A Modest Proposal 2

March 3, 2016

“Gulliver’s Travels” author Jonathan Swift famously wrote “A Modest Proposal,” which “advocated” eating the British poor, thus solving the poverty problem. Upscale England was shocked and outraged. Had they taken his advice, Charles Dickens would have had nothing to write about.

Yesterday we saw astronaut Scott Kelly climb out of his space capsule—thank you, science!—then we saw a man with a dyed raccoon pelt on his head spout hate speech to the haters, the bottom feeders, the crack heads, the crack pots, the crackers, then suddenly the joke was not funny anymore.

Do you doubt, given the rise of the Whitey Party’s Donald Trump, how stupid Americans are? Science is in a parallel universe with the Whitey Party, which doesn’t believe in evolution or logic or even common sense.

“A Modest Proposal 2: Kill Pussycat, Kill, Kill”

The solution is to promote guns. The Whitey Party is literally shooting itself to death, albeit it too slow for me, and we can only pray that home deaths by handguns increase, thus thinning the population of Gomers.

In today’s news, a teenager was rudely awakened (never wake a teenager, rude or otherwise), pulled a handgun from under his pillow and shot his mother, his sister and his grandma. Just as he wished, he avoided going to school. Unfortunately, the relatives lived.

Then we have the boyfriend in WashingtonState who spent yesterday with his girlfriend shooting (pun intended) selfies while holding a handgun to their heads. The girlfriend told authorities that they had emptied all their guns of bullets. Except the one which blew the boyfriend’s head off. This incident will be nominated for a Darwin Award.

Gun deaths in the home are not tragedies. They are stupidities, bringing new meaning to “I’m with Stupid” tee shirts.

We have the baby boy who saw Mom put a handgun in her purse. She walked into the kitchen for her last drink of water on Earth, and Junior, having reached into the purse and retrieved the gun, shot her in the face. Ka-ching! We have the little girl who listened as her father sat on the couch with her and explained gun safety. He handed her the gun and she shot him dead. Ka-ching! We have the boy who, when his mom opened his bedroom door with pizza bite snacks, as he and his pals were having masturbatory adventures with his dad’s .357 Magnum, shot his mom dead and the pizza bites to bits. Ka-ching!

How You Can Help

Buy Pops and Cousins Jewhater and Ihateniggahs guns for birthdays and Christmas. Pre- load the weapons, grab the kids and run for the car as the relatives recreate “The Gunfight at the OK Corral.” That’s right, Second Amendment them to death.

Come on Whiteys now, smile on your mothers, everybody get together and shoot one another right now (apology to Crosby, Stills and Nash).

 

 

About Eugene Jones Baldwin

I am a writer: non-fiction, fiction, journalism (Alton Telegraph), essays (The Genehouse Chronicles) and have a website: eugenebaldwin.com. 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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