Lights, cameras, inaction.
Comedy gold, the yahooligans down at Malheur National Wildlife Refuge and Half-wit Cowboy Training Academy.
Watching these walking rump roasts stumble around before a small cadre of justifiably disgruntled journos last week called to mind an old concert line from the late, great honky-tonk singer Hoyt Axton, recounting his supercharged reaction to extreme overconsumption of an illicit drug:
“I felt like saving the universe. But I couldn’t find anything attacking it. So I decided to attack it and save it from myself!”
The heavily armed, knockoff-Stetson militia is exercising every man’s God-given, Constitutional right to produce his own Carhartt-sponsored disconnection-from-reality show, until certain demands are met. These include:
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• A month’s supply of snacks, preferably of the smoked-meat variety.
• A quitclaim deed for all public lands west of the Mississippi.
• Lee Greenwood boxed sets, all around.
• Twelve sets of truck nuts (aluminum is OK, brass preferred).
• A promise from Netflix to pick up the long-awaited third season of Hee Haw.
• A presidential pardon and safe passage to a charter flight to Branson, Mo.
Stay sharp, boys. If you sit there long enough, something’ll eventually come to get you.
More reverse evolution:
Prediction: Inspired by the Malheur Malcontents’ bold blow for … something, a group of ticked-off ranchers from Tonasket will occupy and hold an outhouse in the Okanogan-Wenatchee National Forest, for “as long as it takes” to get some two-ply.
Locked, Loaded, Etc.: Good success has been reported at razor clam digs along Washington’s coast. Get ’em while you can, folks, before the tyrannical federal government clamps down with mandatory background checks for clam-gun purchases. (Thanks, Obama.)
Speaking of Mass Paranoia: Um, Anderson Cooper: You might not be the only one who “knows a lot of people who really believe” that the federal government is poised to take away the nation’s tens of millions of firearms. You’re just the only one dumb enough to admit it on national television.
Meanwhile, Down Under: The tunnel borer Bertha actually crept forward about 75 feet last week. The spectacular progress was trumpeted by DOT officials, who said it’s now only a few hundred feet away from its next scheduled, mystifying breakdown.
Super Max, Here He Comes: Consensus is building that recaptured Mexican drug lord Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman is destined for the one prison system he won’t be able to escape: ours. This makes Mr. Wrap all verklempt. Everybody has to be good at something, and nobody does prison like America, the world’s lone incarceration superpower.
Dawg Gone: Such a shame, the moving-on of Scott “November Night Games” Woodward, U-Dub athletic director. You can’t blame the guy for job-shopping around: $700,000 a year ain’t what it used to be, especially in Montlake.
Special Note to Twitter Users: Unless it includes specific information about a large meteor hurtling in our specific direction, please don’t insult us by labeling a feature story about, say, an athlete’s struggle to overcome bubble-gum addiction, as a “must-read.”
And Finally: Congrats to serial records requester Timothy Clemans, who has single-handedly lowered the bar for not having a life by filing tens of thousands of random public-records requests.