Thursday, July 16, 2015

Behind the Politics – Scott Walker

In 1966, a young preacher, Llewellyn Wwallker, fresh from the Welsh consonant mines, came home to his property, Patricia, with a gleam in his eye. With the lights down, spinning a Sing Along With Mitch LP (Go Tell It On The Mountain b/w She’ll Be Coming ‘Round The Mountain And Confessing Her Sin Later Even Tho’ She Really Rather Enjoyed It), a bit of fumbling, a cry of “Holy Hannah, that’s not it, owwww-w-w-w-w!”, followed by the shameful, lonely shower, Scott Walker was invited to our earth.

He entered the world in 1967, a couple days early, perhaps, his eyes may have needed another 36 hours or so. In retrospect, due to that day in April when Pat put dinner on the table at 5:32 instead of the clearly defined 5:30? Sin defines us all.

From a young age, he showed a burning desire to enter the world of politics. At the age of three, he ran for King Of My Playroom, and his inexperience proved detrimental; he was defeated handily by his Garbage Pail Kids cards. He vowed to not repeat the mistakes of his first campaign, and at a recall election he called 15 minutes later, having promised teddy and himself marshmallow cream, accusing the Operation game of socialized medicine, and with the Kids in absentia having recused themselves in a statement from the potty, he eked out a victory over Surfer Ken.

Scott became an Eagle Scout in record time, earning 37 merit badges in one ceremony by diligently threatening the scoutmaster with accusations of homosexuality. He was chosen to go to Washington for Boy’s Nation, where one of his eyes was convinced that the animatronic Reagan winked at him. Starbursts! His die was cast; follow in the shuffling footsteps of the first Non-Conscious American president, and accumulate a plastercaster collection with every industrialist he came across.

Accompanied by his attorney, and with claimed possession of a ‘secured lockbox of accumulated photographs and affidavits’, he entered the typically more discriminating Marquette University. After three and a half years, they were able to divest themselves of him, for reasons unreleased, although rumors of electoral misconduct were widely assumed to be “No shit, he’s a dick.” His given reason was a job offer with the American Red Cross. He was well known among his colleagues; John Doe, an investigator, recalled him “often staring blankly at his Highlights magazine, deep in thought, muttering about bootstraps and soylent something. We called him EH, short for ‘eldritch horror’, he got a big kick out of it. Although, now, looking back I’m not sure he ever quite understood that, or really anything. Anyhow, you couldn’t get away with anything with the guy, it was like he had an eye on the side of his head. Good times, after he left.”

In the early 90’s, Wee Wiw’ Scott ran for the Wisconsin Assembly, losing to Gwen Moore, who, interestingly, would also advance into national office long before Walker ever had a miniscule shot. Walker, showing the tenacity of his hero, Reagan, who put on a great show of not remembering the Iran-Contra fiasco while not being able to remember the Iran-Contra fiasco, moved to the tony district of Wauwautosa, WI, home of many young men nicknamed ‘The Third’, bought a pallet of Plaster of Paris and two crates of Burt’s Bees Balm, and won.

In the Assembly, he was a Republican populist, working against women (’s rights to control their own bodies), unions (right to work), and minorities (Voter ID). Known as ‘The Remora’, he attached the sucker on his head to the excretory orifice of the American Legislative Exchange Council shark, gleefully introducing ALEC-written bills benefitting private prison corporations.

At some point, Scottie’s heart turned to thoughts of sex involving other beings, and one day, behind the cotton-candy stand at Wauwautosa Entitled Twat Days, all of his fantasies came true. Unfortunately, society looks down on homopestuality

and he had to end it with Ben. He then found Tonette, whom he slowly came to not loathe, and in a small ceremony, with LLeeEWElyyn holding a shotgun as incentive, he married her and bred. However, his heart had been hardened. By virtue of the fact that he could not look anyone in the eyes, he was able to disguise his disgust with the company of his own species. He determined that if he had to suffer though a human-human heteronormative marriage, no one else of a mind to be what they are should ever be happy. Tonette had to make some concessions; their wedding was on the anniversary of the birthday of the Famous Animatronic President Reagan, along with the birth of their sons and his annual performance of his husbandly duties, with him under a sheet with a strategically punched hole.

Eventually, the Assembly was too small a stage for Scott to tread upon. Running against cunning Democratic Party apparachik Tom Barrett, who felt the best way to win over the state was to run to the right of the Teabirchertarian Walker, Scott dug in his heels, lied like an ungrammatical rug, played at being a moderate and carried the state. All of his unstated (to the general populace of Wisconsin) promises were within his hands. Public Service Unions – scottsmash! Gogebic Taconite – bring in your private army! Chucky and Davey and Grover – get over here and drop 'em, daddy needs some mangravy!

A sizable percentage of Wisconsin voters signed a recall petition for Scooter, but Scott stood tall. With a handpicked Waukesha county clerk, and $30M in campaign funds, fully $536 of it coming from Wisconsin residents, he ran again against the cunning Democratic Party apparachik Tom Barrett, who felt the best way to win the state was to not purchase his own county clerks. Scottissue won again.

Now drunk with power, and with an almost unaccountable amount of rodent estrous to quell his nearly insatiable needs and hide his true calling from the public, he put in his bid to destroy education in Wisconsin, proposing freezing spending on public schools and expanding the state's school voucher program. He called for vaginal wanding and the end of Planned Parenthood, proving his devotion to women keeping in their place. Despite his surreptitious fellating of rodents, industrialists, and the corpse of The Great Rotted Reagan, now kept in his sunroom, he kept the promise made to himself when he had to marry within his species and vowed to pass a law requiring the LGBTQ population of Wisconsin be used for medical experimentation, or as kindling if they begged appropriately. Wisconsin, being on an extended bender, sobered up in later November to find Governor Turdwaffle retaining his seat.

In 2015, he debated running for president, despite having neither a degree nor binocular vision. In part two of 'Behind The Politics - Scott Walker', to be released after the first Fox debate, we will explore the failure of his campaign and unfortunate crippling injury due to confusion in his autonomic nervous system generated by attempting to blink both eyes, tripping off of the end of the stage and failing into the lap of Sarah Palin, who broke both of his hips searching for his wallet.


  1. Unsolicited Mekons content: Jon Langford is one of the casts in Cynthia's collection...

    1. I have no doubt that this statement is public knowledge, probably on her website, and obtainable through some research. Not as a result of stalking an anarcho-folk-punk band.

  2. Nicely done. Except. of course, that it is all real; you may have been going for snark, but it's all pretty much actual reality. Which makes me sadly sad...and kind of fucking pissed as well.

    I am particularly depressed at the Happy Dance Victory Lap being done by Sykes and the wing nut hordes; they are very very happy to see that Wisconsin's government is completely corrupt and the Courts are completely bought. Modern state courts are running $10 million; quite a bargain if you manage to install a vindictive puppet like Walker into the Presidency. If not: Mining! And OIL! and KILL THE UNIVERSITIES!!! They don't vote for Republicans anyway, so fuck them...

    1. Atchally, I wasn't solely going for snark, although that's my usual canvas.

      I am really unhappy that not only is this smegma not going to jail due to power politics (read: money, dear boy), but the incompetent, incoherent, possibly incontinent Furby fondler is a front runner for the Repressedlican party, especially when HRC is gobbling up much of the standard democratic party campaign contributions while not exactly lighting up the electorate (I'm a huge Bernie fan, and could tolerate O'Malley who's just fooling himself, but I recognize electoral reality and if Hillz is the D nom, I'll support her fullthroatedly).

      Sykes is filth. Little Limbaugh wannabee, right down to the number of wives. Fuck him.

    2. I honestly don't know why O'Malley is running.

      He doesn't have a chance, nor does he represent any segment of the party that isn't better represented by another candidate.

      And he's not going to get some great gig on FAUX Nooze out of it, either.