WHAT PEOPLE ARE TALKING ABOUT IN HELL; TRUMP AND TITLE IX
Journalism here in Hell’s capital Dis isn’t a nine to five job. often, after being in the office all day I trek out into the hot winds down to my favorite restaurant Vulca. Over its six floors and more than 2400 square meters of space it is a cathedral to the culinary and distillation arts. I am never more comfortable in any other public place here in Hell than when I am sitting at the bar or at my table in this restaurant which has been open for more than 10,000 years. A patron on their first visit is quite obvious; they spend more than a few minutes looking up at the balconies above from the first floor open foyer. The fresh warm air strikes them next with smells from more than one hundred sentient species that gather there to sample the extraordinary fare. Then their eyes are drawn to the massive bar. Literally a monolith carved out of a single block of malachite long before Mankind even had the ability to farm his own crops or had conceived of building cities, the bar covers the entire central axis of the first floor.
That’s where I was last night being a reporter; asking questions of anyone I could distract away from their plate or their drinking vessel. My old pal H.L. Mencken was enjoying his evening bourbon and I asked him about Donald Trump. “Trump?” He asked waving to one of the six bartenders that he was running low on Knob Creek. “Well, he’s an energetic populist. He’ll pack a wallop in the general election and what a celebration conservatives would have from November to February!” He paused and paid for his drink as is his habit he never runs a tab. “But think about this Fredrick,” now he was grinning, “Then Trump has to actually govern. That’s when he’ll find out just how great a President Barack Obama was and I’d be willing to bet you he’ll wish he’d never jumped into this barrel of vipers.” Mencken took a long pull on his drink and set the heavy crystal highball glass down on the swirled green bar surface. “Bombast and pandering to people who feel powerless when once they were just stupid and had power could get him to the White House, but Congress will have to save the nation after a year of that asshat in office. Being rich, being educated, shit being black or female none of that qualifies you to be President of the United States. Tact and an understanding of the limits of executive power do. I apply the Nixon-Hoover test to Donald Trump and I can only find one person that would be worse for America as she is today– Sarah Palin.” And with that and a wink he toasted me drained his drink and slapped me on the back and headed to his table for dinner.
Not long after Mencken left I saw my dear old friend John F. Kennedy walking in the door and making a beeline for the bar. “Bullshot!” he ordered and shook my hand firmly. Tonight he was meeting with other members of the Alliance party the liberal backbone of politcians in our parliament here in Hell. Everyone who is anyone in politics here knew Kennedy is seeking to become Prime Minister when the next election cycle came around in 2017. “Freddy! How’s business at that rag your scrawl for down the street?” Kennedy asked as he settled onto the barstool. If you want a jolt of real energy have a conversation with Jack in a bar when he’s in campaign mode.
“Business is business,” I replied. “I’m almost envious of you Freddy. Next year is going to be a banner year for political journalist down here and up there.” Kennedy pointed at the ceiling for emphasis. “I don’t have to tell you who I would support. I know you should never say someone is inevitable but having Trump clear the field of the opposition is possibly the best political trick since the dead voted for me in West Virginia!” I had to laugh at that one knowing it was true.
“You know Jack there’s a story in Illinois I’ve been looking at where the ACLU is supporting the rights of a transgender student to shower and dress in a girls’ locker room.” Kennedy took a sip of his bullshot and blinked at me. “What the parents protesting that this will lead to some slippery slope of everyone having to shower with everyone else? No wait, Freddy, I’ve ah, got it they are worried kids will ask them some uncomfortable questions when they’re home trying to relax after having their asses kicked by their betters all day at work? What is it man about these people who don’t understand that their world is constantly changing and that society and civil rights and the protection of civil rights must change with the same fluidity? If this school district doesn’t protect the civil rights of this student because her presence makes them uncomfortable then the Federal Government ought to simply take away their Title IX funding. Plain and simple; sometimes you have to kill a gnat with a sledgehammer when it comes to civil rights.”
Fredrick Schwartz, D.S.V.J., CS, O.Q.H [Journ.]
The Dis Brimstone-Daily Pitchfork
34 2 Leviathan 3 AS