25 February 2022
Ice Mountain is the name given to the expansive storage lot adjacent to the Michigan Assembly Plant (MAP) in Wayne. The Ford Bronco which awaits my waiting eyes is presently parked there awaiting a long-lost computer module. I am not losing any sleep over this one, nor am I feeling at all nervous about rats emerging from my Bronco once it materializes in California.
The new 6G Ford Bronco has already lived a few lives, and it’s not even been driven by me!
It is quite possible, and increasingly likely, that my Green Guy will be more of a decorative component in my driveway, given the rapidly rising costs of gas. Given the rapidly rising costs of everything!
“She only drove it on Sundays” might become a car-history truth!
I do not intend to one day sell off my Bronco in such a funereal way. I’m too busy watching the funereal PAC-rats in my nation fleeing their sinking ships of state. Why should I feel the least bit concerned about a rodent nest in a vehicle called Bronco when there’s been, for decades, an entire rodent nest in the D.C. machinery called Guvmint?
We all know the funereal event we’ve all been waiting for.
Dear Husband checks the digital-headlines each morning, just for me, just for him, just for the fate of our nation, maybe even for a laugh. The line between comedy and tragedy is very thin, but since the Liberalus americanus is utterly humorless, that line gets stomped on and trampled by the ugly fascist beasts daily, hourly.
The Liberalus americanus is a political animal that’s been around for nearly a century, but the species is dying fast, due to its abject allegiance to hatred. That corrosively destructive emotion is mostly self-hatred, and it gets maniacally projected, like that beam of hot white light, from the deranged-mind projector onto the screen known as America.
Of course, that species of inhumane human believes itself pure as the wind-driven snow, or ice. The hallmark of Purity is their schlock hallmark. They pay big-bucks, big-crony-capitalism bucks, to keep that dime-store image alive through the profane propagandist known as Media, the extinct 4th Estate dinosaured by bimbos and baldies.
The Purity is part of The Science, which is part of The Greed, which is part, or all, of The Guvmint in the 21st century where a pandemic scam got obliterated from the Propaganda Headlines in less than 48 hours!
Here, in California, The Purity is, in actuality, Purell in a leisure suit, oh, I’m sorry, an ath-leisure suit. The pompous pompadour purell guv, with his Getty Oil pedigree, needs to keep the purity in, well, everything. Purity is a Mask. Purity, in the olden days of 1990s, was a ribbon on the lapel to support the Cause, which is to say, the Liberalus americanus hatred of America, the American Way, Americans.
Purity in the gasoline has been, and might still be, the biggest cause in California for the Greatest Good. That Greatest Good is money in the coffers of the corrupt politicos. Gasoline, aka black gold, is the mother’s milk of politics.
Here in California, the gasoline is purer than in other parts of the U.S. There’s a convoluted surcharge here on virtue and, when you think about it, with virtue having taken a long hike off a short election pier, the virtue-commodity might make a comeback. Of course, I expect the virtue-signalers to sell short, but they’re short-timers.
The loud majority with its horns and honks and bustin’ broncs are gearing up for a summer of fun. I really want to take part in this historically American event in my country, but the latest estimated date of arrival is the end of May (2022).
By then, Summertime will be well on its way here in the Sierra Nevada foothills. I may have to throttle back, grab some sarsaparilla on ice, and watch on the digital-screen the real-life feeds of real news:
wheels in motion for liberty,
wheels in motion for sanity,
wheels in motion for mobility!
By that time I shall have decided if the name of Mr. Bronco is Billy Bob or Johnny Reb. I think you know which one I’m leaning, patriotically, toward!
I do find it somewhat hilarious that a vehicle — designed and built for all-terrain tromping through all kinds of horrific weather, including ice and snow — has been the subject of angst by prospective owners who fear the ice and snow might damage their Broncos.
Unless, of course, those soon-to-be Bronco owners are the Snooty Suburbanites who really should just stick with their Range Rovers or their Ahhnold Humvee, or other Mall-Crawlers. The morally superior Undecided Voters are getting decided at the pump at the price of $6.00, for starters. Those soccer-moms were always wanna-be’s. The newest generation are wanna-be wanna-be's.
When a wannabe is trying too hard to-be, it’s a malodorous occasion for the people who just simply are . . . whatever it is that the pollsters think is The Trend.
Maybe getting a beast that has survived Ice Mountain will be The Latest Trend. And that snow may be the only ice crystals that the suburbanite Bronco will ever see!
I shall then endeavour to ignore the fact that I’ve purchased an item that it is truly trendy. We have been wanting and waiting for the New Bronco since the beginning of 2017. Patience is a virtue.
