Q-Quacks

Whoa!  I’ve been left out of The Far Right Equation!  How disappointing!  I was certain that I was an apropos candidate too!  Now I have never been accused of being highly intelligent and I do believe that my IQ is actually in triple figures, but I did poorly in school and struggled to maintain a C average.  My best academic year was my 2nd year in 2nd grade as I cut the number of D’s right in half.  Right in half!  I was so proud of me doncha know?  Since I was a little slow on the intake, you know, not real fast but at least half-fast, I should fit right in.  The Far Right Extreme would be home for me, they would welcome me with open arms.  Just look at their awe-inspiring names they have: Oath Keepers - my experience there is unparalleled as I’m not sure how many oaths I had to recite back in my school days from altar boys to neighborhood gangs to high school organizations to the top oath keeper of them all, The Boy Scouts of America; The Proud Boys - unfortunately, I can’t include the one of how proud I was of my grades the 2nd year of 2nd grade cause it has to be from someone other than yourself such as friends, siblings, parents etc. so I’ll have to get back to you on that one; Boogaloo Boys - this one is spot on and most decidedly a shoo-in since I am already an honorary member.  Our Funkadelic Dance Group was in a Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade back in the 60’s when we all boogalooed down Broadway; White Supremacists - not sure of this one since I have no interest in walking around like witches with torches, burning crosses in people’s yards while wearing white bed sheets and hoods, which would have to be made out of cotton, since I’m allergic to rayon; Neo Nazis - no f***ing way man, Indiana Jones is my favorite hero.  Did I miss anyone?  If I did, we’ll lasso it in before we’re done.

So, where would I fit in, then?  It would be such an honor to be able to join forces with verbiage like Oath and Proud, you know, like The Marine Corps.  I am an Air Force veteran though so I may get extra points for that, however, I won’t pass muster since my age is against me and I’m not as radical as I used to be.  Besides, I would have to go and get a whole slew of tattoos and needles to me are like snakes to my hero and rats to his dad.  Is there no recourse for me, a man without effrontery?  Not to fear!  Before despondency griped me, I lassoed that which escaped me: Q.  Of course, there’s my new hobby.  I can just be me and wear my regular flannel shirt and jeans and not have to look like a grungy tattooed bandolero.  Of course I will eventually have to get used to needles and go to Goodwill for my fashion wear of furs and leggings.  I do have my Davy Crockett coonskin cap from my 12th birthday so that will save some money which I can use for face paint.  There is one small issue though, they seem to be in disarray at this time.  Seems the January 20th judgement day has come and gone and they are just like, you know, totally confused.  Things have turned a little gnarly for them, they can’t seem to locate this Q guy.  Tweets have popped up all over on how disillusioned they are.  Rumor has it that Q is JFK, jr. and he’ll be here any day now.  Are you kidding me?  Where have these fools been.  What a bunch of Q-Quacks!.  Everyone knows that JFK, jr. died in a plane crash and has been re-incarnated as a jackrabbit out in Arizona!  Chees!  They’re really going to need me to educate them now.  Not to worry, there’s a new sheriff in town and I know exactly who Q is.  It doesn’t take rocket science to figure that out.  He works for Ml6 with James Bond.  Heck he’s been in 21 movies.  I’ll email him in the morning.  Warning: don’t stick your finger up your ass waiting for a reply though, your arm may rot off at the elbow.  Stay tuned…..!

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