Now, for the record, I didn't flip flop on Garland, Jade Helm, or Obama. I was pretty firm about Garland, but when I saw Pamela Geller's legs I "modified." I still maintain she set those Jihadists up masterfully. I just differed about the timing, that's all. It was as plain as the nose on your face. "Here boy, here boy," "ALLAH AKBAR!" BANG! Roll the credits, fade to black. I'd love to stay serious about that incident, but then I see those chalk outlines on the pavement and just start laughing all over again. Now we have, supposedly, seventy ISIS soldiers headed for Texas. Hold that thought, we'll discuss that later.
Anyway, Pamela's action was a point of contention among the brethren down here. There are those who prefer to negotiate with rattlesnakes while Texans just tend to have a rattlesnake roundup. Without naming names, suffice to say there was a lively discussion on the subject, which went world wide and peed all over my jeans. All parties are friends, and I'm stuck in the middle with a beer, and a Chihuahua. THAT was my, "Good Morning!"
Now, without getting too specific, I've got some stupid people in my family. Only it's not MY family, it's this extended white trash kind of family where everybody is a uncle, and more divorces than King Henry VIII. Wait, Henry killed his ex's . . . Maybe he had something on the ball after all. In my family Father's Day is the most confusing day of the year. Need I say more? And I am the blame for ALL of their problems. I'm thinking about changing my name to "Wilbur X!" I'm not going into detail, those who have ears, let them hear.
I capped off the night with phone calls from a drunk, who was hiding under bushes, after being tossed out of a bar because she thought the Mexican Mafia was after her. I crappith thee NOT! I get calls like that. I was kinda on the fence about if I should go pick her up or not. There's this little angel that sits on my right shoulder telling me I am my sister's keeper, but then there's this little red devil on the left who has me hoping she's just drunk enough . . .
Oh, and let us not forget my former daughter in law's picture of her holding an SKS rifle spammed someone's FaceBook page. That was . . . Special. I honestly don't know how that happened. They wanted me to remove the picture. Ok, a picture of a seventeen year old girl, with a gun, in a tank top, winking, and kissing at the camera that was syndicated in 2007! Yeah, remove THAT!
Anyway, I feel good today. Everyone who was upset with me, I guess, are sleeping it off. Like geese, they'll wake up in a different world today. Ok, back to the seventy "soldiers" attacking Texas. Now understand, Garland aside, Fort Hood is the prize. I'd venture to guess that if you took the total figures of all the people killed in the Middle East in the last fifteen years, eighty percent of them ate a bullet from Fort Hood. Now, right next to Fort Hood is an abomination called Killeen. The Cartels took one look at Killeen and said, "DAYUM!" People in Killeen think the world is flat, because when people leave town they never come back. Ever hear of a black hole, and I'm not being racist here. A black hole is where a star falls in on itself, and in its tiny size, wrecks more havoc than the original star ever could. Well, Killeen is a black hole! If you imagine New York City compressed to about the size of of an outlet mall . . . THAT'S KILLEEN! While sitting on my porch at night, if I don't hear at least one distant pistol shot, I think Jesus came back!
Now, I'm not saying there is a violent contingent here that is disproportionate with any other town, but I'm not saying the sun will rise tomorrow either. So here some seventy "Soldiers of Allah" to show the homies how it's done. The phone rings in a trailer park just off of MLK Blvd.
"Yeah, what good?"
"Uh, yo! You got anybody in the market for some guns?"
"Maybe, what you got?"
"Cool, now look out, I got seventy AK-47s. Never fired, and only dropped once."
Killeen . . . The city without limits!
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