Dear America,
I'm am off to infiltrate a local gathering of liberals at the Kenlake Hot August Blues and Barbeque Festival. I hope to dig up some good liberal dirt and expose some liberal conspiracies down there by going deep under cover amongst them. Sadly, there is no series of internet tubes down there from which to post from, at least where I will be, deep in the heart of darkness, infiltrating the bohemian degenerates at the campground.
The bad news is that I may not be able to post for a few days, for reasons weakly comparable to how some elite shootists have to take laxatives and enimas to clear their bowels before going on a mission, this will be my last post until I recover from the hops-induced fog of liberalism I might be called on to overcome this weekend. I hope that won't leave you a'mad-jonesing for the primo hit that is the Rob R. Baron ~ Esquire. Wish me luck.
Anyway, Blues Music is a particularly blasphemous and Big-Labor-promoting kind of music. That might make it the most dangerous form of music known to man. It pretends to reinforce the wages of sin, but it uses the explicit rhythms of depraved sexuality to do so. Bill Clinton played blues on his saxophone. Need I say more?
If I do, it would be that a saxophone is just a little too creepily-phallic for me to be comfortable with watching another man play. His lips up against the the hard reed, slightly softened from the warm rain of his own spit, recieving the luxurious ministrations of his mouth, building up ever faster in tempo until the final "resolution". It is for these reasons that I am almost positive that saxophones are part of some gay or European agenda to destroy our families, no doubt about it. It is almost like it is just calling out "Choose to be Gay! Choose to be Gay!".
In previous years, I have merely spied on the liberals from my yacht out in the Kenlake bay overlooking the amphitheater, with a lot of my fellow Republican Patriots, just to make sure nobody starts singing 'Helter Skelter', or Mick Jagger music and signaling the start of the rioting and looting. Though usually a little tainted by the end of the weekend for my vigilance, I took comfort in that at least I did not have to actually pay money for tickets that would support whatever vices gave those musicians 'The Blues' in the first place.
If blues musicians everywhere would allow me to give them just one single piece of advice it would be these three words: "Stop dating whores." Just Say No. Just by following that one simple rule, 50% of 'The Blues' is exterminated from the earth in ways Rachel Carson couldn't even dream of. But even when the liberals get such advise for free like they like it, and from some of the wisest people on earth, chances are they will still reject it. Pearls before swine and all that.
But at the Hot August Blues Festival, the dryness of the county works to the conservative advantage. Sometimes the musicians are cognigent enough (at least early in the set) to recognize us in the boats for our principled stand, and in that moment of clarity will acknowledge others like me out in the bay. It is almost like whatever good there is left within them is calling out from the dim haze of whiskey, smack, or the killer Michoacan, like the sprite of Hope, whose wing was trapped in Pandora's box when she slammed the lid shut after unleashing all the Evils upon the world. They will say something to the effect of "Hey Everybody out there on the water".
This never seems to go unnoticed by one particularly obnoxious, and obviously inebriated liberal who always at this time seems to yell out "Screw the boat people, they didn't buy any Gosh-Danged tickets!" (edited for family consumption).
However, this year I will be going undercover into the unwashed, sweaty, filthy, secular-music loving, hedonistic hive of liberalism that is the Kenlake Hot August Blues and Barbeque Festival, and I mean deep undercover. I might even 'pretend' to "join in the love train, everybody round the world, join in.." (which is obviously some liberal-clued UN indoctrination anthem). That is, should one of the degenerate liberal performers bust out in that song. And I will be looking for him. Oh yes, I will be looking.
So if you go, be you a liberal hedonist or a backsliding conservative, know that someone is watching, and the stink of sun-bleached liberalism will follow you long after the Marshall stacks have been unplugged and the Corcidan bottles stored in their cases. That is how it should be.
America, I don't care what you can do for me, but I am happy to do this for you. As always, you are welcome.
Your Humble Servant,
Rob R. Baron ~ Esquire
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