Department of Dumbass

October 11, 2016

A chill is in the air, squirrels are playing with their nuts and Donald Trump is palpitating his right-wingnuts. Autumn lets us cool down, enables us to breathe easier, and wipes away the crazies in our brains.


Apparently, a few of us didn’t get the chillin’ message. Take, for example, the hungry gentleman in St. Louis, last Saturday afternoon. He pulled into the drive-through of a Steak and Shake, placed his order, and as he reached for said order he shot himself in the head. God intervened and let him live – why, I can’t imagine, but God works in mysterious ways – and the guy’s recovering in hospital.

Police didn’t release details, but that’s never stopped me.

Scenario: I’m in my car, I’ve got my gun . . . in my lap? Am I afraid that the African American cashier might reach through her Steak and Shake window and throttle me, or worse, laugh at my whiteness, my bleached bald head? Meanwhile, I’m feeling randy while waiting for my Under Four Dollar Meal, so I unzip and reach for my boys . . . and grab my gun instead – it’s a huge gun – and I pull my trigger, and I get an owie in my brainpan.

Scenario: I’m a robber, and I need a few bucks to tide me over. Why not roll a Steak and Shake? So I’ve got my gat between my legs, place my order, drive up to the window, raise the gun – only I’m holding it backwards, only it’s too late to stop this premature ejaculation of a bullet from shooting my eye out for a perfect hole in one. Now I’m in a hospital bed on a no-fat diet, with a four-hundred-pound male nurse sitting in the visitor’s chair and hacking my emails.

Then there is Oklahoma Governor Mary Fallin, who has issued an invitation to Christians to pray for the “blessings created by the oil and natural gas industry.” She even set aside a day: “Oilfield Prayer Day.”

But the good governor – she had issued a similar proclamation every year since 2011 – changed this year’s wording to include only Christians, as only Christians believe that “oil and gas are created by God.” Muslims and Hindis and Buddhists, it seems, embrace science but are shit out of luck and have to ride bikes to work.

Scenario: God meets with Governor Fallin last night. He tells her that oil was created by compacted dead dinosaurs millions of years ago, that evolution is His divine miracle, that Earth is a failed project in a cosmos of infinite projects, and that his son Jesus Christ’s message was all about yoga, spas and strawberry daiquiris.

Scenario: Governor Fallin gets so upset, she reaches into the waist band of her polyester skirt, pulls her gun out, shouts, “Donald Trump, grab my pussy,” and fires at Our Lord, but the bullet deflects to a statue of White Jesus, thus deflecting the projectile back at the good governor, blowing out her left kneecap. At hospital, a four-hundred-pound male nurse notes that Governor Fallin needs some booster immunizations, but Independent presidential candidate Dr. Jill Stein steps in and denounces immunizations, and Governor Fallin dies of the measles.

Autumn lets us cool down, enables us to breathe easier, and wipes away the crazies in our brains.


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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