Political Humor | Dawn of the Dems

A disease, that has turned the greater part of its citizens into mindless automatons, has affected all of the major cities across our great nation. It creeps even now, outward. Threatening to devour us all.

A few hold out, but are vastly outnumbered by the malevolent hell-spawn, that stalks the night. This minority attempts to hide their true nature and tries to blend into the festering, squalid, concrete and steel that surround them. For they know that if they are discovered, a fate worse than death awaits.

The lucky ones seek refuge in small town America, clutching to their Bibles and guns. But for those who are trapped in the cities, being found out means vicious verbal assaults, followed by attempts to remove their brains. If they succumb, then they too will walk the angry streets, flowing not with red, but with blue, now thoughtless followers of the Queen and Prince of the Damned.

In a plot more horrifying that any George A. Romero could ever have conceived, millions of zombies are flocking to the rallies, indiscriminately giving away their rent and grocery money, blindly turning over their freedoms and sacrificing their unborn to the Unholy Trinity.

Artist conception of Obama at the Dems convention in Denver

“When there’s no more room in hell, the dead shall walk the Earth.” Dawn of the Dead, 1978

The Prince, an untested, beguiling deceiver, seeks to usurp the throne. The Queen, a cruel and battle hardened veteran, desires above all else to ascend to heights of power and arrogance. But neither will gain what they crave while the other’s campaign lives.

They have set their minions to destroy not only the hold-outs in the cities, but also those very much like themselves. Evil turning upon evil. The Queen’s fate seems certain, but she will not yet yield.

Hillary creating another mindless voter

But there is still the third in this Triad Of Terror -he who hides from the crowds. He is the Master Manipulator, the Puller of Puppet’s Strings, the King Maker. He doesn’t want or need the crown, or the throne. He desires only to be the power behind it. The one who will tell the regent how high to jump, when to Move On. (org)

My friends, we find ourselves all but defenseless in the contest. Our Champion is weak of heart, false in conviction, and would parley with the enemy. He was not of our choosing, but true heroes are few. Our fate hangs by a thread.

We must bolster that thread. Weave a new fabric in our own homes and townships. Break out of our lethargy and hone our dull fighting skills. The time is coming when we will have to face this menace. The time when we must combat the blue and let the streets of America again, run

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