. Wade by conservative Supreme Court Justices (pardon the oxymoron), Phillipe & Jorge are finding solace elsewhere.
That is why we are comforted by the facts that show that there are more guns in America than people. This is helpful in the way that if you leave the house and forget your weapon, as you might your sunglasses, on the kitchen table, instead of having to go back in to retrieve it, you can continue on knowing you have a spare .45 in your glove compartment making things hunky-dory.
While the recent Buffalo and Uvalde shootings added to the hideous mix of other mass killing atrocities that have been unspeakable, and have led to what the members of Congress can’t stop patting themselves on the back for their “momentous” legislation (30 years and a dollar too late), this “bipartisan” attempt to cure citizens from packing 24/7 is a total sham.
While mental health background checks and school security are doubtless serious issues, they are merely programmed and strategic distractions from the major issue of outlawing the sale and ownership of assault weapons, which no one, especially the spineless GOP (Proprietor, National Rifle Association) wants to talk about.
No one, no one, needs an assault rifle, except to kill people. Have all these mass murders been committed by anyone using a handgun? Or hunters shooting from deer stands or duck blinds? Thought not.
The public is being told intentionally to look the other way, as if by a magician or a three-card monte dealer on a city street, to distract you from the very real and deadly problem that is killing America and Americans: assault weapons for sale to virtually anyone who can stand upright and fork over the dough.
Only when people wake up to challenge the false flag arguments being foisted on us by knowingly corrupt politicians, and address the real problem of assault weapons being sold, without a hint of the fact that they are the things that have been at the core of all the mass murders, should we feel we have even addressed the main problem. Only criminals have guns? How many street crimes involve assault weapons? How many deadly domestic blow-ups involve assault weapons? How many legitimate hunters use assault weapons? How many mass shootings involve assault weapons? Oops! Yeah, you got it. Doesn’t take a genius, does it?
So let’s cut the bullshit about these supposedly giant steps the country’s legislators at the national and local levels are taking to stop mass murders. It is indeed a Confederacy of Dunces. And guess who the dunces are, boys and girls? (And don’t think the politicians and NRA don’t know it.)
The once mighty and respected Providence Urinal continues to dissolve before our eyes. You could call it fish wrap, but it is so thin now it could only hold a couple of small scup at best. That for $3 a day and $6 on Sunday. What a bargain!
For those of you smart enough to avoid buying a hard copy of the paper, it has jettisoned its editorials, as no one other than old hands like Kathy “Faster, Pussy Cat, Kill, Kill” Gregg, Pinky Patinkin, Patrick Anderson and a few other old hands actually have a clue about how Little Rhody operates and what the people think, and they obviously aren’t consulted. Now the non-resident owners have also said that their “Opinions” columns will be less opinionated, and if you can explain that to any sentient human being, you win. Double Pabulums all around!
No doubt to keep those two scup covered until you get home from fishing, you would be astounded to see that the obituaries section has now been enlarged, not by an increasing number of deaths, thank all gods, but by using hugely oversized type and photos, resulting in a few pages the size of a Cardi’s ad. This is known in the journalism trade as filling space. So now The Urinal can add an additional couple pages to make it seem less airy than a spider’s web, and brag about how they actually had enough copy to fill out 10 pages in the front section. It is so hideously overblown (over an event no one is pleased to announce) that while the folks that pay for the declaration of recent deaths might appreciate the frameable size of the news, it borders on the obscene, given the crassness that lies behind it.
Used to be that your local paper’s editorials were the conscience of the community, and in those days, rightly so. No more on Fountain Street. The top levels are controlled by clueless outsiders who barely know who Buddy was, or, for that matter, Raymond, and who you would have to physically turn and point out where Narragansett Bay is, as they were staring up the Woonasquatucket River looking for it.
P&J wonder how much space in the obits will be taken up when The Urinal dies?