By Susan Bankston
Republican presidential nominee (cringing already, aren’t you?) Chris Christie is campaigning in New Hampshire this month, where he barely speaks the language.
Christie was asked a question about which bathrooms transgender children should use. He, of course, didn’t have an answer, so he changed the topic from transgender children to terrorism while he searched with both hands and a compass for an answer. He never found that sucker. I don’t know what topic he was going to try to change the question to next, but I’d be willing to bet that it involved a recipe.
Christie’s final answer was that the threat of terrorism makes life “confusing enough” for children without adding transgender bathrooms to the mix.
So his answer is that we can’t have transgender bathrooms, because it’ll confuse children.
You know what else is confusing for children?
Math. Math is confusing for children.
Children are also confused about . . .
• Who the real Miss Universe actually is.
• How that whole bedtime thing works.
• If schlong is an actual Yiddish word.
• Why the hell that governor closed my bridge when I needed to go to the bathroom. Any bathroom at all.
You know what’s confusing? First they make you get out of a diaper and pee into a pot of water—and I’m not sure if it really is water because they go crazy if you drink it—and then they get all paranoid about who’s going to see you pee, even though they changed your diaper in front of God, Kim Jung Il, and the entire front line of the Houston Oiler cheerleaders. And while dogs can just pee outside, it’s against deed restrictions when I do it. That’s really confusing.
The only other conclusion we can come to about Christie’s answer is that he believes transgender bathrooms are comparable to terrorism. You know, maybe second place after terrorism, but still right up there.
Now tell me who’s confused about stuff.
I do have good news, however, about a new product that just made life a whole lot simpler. Tin-foil hats.
Yep. Simpler. You know how you get tired of wearing tin foil on your head to keep Barack Obama and his secret fleet of satellites from reading your mind or implanting horrible ideas in your head—like “Please use good table manners”? Tired of those satellites beaming liberal ideas at you, like “Jim Bob, you don’t need no damn AK-47. You need to pay the light bill with that money”?
Tired of Bill Gates sending messages through your computer screen? Tired of being assaulted by Rachel Maddow’s voice coming through your teevee with startling clarity even when you’re passed out drunk on the couch?
Up until now, the only answer has been to openly wear tin foil on your head. But that is such a distraction during deer season or at your wedding.
Here is your fashion-forward answer: Shield Apparel has come up with a gimme hat that will—and I’m quoting from their advertising campaign—“help people protect their brain waves from Big Brother and look cool while doing it with Signal Proof Headwear.”
I think their definition of cool is as broad as Aunt Ethel’s butt.
It looks like a regular baseball cap, but it has tin foil inside. (The hat, not Aunt Ethel’s butt.) You cannot make one of these at home because . . . well, because the boys at Shield Apparel need some money.
Here’s my question. If craziness cannot get into this hat, is the opposite true? Can the crazy that’s in there not get out? Look, if that’s the deal, I’m buying these by the crate and heading to a Donald Trump rally and the Texas governor’s office.
The way I see it, all that tin inside a hat will probably act as an echo chamber so the Texas governor can hear himself talking, for maybe the first time ever. He’s gonna be mortified at some of the bullcorn coming out of his mouth.
One last thing: several months ago I told you about a South Carolina congressman who claims that the employee hand-washing signs you see in bathrooms were proof that the government has too much control, so states need to start seceding. And after reading about Open Carry Texas members wanting to openly carry their guns on their hips to go grocery shopping and in mental hospitals, my friend Roger decided to open a no-handwash, open-carry, open-container pizza restaurant. He reckons there’s a market in Texas. He’s gonna call it ClusterF–ky Cheese.
Hope your Valentine’s Day is sweet, hot, and more fun than recess in heaven.
Susan Bankston lives in Richmond, Texas, where she writes about her hairdresser at The World’s Most Dangerous Beauty Salon, Inc., at juanitajean.com.
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