Political Humor

The Tea Party is racist. The unbiased staff at NPR said it, so it must be true.

If you believe in limited government, you’re just a racist. If you think the government is bloated, and overstepping it’s boundaries, you just hate Obama because he’s half white. If you think the Federal Government needs to reign in spending and be fiscally solvent, you’re judging Vice President Biden by the color of his skin and not the absence of his character.

If you believe in personal liberty, and the independence of the individual to be free from government tyranny, then you only hate Nancy Pelosi and Hillary Clinton because your bigoted against the transgendered.

I do diverge from my fellow conservatives on the issue of abortion, though. I think any measure that allows Liberals to volunteer to prevent themselves from procreating is a good thing. I fully support a woman’s right to choose to exterminate future generations of her culture. Why is it that changing the words after “right to choose” makes me a sociopath?

Those of us on the Right are being accused of wanting to kill off Aurthur, and the rest of the PBS children’s show characters, and I have about had it with these accusations. I don’t know of one single Right-winger that has the cojones to personally put a gun to Elmo’s head and pull the trigger to snuff out the little shit.

Oh, but think of the poor children – - I mean, the one’s that weren’t aborted. Whatever will they watch, other than Handy Manny, Dora the Explorer, and a jizzillion other kids shows on dozens of networks on cable tv? Poor Bert and Ernie, they’ll be relegated to obscurity on cable TV.

I always said, “If you want something done right you have to do it yourself.” I only have one speed. I only have one gear. Go.

Looks like it’s up to me to put Aurthur out of his misery. I heard Aardvark is delicious too. That’s how conservatives roll. We eat what we kill.

That reminds me, people have been raving about my burgers and want my secret recipe. No, you cannot have my secret recipe. No, the secret ingredient is not Aarvark. I will never tell what my secret is. [Note to self: Stop by the abortion clinic on the way home. Burgers on the grill tonight.]

Just admit it, Teabaggers. You only hate President Obama because he’s gay.

Perhaps you have heard of the Global Warming SuperHeroes, the website that spews the same AGW beliefs as the rest of those on the left. But they do it with a cutesy premise of comic book characters.

First off, I am disappointed in Gaia Girl. Usually the female super heroes show more cleavage. And what’s up with Flash Carbon? His package is aimed at GG and he’s winking at us. Are we to imply he scored?

I suspect the logo is not what it appears to be. Les can you help me out here?

Les: How’s that?

Oooh nice. It is missing something though.

Les: How about now? Gore looks like ten pounds of carbon stuffed into a 5 pound sack.

Indeed. That is perfect and the EPA acronym is fitting.

Look out world, here come the Global Warming SuperZeroes! The future of humanity depends on them?

Mild Max, the Radioactive Liberty post-apocalyptic dime store satirical on-going novel about a man in a future world wracked by an Ice Age returns with an all-new chapter. (Want to write a chapter of Mild Max? Find out after the story. Missed a chapter or all of them? Links down at the bottom as well.)

Chapter 11: The Best Laid Plans…

It was day two of the journey to New Brazil.

While traveling through the solar panel farms in the mountains, we stopped at one of them to rest. Well, what used to be farms. In this messed-up world people took everything that wasn’t nailed down, and then everything that was.

The hippies wanted everyone to recycle and they finally got their wish. Every last bit of glass, plastic, metal has been stripped away, taken to who the hell knows where. Nothing left here but pavement.

I’m surprised someone hasn’t taken that too.

But the scavengers are long gone. And the old farms go on for another couple hundred miles or so. We should be able to make some good time without being seen or bothered. No sign of the Off Roaders or the Roaders.

I picked up the solar-powered walkie-talkie that was sitting on top of the dash. There wasn’t a lot of sunlight in California but enough to power small devices. I radioed to the other Humvee parked ten feet ahead of us.

“Hey, Steven. You guys done yet?”

“Almost.” Steven replied back, sighing.

I looked at Simon, one of the four men from the other vehicle sitting in the passenger’s seat. “So, why aren’t you over there partaking in the flitter love fest?”

“I’m not one of them.” Simon replied. “I was hired for this like you were.”

I laughed. “Kid, you look way too young to be security detail. How old are you, fifteen?”

“I’m twenty and I’m a mechanic.” Simon smiled back at me. “And aren’t you so old you remember what it was like before the ice age?”

Cynthia chuckled from the back seat. “He’s got you there Max.”

“Don’t encourage him.”

Suddenly, there was a howl that sounded close by.

“UNknown!” Cynthia yelled.

I turned the engine over and grabbed the walkie-talkie. “Steven! We got company!” There was no response.

“Where the hell is it?” Simon exclaimed.

“Steven! UNknown!” I yelled into the walkie-talkie.

BAM!

The UNknown landed on the roof of the other Humvee with a loud bang, crumpling it like a tomato can and crushing the flitter orgy inside. Giving off an ear-piercing shriek, it charged in our direction. I threw the Humvee into reverse and floored it, then spun it around in a 180, jammed it into drive and took off.

“It’s gaining on us!” Cynthia yelled.

“Well, get the hell up top and take that damn thing down!” I shouted.

“I can’t!” She replied, her fist slamming on the hatch door. “It must be frozen shut!”

Son of a bitch. We had an equalizer but no way to get to it unless we stopped. The only option was to try and outrun the damn mutant thing. I steered us towards some woods, hoping we could use the trees to trip up the UNknown. It caught up to us and kept slamming into the Humvee’s side, trying to run us off the road like in one of those old car chase movies.

It hit us so hard one time the two wheels on the driver’s side went off the ground for a few seconds. Then it hit us again. The Humvee tumbled over on its roof and slid along the ground until our momentum gave out and we came to a stop. Cynthia and Simon were out cold. I wasn’t much better.

Looking out the cracked windshield I could see the UNknown a few yards away, approaching us as if it was anxious.

Pew!

The mutant stammered after it was hit. Was that a laser beam?

Pew! Pew!

Two more blasts took the beast down, its crazed body landing with a noticeable thud that shook the Humvee.

As I faded out of consciousness a hairy person wearing furs came into view. I swear it was a caveman.

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Links to all chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Want to write a chapter of Mild Max? Let us know with a comment below and we will make it happen.