CHAOS ON PERDIDO KEY

Pensacola's Grim Reaper was almost attacked by this pear shaped MAGA loser yesterday in Jacksonville, which is the location for the great GOP DEATH CULT convention in August. It was reported that fat boy now has a GoFundMe page for the mental anguish he experienced while confronting what he thought was an actual visitor from the afterlife who was also spouting anti-Trump rhetoric. #FloridaMoron

People from other states that are neck and neck with Florida in the Great COVID-19 Spiking Rate Race, started descending upon Perdido Key and Pensacola like locusts fueled on amphetamines on Friday. Lured by the enticing white sandy beaches, aqua blue water, blackout drinking, and the thought of ogling big breasted coeds as they frolic in the waves in their red, white, and blue MAGA bikinis....like this:     

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When most likely it's going to be this:

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Texas small penis compensation 4-wheelers  in particular are quite prevalent. Texas, of all fucking places. The governor there has recently signed in an order to make the wearing of masks there mandatory. 

Even when you're out the prairie guarding the flock, all lonely, you've drank too many Lone Stars, you're still moping about that whore in Abilene that shit on you two years ago, and you wind up screwing a sheep.

 I know. It happens to the best of us. But in Texas you still have to wear a mask. Especially if it's a Brokeback Mountain kind of situation. Be safe! Better don a rubber, too!

But there's no reason to piss and moan any longer. You'd have to be retarded to think at this stage of the game that anyone in the government from Putin's fluffer* all the way down to the poor son of a bitch that has to clean the local courthouse crappers gives two shits about anyone dying in this global dumpster fire. Insanely, the pandemic and the wearing of masks has become just a total political issue in a vain attempt to re-elect the Nation's Comrade.

  

The Commissar of Perido Key, suddenly reeling from the audacity of the morally weak people of his district getting sick and possibly dying, has jumped on the Trump train with the idiotic suggestion that the only reason we have a world wide pandemic is because more people are getting tested....and dying!! 

Weak bastards!

So the great and powerful Oz must speak out to warn his "flock."

Worry no more! The Commissar has assured us that it's good for you to test positive for a potentially fatal disease. It's good for the community! It's good for the herd! So quit your fucking bitching. Live with the virus. The White House message of the day of the day should inspire you. 'WE NEED TO LIVE WITH IT!"

But the Commissar had bigger fish to fry. There was chaos a brewing on the Key

An anonymous source reported early this morning that the Commissar was awoken in his lair on River Road by a phone call from a employee of Circle-K...a gas station that not only sells fuel but trucker's speed, cheap beer, cigarettes, lotto tickets, beach shit for the dolts, condoms of all kinds, and has bathrooms filthier than a North Korean prison...who reported that he'd been kicked in the nuts and zip tied to a gas pump while 4 men wearing Bernie Sander's hats and t-shirts put this sign up on this the front of the building.

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He immediately placed a call to the Head Constable of Escambia County. A fancy boy who favored Noriega like uniforms...

...and who had his Andy Warhol 15 minutes of fame when a mentally challenged group of self styled Ninjas whacked a former strip club owner and used car salesman, along with his wife. Went off like a charm except they took the wrong safe and everybody dropped a dime on each other and wound up in either in Raiford or death row blowing gangbangers for smokes. For some reason this case drew national attention even though it's not uncommon to get blown away in Pensacola on any given day. 

Years ago, I met the Constable at Gallery Night. I was buzzing on some Peyote and all the box wine you could drink that was provided by the galleries. He was wearing a Morty Seinfeld raincoat and was carrying a goddamn umbrella! He jammed an election button in my hand...pin first...as he walked among his minions. Not exactly Buford Pusser. 

 *Simulated phone call*

Phone ringing: 🔔🔔🔔🔔🔔

There's a fumbling of the phone followed by a coughing jag that sound like the Constable is gagging up a hairball.

"Hello, and this better be fucking good, jughead!"

"Constable! Commissar! There's chaos on the Key!"

"Oh, Christ! Do I have to drive all the way over there to wipe your ass? Did you run over another beach mouse."

"Sir, no, Sir! Someone put up a vulgar sign totally misrepresenting our Leader and it will most likely require a thorough and intense investigation. Possibly call the FBI."

"I already told you there won't be any tickets given to any tourists for parking and there will be practically zero law enforcement presence. So you got what you want. Now get your ass out of bed, got tear down the sign, and post one of those stupid Facebook postings saying it was terrorists or tyrants or whatever big word you can find in the dictionary. I have to give a big presentation on drug problems in Pensacola to the all the heads of the school districts today and how we're dealing with it. So don't call me back. I don't give a crap if your head's on fire!"

"Sir, yes,"...phone clicks.

A tear!

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HAPPY 4TH!!

Mahalo

 *A fluffer is a person employed to keep a porn performer's penis erect on the set. After setting up the desired angle, the director asks the actors to hold position and calls for the fluffer to "fluff" the actors for the shot.