To illustrate my lack of local awareness, I had no idea Joplin has a Justice Building. The only Justice Building I could think of when first informed that restless natives would gather for a “tea party” was the one associated with Superman & Friends. After a pull of unadulterated V-8 (sound of palm smacking forehead), I remembered that The Man of Steel and his talented posse held their confabs in…the Hall of Justice, duh. Because damp brain neurons no longer spark synapses with rapid-fire regularity, it’s not uncommon for me to confuse a Blackthorn patron with The Green Lantern after lapping up one too many pints. And now that the sun has returned, the chances are swell that I’ll soon engage Wonder Woman for some lubricated beer garden banter. (Her invisible airplane is the cat’s meow for avoiding late-night road blocks). Obviously, DC Comics made more of an impression on me during my misspent youth than Marvel -- although I once played backgammon with Dr. Doom. But that’s another confessional best shared with “Flesh of the Gods” gourmets lurking around The Existentialist Cowboy’s pony pen.
Thanks to Mr. Yellowman’s fierce grip on reality, I’m up to speed on what’s going down on Tax Day. There’s plenty of time to decide on which sign to carry. Attracted to minimalist cardboard graffiti, I like "repent". It’s simple and covers an array of sins committed by later day Templars hell-bent on funding military crusades via Chinese owned IOUs -- an abomination, to be sure. However, there’s the chance waving "repent" might get Old Testament Christians off track. I’d hate to transform ‘grass-roots’ angst against President Obama’s election into an impromptu pogrom against same-sex marriage. No matter how many tea baggers may agree that gay and lesbian couples deserve a good stoning for demanding equal fleecing in divorce court, preserving the sanctity of assault rifle ownership is more in line with what the backers behind ‘spontaneous’ outbreaks of sour grapes have in mind.
My second choice is "pissed". Aside from accurately describing my perennial condition in British pub vernacular, this placard might entice creepy paramilitary types to probe the depths of my gun safe. (A true-blue Wolverine, my choice of weapon is handy pick axe). If boring libertarians think I’m just another put upon contrarian sick and tired of paying for public education, then I’ll opt for my third lettered display and whip out "hydrocodone". Mr. Yellowman believes this sign will tickle dittoheads known for their gamey sense of humor. This assumes that Jopinites sharing their head Mouseketeer’s adolescent fantasies are savvy as to why he has a wire sticking out of his skull. Of course, the risk is high that unsavory characters will badger me for the mother of all back pain medicine if the sign’s message is misperceived as very blatant advertising.
On cue, Madame Rosa wandered in and offered the crystalline solution: kook.
_____________
We’re set to go. The posters are finished and we’ve put together the perfect outfit for a little parking lot revolution:
Plaid Bermuda shorts
I’m with Stupid tee shirts
Calf length white tube socks
Roman sandals
Club Gitmo ball caps
Flask of Old Crow
Umbrellas serve a duel purpose: rain and/or beating back the chicks.
JB
Splendiferous.
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