Alas. Here is some more quilled verbiage of thought from your daily wordsmith with hope that some poor soul out there just might find some light to what the hell is going on with this country. I shall place this graphic script into a bottle and throw it overboard. Maybe it will reach a dry land soon; but then again, alien bottlenose sharks are following aft and the “Post-it Ghosts” have trained them to swallow the message whole.

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To whomever this message makes it…

It’s day 1455 of my captivity and this morning I have ventured back into my cabin to quickly scribble these notes with candlelight flickering as if it were warning me that impending doom is on the horizon for the USS America. It seems that pure chaos has overthrown the Trumpet House in Washington, Deceit and there’s no stopping the dark squawk box that visits the helm. Our main sails are torn, while America lists hard to port and Cape Horn is just around the corner. Wave after socialist wave crashes upon the decks and “all hands” are turning a sickening green watching in horror with every news update from the Crows Nest.

Blithering idiots from the Fox side – starboard to the socialist idiots of Madcow – port-side have polarized the crew and the algae on the planks still have not been swabbed causing many to fall and injure themselves. The ships doctor refuses to do his duty and his assistants have abandoned ship. Meanwhile aft, we are taking in tons of water from all the other sailors from abandoned ships around us that are trying to board US illegally.

And what is the Captain’s retort? He looks the other way – forward and admires his “wooden bust” of “MAGA” (Make America a Gulag Again) on the bow! Then he wants to build a damn Wall to keep US from leaping off the sinking ship! Such madness. If you look below in the galley ye will find more madness. Livestock and company crates too numerous to name here being thrown overboard because some boats-mate was offended with his profit. What the hell is he doing selling lead shoes made in China on this ship? No sane man would wear those non-buoyant toe-jammers anywhere and the Captain has bailed him out twice already!

What ye? Ye want me to say Maximus Retardicus’ name openly? NO. Ye do it. The damn thing never shuts up and it’s boatswain’s mate, (abbreviated as BM – bowel movement), with a last name of “Ocasio-Cortez” has taken Idiocracy as a challenge!

What is the manner of this? Some skullywag just stole my bottle of Rum-less alcohol and replaced it with a bottle of what the Trump-lipped captain calls, “Coolaide.” I shant be drinkin’ that crap either, for that is the very thing that ails me sir – besides for crying out loud; It’s made by Jim Jones and it sat in Davy’s Locker for a reason.

To add insult to injury, some old sea hag named “Trump Me the Lesser” up in the Crow’s Nest wants to ban certain foods aboard US except for her putrid “Captain Crunch,” which is approved by the Captain because the other brands “might” offend some Buddha boy’s Jihad-like stomach below deck. And this “Tale that wags the Dog” Soup tastes more like congressional fructose topped off with “Dung” stew. Your BI-partisan dinner tastes like crap America and I think its time to abandon ship:

I behold this day towards the brazen idiots that pace the decks to and fro that call themselves The John Birch bunch. They still seem to think that writing edicts on scratch paper asking the “dark one” at the helm to do his job will save this sinking vessel. And with audacity they want me to still title it, “To Honorable” starch-in-pants; like it would behoove them to tears and change the course of this Good Ship Floppy-Drop.

It’s nothing but a barmy animal circus around here and the first mate just informed me that the Golden Steer above deck is made out of porcelain and that some pervert named “Slick Willie” is trying to dry-hump its base while the Captain’s of previous voyages laugh in earnest. And if that’s not enough, below deck, naked Intern’s are having a “midget toss” with our sovereignty while foreign weights and measures chomp at the bit for a proposal to end our worthless script that’s not backed by any decent standard – and what of Gold? Nope – the sea-weeded brains on deck are too busy screaming for plastic instead.

A bipartisan horn that sounds like a cross between a flatulent Pachydermata mixed with a macabre ass out of control blasts the decks yet again while the usual crowd of suspects – “wide-eyed and clueless” gather and wait for their porcelain goddess to appear:

A drunken histrionic juggernaut named Pelosi staggers upon the deck kicking the brain train of life as five hundred and twelve jackinapes hack our anchor free so that none can throw a stop-strip into the fray. We watch her lay numerous bills in a pyramid of casks. A firebrand protrudes from her mouth; with pure perversity of temper she tottered as she walked, a perpetual socialist renegade – nay, an aimless byte of garbage in a metropolitan port-a-potty can comes to life and decks the halls with a drunken shout:

“Benevolent slavery and genocide is now available at a reduced price on deck three.”

This ship has taken the appearance as of a coffin. Some aboard this USS America scream that if we gaze at the uniforms of the Illegal sailors that have boarded US we will be charged of “ethnically profiling” them if we throw them overboard. Then they have the audacity to ask a “spokesman for Satan,” “What would Jesus do?” I say that Jesus would point to the madman at the helm and all the men around him and say:

“Physically flog the asses of these and then toss them from your ship FIRST, then enhance your rules to protect thee from outside tyranny.”

Mearrgh! Yes me maties. Cape Horn is not far away with a lesson to those who don’t follow The Rule of Law and bounce upon the perverted lap of a democracy:

“If you mess with the BULL, you get The Horn.”

“Full Broadside,” yells one Commander in this battle to save The Constitution. A tranquil ostentation of wisdom is sometimes better than a cannon; a cannon can fizzle out and cowardly operator’s can forget its function. At least the verbiage powder is kept dry in an exhausting situation. Hang in there. Many storms are ahead…sometimes rain isn’t so bad as long as there isn’t any Altered States.

March 12, 2019

~ The Author ~
Louis Turner, Commander of the Authors of the North, creator of numerous graphics, disloyal servant to the true emperor – Donald John Trump, father to none, husband to a murdered computer, and I will have my vengeance in this life or the next. I won’t win the crowd, but I will give them something they have never seen before.

@ntiCopyright © 2001 – 2019 Louis Turner. Republication allowed with this notice and hyperlink intact.