A Very Biased Progressive Tale about Doing the Right Thing
Josh was having a really, really crappy day. It was only nine am, and already he’d been sent home from work with a warning to be vaccinated within five days or he’d lose his job. And then he had been kicked out of Mcdonald's for refusing to wear one of those face diapers they call a mask. And now he had just got a call that they had put his grandma in the intensive care unit for what they claimed was Covid which of course was complete bullshit. He knew better. The Libs were out to get them.
As he walked down the street, he felt broken and alone. Nothing made sense anymore so he prayed, “Dear God, please make things clear to me and show me what to do to make things right.” Then just as Josh walked past the library, it started to rain. And it was not some wimpy drizzle. It was a drenching downpour. The only thing he could do was rush up the steps. He had not been in a library since he was a child. Books were not his thing.
He wasn’t quite sure what he would find. He sort of expected to see the building’s interior festooned with hammer and sickle banners and cluttered with little alters to Barak Obama and AOC. Instead, he immediately came upon a rack of just-published books featuring volumes by Sean Hannity, Lou Dobbs, Bill O’Reilly, and the Man, himself, Donald Trump. “Well maybe,” he thought, “this place isn’t so bad after all.” He decided to look around. As he wandered through the building, he could not help but be impressed. There were computers you could use to access the internet. There was a huge room devoted to magazines including every gun and sports magazine you could imagine. There was also a room devoted to music and movie CDs some of which actually looked like they were worth watching. And the lady behind the counter assured him that everything was free. What a deal! And she told him there was a nice room for kids with books and games, and activities to keep them busy. “Might be a good place to bring his kids on their next visitation,” he thought. He could park them in the kiddie room and then go watch some adult entertainment on one of the computers — not a bad way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
He decided to walk over and check out the kiddie room. It was cheery and bright, and the kids in there looked like they were having a pretty good time. “Yeah,” he thought, “Tucker and Rush could have fun here. They could take any of these weenies — no problem.”
It was then that the miracle occurred, and God answered his prayer. He chanced to look down at one of the little tables that dotted the room. On it was a puzzle picturing a cute little mix of kittens, puppies, and baby bunnies. It was complete except for one last piece which sat on the table beside it. And Josh was struck by a holy vision. It was like he could see clearly for the first time. The puzzle seemed bathed in a golden glow, and he realized it represented a tipping point in human existence. If he didn’t complete the puzzle, Trump would again be elected and replace Biden. And he could clearly see the ramifications. Strife and inequality would increase. Elections would become meaningless as the Republicans rigged the electoral process in their favor. The country would slide into a corrupt kleptocracy with the Trump family and their cronies reaping the benefits. The large corporations would be allowed to run amuck and have their unchallenged way with the economy trapping the majority of the population in a drab hand-to-mouth existence in the name of corporate profits. Medical care would slowly become virtually unaffordable for the average citizen. And climate change would be completely ignored leading to the deaths of hundreds of millions across the globe while the elite class hunkered down in domed climate bunkers and partied on.
However, Josh saw that if put the last piece in the puzzle Biden would be reelected in the fall. There would be less strife. Average living conditions would improve. Health care would become available for all. And the worst excesses of climate change would be avoided as temperatures were held somewhat in check and those from the most affected areas were peacefully moved to new homes in the far north and south. It would not be perfect, but life would become reasonably pleasant for most of the world.
With tears of thanksgiving in his eyes, Josh could finally clearly see what God wanted. He reached his hand down toward the puzzle and then with a violent flick of his wrist swept the puzzle from the table and scattered the pieces across the room. Screw the Lefties; he knew the Right thing to do. Then he stood up, pumped his fist into the air, and shouted, “And that’s how you own the Libtards.” Ignoring the quizzical looks of the other library patrons, he marched up to the front desk and got a library card which he used to check out Trump’s The Art of the Deal.
That night, Josh grabbed a cold one from the fridge and plopped himself down on the couch with his book. He read the first three pages and decided that The Donald was too deep a thinker to follow. He laid the book on the coffee table, picked up his remote, and spent the rest of the evening switching between Baywatch reruns, various porn channels, Fox News, and Antiques Roadshow. A couple of nights later, he got frisky on the couch with one of his lady friends and somehow kicked over the coffee table seriously injuring his toe. The book bounced off the table and slid under the couch where it remained until it was incinerated along with the house, the city, and most of the country in the Great North American Wild Fire of 2042. On a side note, Josh actually considered voting for the library levy renewal that fall but, of course, didn’t.