Gas v Bomb

We have learned today that gassing babies to death is worse than bombing babies to death. Assad has finally crossed the line. So long as he bombed babies to death, he was okay.

But when President Trump saw those writhing, gassed babies, he was moved to fire amber waves of million dollar missiles. Had he made a warrior’s decision, of course, he wouldn’t have warned Russia ahead of time, which then in turn warned the Syrians, which enabled them to move the scary stuff elsewhere.

We have learned that gassing babies to death is worse than starving babies to death in the Horn of Africa. Trump may or may not have seen tens of thousands of starving babies in Africa, but I’m cynical enough to believe he wouldn’t act no matter what.

We have learned from CNN, FOX, Nany Pelosi, Hillary Clinton, Marco Rubio, Lindsey Graham et al that Trump did a presidential thing, sure proof that gassing babies to death is far more terrible than starving babies to death. Sure.

And yesterday, we learned that Mormons in Utah have issued an emergency alert, that the white baby stock needs replenishing because babies of color are taking over.

To sum it up, babies are pawns.

President Trump appears to have made a spontaneous decision, based on watching gassed dead babies on television, to fire tens of missiles at a pre-warned secondary airfield in Syria.

Guess which stock went up today? Missile stock – of course. (I suspect that countless erections went up, too.) So, rich investors made money off a symbolic bombing because our leader, a thumb-sucking baby himself, saw bad stuff on the news.

If there was money in saving gassed and bombed and starved babies, if there was a dead baby stock on Wall Street that Betsy DeVos and her evil brother Prince, Eric, could buy, the dead baby rate would plummet.

Spontaneity is the new driving force. Logically, that puts the ultimate baby revenger, nuclear bombs, on the table. And finally, we have our Emperor with No Clothes who is willing to pull the trigger. That is a table at which I don’t wish to sit, but then I’m a Liberal, you know, all gooey inside.

Babies are pawns. Babies are pawns. Babies are pawns.

You alt-righters out there, gnashing your teeth and longing for ultimate orgasm – ’cause your old lady ain’t givin’ it to you no more – and the smell of napalm in the morning: Arise! Arm yourselves! Crusade your pale asses to Africa, Syria, Afghanistan, for God and country. Don’t be a TV moron – be a hero. Save the Babies!

Just don’t expect Trump to lead you into battle. Donald J. Trump is no more a leader than I am a clitoris.

About Eugene Jones Baldwin

I am a writer: non-fiction, fiction, journalism (Alton Telegraph), essays (The Genehouse Chronicles) and have a website: I've published a couple dozen short stories and had eleven plays produced. Current projects: "Brother of the Stones" (available on Kindle), a book of short stories; "The Faithful Husband of the Rain, short stories"; "A Black Soldier's Letters Home, WWII,;" "There is No Color in Justice," a commentary on racism; "Ratkillers," a new play. I am an avocational archaeologist and I take parts of my collection of several thousand Indian artifacts (personal finds) to schools, nature centers, libraries etc. and talk about the 20,000 year history of The First people in Illinois. (See link to website) I'm also a playwright (eleven plays produced), musician, historian (authority on the Underground Railroad in Illinois, the Tuskegee Airmen) and teacher.
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