Deep State of Confusion

Marjorie Taylor Greene is no stranger to paranoia.

Oh y’all, the Deep State has finally gone jim-dandy deep. Congress-critter Marjorie Taylor Greene (who represents the part of Georgia that favors marriage between relatives) thinks her teevee is spying on her. Let me quote her own words on Twitter:

Last night in my DC residence, the television turned on by itself and the screen showed someone’s laptop trying to connect to the TV.

She goes on to add that she is very happy, and that she eats well, doesn’t smoke, and doesn’t take any medicine. And of course, she is not vaccinated, so she’s therefore “not concerned about blood clots, heart conditions, strokes, or anything else.”

I dunno for sure, but I think she’s trying to tell us she could wake up dead and it wouldn’t be her fault.

But there’s more. After her true confessions, Marjorie claims she doesn’t have anything to hide, and then adds this flourish:

I just love my country and the people and know how much they’ve been screwed over by the corrupt people in our government and I’m not willing to be quiet about it, or willing to go along with it.

Well that would be really nice, except that she is “the corrupt people in our government.” 

To be frank, I am not overly concerned about being spied on through my teevee. I generally do not sit naked in front of it, smoking dope while trying to hack into the IRS on my laptop. I know this sounds suspicious, but when I’m sitting in front of my teevee, I’m usually just watching a show.

Now, make no mistake: I have also seen some weird things on my teevee. Zombies are real, and so is Florida Governor Ron DeSantis. Both of them rate about even on the scare-the-crap-outta-you scale.

In addition, I also have appliances in my house that spy on me.  For example, I have a pint of Blue Bell ice cream in my freezer that, out of the clear blue, will call me by name in this pitiful yet seductive voice. It won’t stop calling me until I put a few scoops of Blue Bell in a bowl, and then it’s downhill from there.

My dryer also hollers at me. If I have company in my house, it just buzzes loudly. But if I’m alone, it clearly beckons, “Come take these damn clothes out of me before I wrinkle them up faster than a knife fight in a phone booth.” 

And sometimes my toilet will gurgle at me annoyingly: “Now! Come jiggle this handle right now, Susan.” How the toilet knows my name, I don’t know. But I suspect there’s some kind of government DNA analysis involved.

Inspired by Ms. Taylor Greene, I will now share my deepest secrets with you: I am happy, but only if I’m getting my way. I am overweight because of, well, that Blue Bell thing for one. And also because the most interesting talks I’ve had, with people that I like, usually happen over a plate of cheese enchiladas. And, like Willie, I no longer smoke but I do enjoy the edibles, my friend. I am fully vaccinated, even against polio, so I worry about everything: rare tropical diseases the doctors have never heard of, or falling and not being able to get up (in spite of the lady on the teevee telling me I need to buy some damn gadget that calls 911).

I am 76 years old, and my heart rate, blood flow, and brain are all in working order today. Who the hell cares how long they are going to last? I figure they’ve worked so far, so don’t you agree that I’m already way ahead of the game?

I have found that when I hear all these strange voices around the house, a simple “Shuddup, bitch!” works a whole lot better than going on Twitter and making a national issue out of it.

When you go to bed tonight, please take the time to thank God that you’re not whoever it is that Marjorie Taylor Greene thinks is spying on her.

Until next month, Darlin’, it’s hotter than the bedsheets at those motels that rent by the hour, so drink plenty of water, and if all else fails, go sit in your refrigerator. And remember that you’re made out of magic and resilience, so act accordingly.

FB Comments

Susan Bankston

Susan Bankston lives in Richmond, Texas, where she writes about her hairdresser at The World’s Most Dangerous Beauty Salon, Inc., at juanitajean.com.
Check Also
Back to top button