Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Conservative narrative for a simpler America
Farm Runoff Homeschooling Heroic Legacy Story Project: a true facts history lesson for heroes of all ages.
Many Americans won't remember the great contributions Ronald Reagan made to our nation. Many were too young to remember. Many were too old. Many were either too old or too young but won't remember in any case because they simply can't remember much of anything in the first place. They couldn't even tell you, to this very day, who it is that straddles the coin operated horsy ride in the current White House. "George W. Bush?" they will ask, "why he's that feller who sells that cheap canned beer, ain't he?" Sigh.
But I remember Ronald Reagan, the great legacy, the heroic derring do, the swashbuckling naval sea battles off the coast of Grenada, adventurous safaris spent pursuing the woolly mammoth herds across the Great Plains of Indiana, balmy tropical mornings devoted to clearing trumpet vine with beloved world leaders such as General Efrain Rios Montt, or sharing a ketchup sandwich and a bowl of chewy colorful jellified candy beans with a needy mujahideen freedom fighter. Oh yes, those were hallelujah days my fellow citizens, days of moral clarity and chivalrous regal splendor. Lacquered bygone days of yesteryear that I'd like to return you to once more.
Therefore I have prepared a retrospective of bold and resolute leadership moments from the life and times of Ronald Wilson Reagan. I myself was raised by devout Christian conservative Republicans and larn'd in Wyoming where I attended a humble one room homeschool located at the bottom of a Christian uranium mine just north of Whiskey Gap and southwest of the Rattlesnake Hills. So I know a lot about stuff that they won't tell you about in the cultural Marxist public schools.
One of the most well known of the little known facts about Ronald Reagan is this: He was one of the American heroes who helped liberate the islands and quaint fishing villages of Southern California's Gulf of Catalina coastal waters. Isles and towns and hamlets liberated from ferocious Sandinista Naval forces and PFAW leftist insurgents commanded by the brutal anti-American way strongman General Norman "Sitcommunist" Lear. If it hadn't been for Ronald Wilson Reagan and his trusted allied war buddy Col. Rhett Ralston III (depicted lower left in the historic PR magazine cover painting), many of the major defense contractors and excellent beach front real estate small mom and pop business investment opportunities now flourishing in freedoms splendor along Southern California's God fearing freedom loving Protestant shores would not be with us today.
Few have heard of Col. Ralston but he was one tough marble and a fearless defender of western Christian values and the honor of chaste young women. In this painting we are captivated by that moment, in the late afternoon hours, just prior to the full scale beachhead landing and liberation of San Clemente, when Col. Rhett Ralston III unzips his pants fly to pee upon one of the many thirty foot long man eating sharks circling the very spot where he and his buddy Commander Ronald Reagan wade in four and a half feet of dangerous man eating shark infested waters off Onofre Beach. Thats how tough he was. He could pee on the Devil underwater.
Commander Reagan is depicted, at right, signaling the pilot of the resupply plane (Ace fighter pilot Bob Dornan, aka: 'Beverly Hills Bob'), as it drops red personal assault pool noodles to the special forces assault commandos waiting to move ashore. Highly absorbent, yet buoyant, and weighing nearly seventy pounds each when fully saturated with sea water, these stealthy and flexible space age polymer enemy personnel battering batons could be easily floated ashore with a man and then used to force open the doors of beachside bungalows harboring liberal funded reefer crazed National Endowment for the Arts supporters or to break up feminazi eco-terror environmentalist networks operating clandestinely up and down the coast from Laguna Beach to Oceanside.
A young homosexual immigrant from old Europe remembers the liberation of Onofe Beach. That young immigrant is today none other than author, journalist, weblog giant and respected conservative homosexual foreigner Andrew Sullivan. Listen in as Andrew recounts for us those historic events on that fateful day in Southern California those many many years ago:
******
[Onofre Beach | the Gulf of Catalina | many many years ago]
It was just before sunset and a group of us gay blokes had assembled at a residence along the beach to listen to loud thumping subversive music and exchange unnatural sexual favors with an aging French costume designer from Sherman Oaks. Then, just before dusk, we heard a low guttural groan from the direction of the ocean. Several of us scampered onto the deck overlooking the sand and what we saw left us frightened and distressed, yet, at the same time, utterly enthralled. For striding straight ahead in our direction, up the beach from the waters edge, were perhaps a half dozen large strapping virile men, dark khaki weekender shirts open to mid abdomen, heaving muscular chests and hairy backs straining against the weight of their soaking garments and gear, each cradling his own huge wet red personal assault pool noodle before him as he advanced toward us in the quickening twilight. It was an ungodly sight to see, let me tell you, and one young man to my left began muttering "oh mercy me, oh mercy me!" and then fainted in a heap on the deck planks. Others began frantically rushing about arranging chaise loungers and lighting bayberry candles and fussing with the Japanese lanterns that swung from the arbors above the fray. It was very confusing and events were unfolding rapidly and the last thing I can recall before the swaggering marauders overran our position was Mr. 'Sherman Oaks' appearing in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of women's' circa 1960's white go-go boots and a tangerine bolero jacket with little round silver bells sewed to the sleeves. Then, all manner of chaos broke loose.
As I said, it was very confusing and there was a great deal of noise and yelling and general altogether excitement as the invaders clamored up the boardwalks and onto the patio. The thumping subversive music and overpowering odor of cocoa oil, suntan lotion, Mennen skin bracer, and burning bayberry scented wax filled the air with a sickly madness. Screeching feminazi environmentalists were fleeing across the dunes in the distance and sweaty deeply tanned men were running here and there and some were squealing and some screaming like little girls do when a spider crawls up their stocking and others were grunting savagely as the scary handsome men from the ocean poked and prodded them with their huge swollen red assault noodles and the music went thump thump thump and the waves in the sea went crash crash crash.
At some point I was thwacked up side me coinkidink with a fully engorged noodle and rolled over onto a rubber air mattress where I lay exhausted and panting like a swamped tuna. The last thing I recall hearing was the jingling of little bells moving farther and farther off into the din. Then I passed out. When I awoke I had been moved, carried inside, and splayed out upon a sofa. Our captors were interrogating members of the group and the thumping music was gone, replaced by a recording of Gene Autrey singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart", and the sound of a lone mans voice filled the room. He was charming his listeners with old memories of General Electric Theater days and the wonders of the Walker Bulldog T-41 lightweight tank. As I became more coherent I realized that the interrogation was more like a get together and someone was moving around the room with a tray of finger sandwiches and filling snifters from a bottle of Cognac. 'Sherman Oaks' was nowhere to be seen and I was told some years later, from undisclosed senior sources familiar with the events of that evening, that he had been whisked away in a black sedan, driven to the border, and eventually sold to a Mexican crime family in Tijuana. But I can't verify that.
But thats not important. What really captured my attention that evening was the overwhelming physical and emotional attraction I felt to the charismatic leader who had led the invasion of our humble beach on that evening so long ago. And that man was Ronald Wilson Reagan, the man behind the voice that stood above the rest.
Commander Reagan told us of his romantic lifelong love affair with his wife Nancy and of his fondness for horses and Barbara Stanwyck's performance with Robert Young in "Runaway Daughter". And he explained to us his plan to shift a greater proportion of the property tax burden to lower and middle income Americans so that they too can once again feel as though they are making a valuable contribution to the American dream. He spoke of great shining cities high on hill tops and filled with shimmering durable consumer goods purchased on limitless credit; and rocket ships that fire spacebased laser beams at commie spy machines zooming wildly about in the heavens above; and he told us how he and Nancy and Barry Goldwater had each won gold medals at the summer Olympic games in Innsbruck Austria in 1954, soundly defeating the Soviet gymnastics team once and for all and for evermore. Uh, I don't think that last part was entirely accurate, but who cares, he was such a nice guy, and so optimistic. Does it really matter if any of it really happened exactly like that or not? No, I don't think it does, because, he was soooo optimistic. And he could tell a funny joke and then just fall asleep on a dime. He had complete command of the world around him and everyone in it. Especially me. And he was sooo optimistic. I never did learn if he was the one who thwacked me in the coinkidink with his red pool noodle that night but I like to think he was. Even if I have to pretend.
******
Isn't history something? Of course, if you were not homeschooled inside of a Ferrolum lead clad steel air filter in East Texas like I was then you probably have little knowledge of the many many true facts which constitute the Reagan Legacy. And that's why I'm here. To help you learn.
NEXT ISSUE: The Contras. So misunderstood, yet sooo optimistic.
End Notes:
Col. Rhett Ralston later went on to be a successful partner in a cat food canning and manufacturing company located near Vail, Colorado. Sadly he was gunned down by a crazy woman from Bradenton, Florida brandishing an assault weapon who claimed she was reduced to eating cat food to survive and ultimately driven mad by the experience. She also claimed to be the illegitimate love child of Mathew Cvetic - but no one believed her. The 'Col. Rhett Ralston III Catamaran Marina' on Catalina Island was so named in his honor.
General Norman Lear and his leftist insurgents were eventually driven from Southern California and forced to retreat to a small island off the coast of Cape Cod, Massachusetts where they remain in hiding to this day.
Gene Autrey went on to record many more cowboy songs and appear in movie pictures with his little darlin' Mary Lee.
On August 3, 1959 - Vice President Richard Nixon and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev debated each other on the set of a model American kitchen during an exhibition in Moscow.
Ace pilot Bob 'Beverly Hills' Dornan went on to crash three military jets, one helicopter, and a 150HP Simplicity ride on lawn mower and was subsequently driven from political office by angry mobs and sold to a crime family in Fairfax county Virginia.
On March 7, 1974 - Ronald Reagan, responding to the Symbionese Liberation Army's ransom request of free food for the poor, remarked: "Its just too bad we can't have an epidemic of botulism" (whatever that means), which further angered the crazy woman from Bradenton, Florida, and made many people at the Ralston Cat Food Company very nervous.
June 2004 - 'Popular Mechanics' magazine was officially renamed 'Popular Reaganics'.
On August 26, 2004 - Andrew Sullivan, following a desperate unsuccessful search for a French costume designer from Sherman Oaks, was devoured by sharks while peeing in the ocean off the coast of Cabo San Lucas.
To this very day you can still purchase red pool noodles for your children to play with in the swimming pool or backyard. Now made of harmless atomic age Styrofoam-like stuff these red pool noodles are a pleasant reminder of a bygone era as well as remarkable facsimiles of the very same red pool noodle assault weapons Ronald Reagan and Col. Rhett Ralston carried onto that beach in Onofre, California those many many years ago.
------
Historical documentation above was originally published by Corrente, "Everything's Coming Up Reagan - Introducing the Ronald Wilson Reagan Heroic Legacy Story Project." - Thursday, June 10, 2004.
*
Many Americans won't remember the great contributions Ronald Reagan made to our nation. Many were too young to remember. Many were too old. Many were either too old or too young but won't remember in any case because they simply can't remember much of anything in the first place. They couldn't even tell you, to this very day, who it is that straddles the coin operated horsy ride in the current White House. "George W. Bush?" they will ask, "why he's that feller who sells that cheap canned beer, ain't he?" Sigh.But I remember Ronald Reagan, the great legacy, the heroic derring do, the swashbuckling naval sea battles off the coast of Grenada, adventurous safaris spent pursuing the woolly mammoth herds across the Great Plains of Indiana, balmy tropical mornings devoted to clearing trumpet vine with beloved world leaders such as General Efrain Rios Montt, or sharing a ketchup sandwich and a bowl of chewy colorful jellified candy beans with a needy mujahideen freedom fighter. Oh yes, those were hallelujah days my fellow citizens, days of moral clarity and chivalrous regal splendor. Lacquered bygone days of yesteryear that I'd like to return you to once more.
Therefore I have prepared a retrospective of bold and resolute leadership moments from the life and times of Ronald Wilson Reagan. I myself was raised by devout Christian conservative Republicans and larn'd in Wyoming where I attended a humble one room homeschool located at the bottom of a Christian uranium mine just north of Whiskey Gap and southwest of the Rattlesnake Hills. So I know a lot about stuff that they won't tell you about in the cultural Marxist public schools.
One of the most well known of the little known facts about Ronald Reagan is this: He was one of the American heroes who helped liberate the islands and quaint fishing villages of Southern California's Gulf of Catalina coastal waters. Isles and towns and hamlets liberated from ferocious Sandinista Naval forces and PFAW leftist insurgents commanded by the brutal anti-American way strongman General Norman "Sitcommunist" Lear. If it hadn't been for Ronald Wilson Reagan and his trusted allied war buddy Col. Rhett Ralston III (depicted lower left in the historic PR magazine cover painting), many of the major defense contractors and excellent beach front real estate small mom and pop business investment opportunities now flourishing in freedoms splendor along Southern California's God fearing freedom loving Protestant shores would not be with us today.
Few have heard of Col. Ralston but he was one tough marble and a fearless defender of western Christian values and the honor of chaste young women. In this painting we are captivated by that moment, in the late afternoon hours, just prior to the full scale beachhead landing and liberation of San Clemente, when Col. Rhett Ralston III unzips his pants fly to pee upon one of the many thirty foot long man eating sharks circling the very spot where he and his buddy Commander Ronald Reagan wade in four and a half feet of dangerous man eating shark infested waters off Onofre Beach. Thats how tough he was. He could pee on the Devil underwater.
Commander Reagan is depicted, at right, signaling the pilot of the resupply plane (Ace fighter pilot Bob Dornan, aka: 'Beverly Hills Bob'), as it drops red personal assault pool noodles to the special forces assault commandos waiting to move ashore. Highly absorbent, yet buoyant, and weighing nearly seventy pounds each when fully saturated with sea water, these stealthy and flexible space age polymer enemy personnel battering batons could be easily floated ashore with a man and then used to force open the doors of beachside bungalows harboring liberal funded reefer crazed National Endowment for the Arts supporters or to break up feminazi eco-terror environmentalist networks operating clandestinely up and down the coast from Laguna Beach to Oceanside.
A young homosexual immigrant from old Europe remembers the liberation of Onofe Beach. That young immigrant is today none other than author, journalist, weblog giant and respected conservative homosexual foreigner Andrew Sullivan. Listen in as Andrew recounts for us those historic events on that fateful day in Southern California those many many years ago:
[Onofre Beach | the Gulf of Catalina | many many years ago]
It was just before sunset and a group of us gay blokes had assembled at a residence along the beach to listen to loud thumping subversive music and exchange unnatural sexual favors with an aging French costume designer from Sherman Oaks. Then, just before dusk, we heard a low guttural groan from the direction of the ocean. Several of us scampered onto the deck overlooking the sand and what we saw left us frightened and distressed, yet, at the same time, utterly enthralled. For striding straight ahead in our direction, up the beach from the waters edge, were perhaps a half dozen large strapping virile men, dark khaki weekender shirts open to mid abdomen, heaving muscular chests and hairy backs straining against the weight of their soaking garments and gear, each cradling his own huge wet red personal assault pool noodle before him as he advanced toward us in the quickening twilight. It was an ungodly sight to see, let me tell you, and one young man to my left began muttering "oh mercy me, oh mercy me!" and then fainted in a heap on the deck planks. Others began frantically rushing about arranging chaise loungers and lighting bayberry candles and fussing with the Japanese lanterns that swung from the arbors above the fray. It was very confusing and events were unfolding rapidly and the last thing I can recall before the swaggering marauders overran our position was Mr. 'Sherman Oaks' appearing in the doorway wearing nothing but a pair of women's' circa 1960's white go-go boots and a tangerine bolero jacket with little round silver bells sewed to the sleeves. Then, all manner of chaos broke loose.
As I said, it was very confusing and there was a great deal of noise and yelling and general altogether excitement as the invaders clamored up the boardwalks and onto the patio. The thumping subversive music and overpowering odor of cocoa oil, suntan lotion, Mennen skin bracer, and burning bayberry scented wax filled the air with a sickly madness. Screeching feminazi environmentalists were fleeing across the dunes in the distance and sweaty deeply tanned men were running here and there and some were squealing and some screaming like little girls do when a spider crawls up their stocking and others were grunting savagely as the scary handsome men from the ocean poked and prodded them with their huge swollen red assault noodles and the music went thump thump thump and the waves in the sea went crash crash crash.
At some point I was thwacked up side me coinkidink with a fully engorged noodle and rolled over onto a rubber air mattress where I lay exhausted and panting like a swamped tuna. The last thing I recall hearing was the jingling of little bells moving farther and farther off into the din. Then I passed out. When I awoke I had been moved, carried inside, and splayed out upon a sofa. Our captors were interrogating members of the group and the thumping music was gone, replaced by a recording of Gene Autrey singing "Let Me Call You Sweetheart", and the sound of a lone mans voice filled the room. He was charming his listeners with old memories of General Electric Theater days and the wonders of the Walker Bulldog T-41 lightweight tank. As I became more coherent I realized that the interrogation was more like a get together and someone was moving around the room with a tray of finger sandwiches and filling snifters from a bottle of Cognac. 'Sherman Oaks' was nowhere to be seen and I was told some years later, from undisclosed senior sources familiar with the events of that evening, that he had been whisked away in a black sedan, driven to the border, and eventually sold to a Mexican crime family in Tijuana. But I can't verify that.
But thats not important. What really captured my attention that evening was the overwhelming physical and emotional attraction I felt to the charismatic leader who had led the invasion of our humble beach on that evening so long ago. And that man was Ronald Wilson Reagan, the man behind the voice that stood above the rest.
Commander Reagan told us of his romantic lifelong love affair with his wife Nancy and of his fondness for horses and Barbara Stanwyck's performance with Robert Young in "Runaway Daughter". And he explained to us his plan to shift a greater proportion of the property tax burden to lower and middle income Americans so that they too can once again feel as though they are making a valuable contribution to the American dream. He spoke of great shining cities high on hill tops and filled with shimmering durable consumer goods purchased on limitless credit; and rocket ships that fire spacebased laser beams at commie spy machines zooming wildly about in the heavens above; and he told us how he and Nancy and Barry Goldwater had each won gold medals at the summer Olympic games in Innsbruck Austria in 1954, soundly defeating the Soviet gymnastics team once and for all and for evermore. Uh, I don't think that last part was entirely accurate, but who cares, he was such a nice guy, and so optimistic. Does it really matter if any of it really happened exactly like that or not? No, I don't think it does, because, he was soooo optimistic. And he could tell a funny joke and then just fall asleep on a dime. He had complete command of the world around him and everyone in it. Especially me. And he was sooo optimistic. I never did learn if he was the one who thwacked me in the coinkidink with his red pool noodle that night but I like to think he was. Even if I have to pretend.
Isn't history something? Of course, if you were not homeschooled inside of a Ferrolum lead clad steel air filter in East Texas like I was then you probably have little knowledge of the many many true facts which constitute the Reagan Legacy. And that's why I'm here. To help you learn.
NEXT ISSUE: The Contras. So misunderstood, yet sooo optimistic.
End Notes:
Col. Rhett Ralston later went on to be a successful partner in a cat food canning and manufacturing company located near Vail, Colorado. Sadly he was gunned down by a crazy woman from Bradenton, Florida brandishing an assault weapon who claimed she was reduced to eating cat food to survive and ultimately driven mad by the experience. She also claimed to be the illegitimate love child of Mathew Cvetic - but no one believed her. The 'Col. Rhett Ralston III Catamaran Marina' on Catalina Island was so named in his honor.
General Norman Lear and his leftist insurgents were eventually driven from Southern California and forced to retreat to a small island off the coast of Cape Cod, Massachusetts where they remain in hiding to this day.
Gene Autrey went on to record many more cowboy songs and appear in movie pictures with his little darlin' Mary Lee.
On August 3, 1959 - Vice President Richard Nixon and Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev debated each other on the set of a model American kitchen during an exhibition in Moscow.
Ace pilot Bob 'Beverly Hills' Dornan went on to crash three military jets, one helicopter, and a 150HP Simplicity ride on lawn mower and was subsequently driven from political office by angry mobs and sold to a crime family in Fairfax county Virginia.
On March 7, 1974 - Ronald Reagan, responding to the Symbionese Liberation Army's ransom request of free food for the poor, remarked: "Its just too bad we can't have an epidemic of botulism" (whatever that means), which further angered the crazy woman from Bradenton, Florida, and made many people at the Ralston Cat Food Company very nervous.
June 2004 - 'Popular Mechanics' magazine was officially renamed 'Popular Reaganics'.
On August 26, 2004 - Andrew Sullivan, following a desperate unsuccessful search for a French costume designer from Sherman Oaks, was devoured by sharks while peeing in the ocean off the coast of Cabo San Lucas.
To this very day you can still purchase red pool noodles for your children to play with in the swimming pool or backyard. Now made of harmless atomic age Styrofoam-like stuff these red pool noodles are a pleasant reminder of a bygone era as well as remarkable facsimiles of the very same red pool noodle assault weapons Ronald Reagan and Col. Rhett Ralston carried onto that beach in Onofre, California those many many years ago.
Historical documentation above was originally published by Corrente, "Everything's Coming Up Reagan - Introducing the Ronald Wilson Reagan Heroic Legacy Story Project." - Thursday, June 10, 2004.
*
