I'm writing this from the restroom facility at Big Hill Pond State Park in southern McNairy County. On Monday, I commandeered the building, which contains the men's and women's restrooms, some racks of pamphlets, and two vending machines. There's no one here right now, but I plan to stay as long as necessary to protest the fact that the state of Tennessee is run by oppressive know-nothings who wouldn't know small government — or freedom, for that matter — if it bit them on their considerable backsides.
I'm talking about Andy Holt and Mae Beavers and Ron Ramsey and all those other dolts running things in Nashville, the people who think we elected them to fight an imaginary war against Sharia law and oppose gay marriage and suckle at the teat of the N.R.A. They're not patriots. They're self-aggrandizing morons, and I'm taking my state back. I want to make Tennessee great again.
I'm not kidding. I've had enough, and I'm serving notice: If the state of Tennessee wants this building back, they're going to have to come and pry it from my freshly sanitized hands. And don't think it's going to be easy.
I've got a nice Beretta 12-guage automatic (the one I got as a wedding present from my brother-in-law), an (almost) full box of birdshot, and three pretty substantial bottle rockets. I've got four packages of thick-cut Benton's smoked bacon, some nice sourdough loaves from Fresh Market, 15 Lindt Intense Orange chocolate bars, six heirloom tomatoes, several pounds of artisanal dark roast Kona, 12 bags of Skinny Pop, and two cases of Wiseacre Tiny Bomb.
Check and mate, my friends.
Not to mention, there's enough toilet paper and hand sanitizer in here to last me 'til June, at least. And don't forget those vending machines. Also, the Tuscumbia River is just over the hill, and I packed a sweet five-weight Sage and a nice selection of spring dry flies. A country liberal can survive. Underestimate me at your peril, Cousin Bubba.
Of course, I got the idea for this boondoggle, er, courageous stand for freedom, from those guys out in Oregon, the ones who bravely stormed and liberated an empty U.S. national park building that mostly catered to bird-watchers during migration season. Then they hung a bunch of U.S. flags everywhere and asked people to send help via the U.S. Post Office.
Because of that, some people are making fun of them, calling them "Vanilla ISIS" and "Y'allQueda," but I think those right-wing mokes have the right idea. If you don't like something, call the government's bluff! Take over a federal building. For Freedom. And news coverage. What's the worst that could happen? Not much, apparently.
So, here I am in good old Big Hill Pond State Park, making my own stand for freedom in sympathy with my Oregon brothers-in-arms. And like them, I'm locked and loaded and angry, and I'm not leaving until some big changes are made ... or I get some airtime on national television.
So, Governor, er, Lieutenant Governor, Ramsey, you can send in the National Guard, I don't care. Hell, send in ol' Mae Beavers. I'd love to chat with that poofy-headed dipshizzle face-to-face. That's right, you Nashville yahoos, I'm here on Tennessee state property in McNairy County, I'm Memphis as eff, and I'm not going anywhere. Come at me, bros.
Oh, and did I mention I'm white? Well, I am. Really, really white. Sooo ... you know. Take it easy.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks. — William Shakespeare
Is there such a thing as "bad activism"? I'm asking because I'm seeing a lot of criticism of the folks who are protesting the Memphis Zoo's encroachment onto the Greensward at Overton Park.
(such a sky and such a sun
i never knew and neither did you
and everybody never breathed
quite so many kinds of yes) — e. e. cummings