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A Bullet Named Uncle Freddie
A glimpse of 2027
I have to admit, it’s pretty peaceful up here most of the time. The wind carries the scent of pine and occasionally you can hear the woodpecker. Even before The Greatest Bestest Change Ever I didn’t watch TV, so Executive Order Bigly Yuge 111111111 didn’t make a difference for me. I’ve heard stories of people going mad after watching the mandatory 7/24 broadcasts of our Great Orange Leader’s speeches back-to-back, but personally I’m OK.
Apparently Trumpazon is doing great business shipping yellow wigs and confederate-flag armbands across the country to citizens eager to show their allegiance to the regime but again, it doesn’t affect me much. I always carry a bag of bananas and shelled nuts on my rare resupply trips into town, and our local Keystone Klan Kops always seem very happy to gobble them down. They’re so busy eating they don’t bother me as I collect the few things I can’t grow up here on the land surrounding my shack. It probably helps that I wear my white supremacist t-shirt so I can blend right in. Oops, I mean ultra-right in.
There was some gossip a few weeks back about a group of Democrats who’d escaped the roundups. Apparently they’re supposed to be hiding out somewhere near a hot springs in California, ripping into each other over whether or not, if they survive the current regime, they should to…
