Tie Them Liberals to the Tracks

I hear the train a comin’ rolling ’round the bend

And I ain’t seen trouble like this since I don’t know when.

Get ready, Scranton, Wilkes-Barre, Hazleton and God knows how many dirty little coal patch towns in between. The Trump train’s a coming to a re-election rally near you.

Beer guzzling Johnny Cash fanatics, four-wheelers driving drunk the wrong way down the interstate, SWAT team cops, ex-cops, state cops, local yokel cops, constables, county sheriffs, Secret Service agents past and present, military veterans representing all branches of the service, active duty Marines, soldiers and a bedraggled assortment of mostly redneck American laborers, bartenders, unemployed roofers and other discriminated against white men are prepared to tie you libs to the track and roll over you like a runaway Steamtown locomotive.

To take back America, that’s why! To make America great again! To shoot before they see the whites of your eyes.

Hold your fire, men.

Did I say shoot?

That’s right, son.

These new American revolutionaries ain’t playing.

Even hot-wired on Wild Turkey and two-step dancing in new work boots these boys get teary-eyed expressing their love of God, guns and guts, willing to pay any price to save all three. Barbecue, beer and freedom go together better than any Tinkerbell trio of drag show performers at the human relations commission annual summer picnic.

The New Breed (which sounds like a fitting name for the armed citizen revolutionary guards Trump will assemble from sea to shining sea if he wins a glorious return to the White House) will pick up their machine guns, grenades, semi-automatic rifles, flame throwers, handguns, and deer hunting bows and arrows, take to their used SUVs and pickups to patrol the streets of our nation in one big paramilitary vendetta coming for societal spies, turncoats and informers.

The New Breed don’t need no more corrupt judges like that commie in that Manhattan courtroom. The New Breed will create new order in the court. No Ma’am, the jobs and the courtrooms and military and even the Justice Department now belong to Trump.

Trump! Trump! Trump!

Now we got rare, beef-fed, red-blooded All-American boys and girls leading armed and dangerous local militia battalions ready to round up any and all alphabet soup LGBTQRSTUVWXYZ gays, Black power militants and immigrants with skin darker than the suntan you get on your arm (heavily tattooed with a Marine bulldog, a Confederate flag and a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon) from driving truck with your elbow resting on the window and your white t-shirt sleeve rolled to the shoulder.

That Lee Greenwood song “Proud to be an American” is already the new unofficial national anthem. Georgia peach congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Green is already the new First Lady because, unlike Melania, Marjorie stood by her man.


Love it or leave it!

Forget about Joe Biden’s prissy little Amtrak choo choo train scheduled to head from Scranton to New York so them sissies U.S. Sen. Bob Casey and Congressman Matt Cartwright can Christmas shop and see the Rockettes at Radio City Music Hall.

Lock ‘em up!

Lock ‘em up!

But what if Trump’s locked up?

Don’t think for one stinking second you need patriotic special operations combat vets to free their leader from solitary confinement. Real Americans don’t need a Green Beret, SEAL team or DELTA death squad to blow the prison walls. Enough corrections officers who love Trump no doubt exist inside to sneak Trump out in a laundry truck and drive him directly to the Oval Office with a massive police, military and militia escort and throngs of supporters lining the soon-to-be crime free streets waving Trump flags along the route. This presidential procession will be better than any welcome home parade Vietnam vets didn’t get until it was too late.

But Trump was a draft dodger, wasn’t he?

Don’t you dare even think such subversive blasphemy.

Mr. President Trump was working undercover in a secret CIA classified mission so the North Vietnamese VC would think he was one of them so he could get close enough to Jane Fonda to hit on her Hollywood bones and singlehandedly capture the queen of the feminists by grabbing her by any damn body part he wanted. On his first day back in office Trump will sign a warrant for Fonda’s arrest even though she’s 86.

Lock her up!

Lock her up!

Hillary, too!




You hear that?

The Trump train’s picking up speed!

It’s coming for that scrappy kid from Scranton!

Corn Pop can’t save you now, Joe Biden.