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Moby, Who? New Rudder… Who Dis?


By Janet Grace

From Galicia to The Strait of Gibraltar, scientists have expressed concern with respect to a pod or two of orcas playing “Monkey in The Middle” with ships. Oh, Yeah! Can you imagine? Pods of orcas RAMMING ships for almost an hour. If they topple your ship, you’re lunch. “I want the one with the bonnet!”

Orcas, the largest of dolphins, enjoyed their tranquility during the world’s quarantine. They are not exactly thrilled having to share their ocean again. They are as smart as we are, and realize: one ship, many orcas. Let’s lightly tap them and see if they get the hint, yes? Let them know that the waters that emerge from their vessels and into our seas are deadly, harmful and will not be tolerated, again. We are many. We are orcas. Plus, we just finished vacuuming and here come these wasteful cretins, bastards, I swear.

Sidebar: And, THAT’S why I’ll snorkel my ass off close to shore. I’ll be the first to admit, I’ll chill by the pier, so I can drop my catch and haul ass, should I spot Godzilla or anyone who resembles him. Unless, it’s Aquaman, then I’ll be all; like: “where (sic) my mirror at?” I just KNOW something “yuge” will be surfacing from out of the depths of whatever the Lemuria is down there and I want no part of it. And where we are at, at THIS point in time? Yeah, Noooo.

Nuh, uh. We’re already PAST the entire bible. The book of revelations had a last sip of wine and was seen sprinting up 5th and Park and possibly sprouting wings. Oh, yeah, I saw it. In fact, I was drinking with him.

We’re beyond all that was said to be. It’s “Make This Sht Up” time, so here’s what I see.

We’re dealing with a very similar situation. We’ve got a blob fish of our own wreaking havoc — an out of control mentally deranged lunatic that had to be placed in a “GTFOH” school because he was so disgusting and insane from birth: no one wanted to deal with him. He’s the filthy ship. The GOP are the seamen and if you asked me, I’d tell you we have enough of a waste of THAT in the GOP, spelled a little differently, though.

This filth of the filth, is who is currently in charge of all of us, because he cheated. He fancies himself to be the “smartest” for being the dirtiest, lowest, waste ever. Hook, crook or fishing pole, he’ll be caught, swept up in the tide and laid to rest every single night in his 10″ x 8″ maximum security cell. Let’s Keep THAT in the front of our minds, as we whistle like the orcas.

This is our Cuco, Boogeyman, listen:

“Covid will be gone with herd mentality.”

Who TF SAYS this sht? Him. He got nervous yesterday. He didn’t have the answers. He was sundowning and that’s what came out of his putrid mouth although he meant to say something else. He must be so pissed at himself, secretly. Good, sry, not sry. 200k+ gone? I’ll say three Act of Contrition’s and spit in his eye. He may as well have said: “COVFEFE! Vote for me, I’ll tell you what it means.” Herd mentality? What? He read that off the toilet paper stuck to his shoe and we’re supposed to believe it, like the time he told us to drink clorox and stick a flashlight where it doesn’t belong — unless you’re Lady G’s proctologist, of course. I hear he uses one of those 12 inch tactical MAG-LIGHTs that takes 29 Duracells, solely for her/him/her/they/crazy/guano, but I digress. Duracell’s will be what we’d ALL be dropping if confronted by a pod of angry orcas. Orcas: one. You: chum.

So, these orcas are as intelligent as (intelligent) humans. Given the strategy they’re using with these ships: ripping rudders off, turning ships around (smmaaart–go back where you came from, human) LIFTING ships OUT of the water (I don’t have enough horror-scream in me for this) leaving sailors barking “MAY DAY” into their walkie talkie thingamabobs — it would seem they’re better strategists than the the dead weight, “lui è matto” (he’s crazy) blobfish we have leading this republic, at the moment, c’est vrai, non? (It’s true, no?)

From what I read and gathered, these actions are highly unusual for these orcas. They’re very social and have been known to follow boats, enjoy tea time with sailors, yet scientists are nodding in agreement that there’s something terribly wrong. They’ve got swordfish with them AND old timey mustaches that swirl!

They’re breaking rudders, spinning boats like basketballs using their fins, disabling the engine, all while whistling Steve Miller Band’s “Jungle Love”. Oh, yeah! They’ve got a whole Philharmonic Orchestra going on. You know they whistle, right? These are Spanish whales, you KNOW they’re whistling.

“Mira! Mermaid! Sup, Baby Boo? I brought you a new hair brush. Look at that fin! Almost as big as mine. Keep growing, Boo! Tell your Ma to call me. I’ll hear it!”

So, there they are … chewing holes at the bottom of boats, ok, maybe not that but do you get how freaking strange this is? I’m making light of it cuz by this time you’re aware I’m terrified of the open seas and if Papa Whale is coming onto land and joining the swim team, I need to know this, post haste, so, don’t mail it.

What if the whales ARE protecting those boats from the bigger thing that’s REALLY responsible? See? Aha! The Krackhead! I mean, Kraken. The first one’s sitting in the Oval Office.

This is a quote from an article posted in The Guardian this past Sunday regarding this phenomena:

“Nick Giles was motorsailing (sic) alone when he heard a horrific bang “like a sledgehammer”, saw his wheel “turning with incredible force”, disabling the steering as his 34ft Moody yacht spun 180 degrees. He felt the boat lift and said he was pushed around without steering for 15 minutes.” [1]

Here’s another from the Author: “Two boats lost part of their rudders, at least one crew member suffered bruising from the impact of the ramming.” [2]

So, folks. We’re clear, this is crazy and the bruised Cry Baby was a man because .. yeah, nuff said.Talk to Betty White. She’ll explain it, but friends of mine, good friends, the best friends, highly intelligent, like no one is more intelligent, have heard musings that Lady G. has now volunteered to go investigate the snitchimacation.

So, Beautiful Resisters, what else can we expect in the less than two months left before we vote for the SOULS of our ever-lovin’ MINDS?

This dark comedy we’re living, where everything is wrong and nothing is funny (except for the blob fish in chips, I mean, in chief) is winding down and soon, we’ll finally be free or so help me, I will find Squeaky Fromme. Apple pickin time is coming. I think I know who I’ll be for Halloween.

So, this Blobfish having nothing left but “herd mentality” is trying his best to trip us up, make us cry, fear, feel hopeless. It’s all a crock of soup. Thank him for making you a WARRIOR, grab the soup, cookies, thank the chefs who made it and keep on strolling.

NOW is the time to run slowly, pace ourselves. We’ve already sprinted into 3.10 years ahead of the initial outcry. Let’s cruise, skip, hop, double-dutch our way to victory and this last lap with ease, cuz there are more orcas than boats.

WE’RE the ones who listened to the experts. We’re the ones in masks. We’re the ones that can hold up the Treasury and blend into the crowd. Wink! Remember that, cuz he’s playing Russian Roulette with us and he’s enjoying it. Notice, he brings out weapons but doesn’t participate. He’s given us plenty of opportunity and we should absolutely use it to:

LAUGH at HIM. He’s a blobfish. We’re the Orcas. (Well, y’all are. I’ll be standing by the pier drinkin’ a cosmo with one hand,waving a perfumed hanky at Aquaman with the other. It’s complicated.)

What if we ROAST HIM, DAILY, LOUDLY, EVERY DAY, EVERY NIGHT 24/7 WITH MEGAPHONES, Mics, Amps, like THAT. This all started with him being humiliated by Obama roasting him, we should end it for him that way too. What do you think? Tweet on, Mates.



[1]. By Susan Smillie for The Guardian. Sept 13th, 2020.

(*) Re-read- Used in solidarity w Miss Bethany Screaming Into The Void, who loves to re-read, re-view, re-watch *at lightning speed, re-tweet and with whom we’ll all be sharing latte’s and Long Island Iced Teas with, when Covid hits the road.

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