I had not thought death had undone so many.
Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St. Paul
Give me Christ or give me Hiroshima
Destroy another fetus now
We don’t like children anyhow
I’ve seen the future, baby
It is murder
– – — Leonard Cohen
In Chico, the Saturday Downtown Farmers Market does attract its share of possessed ProgTards peddling their festering palaver around the edges of the market. A few persistent and more politically savvy causes have managed to get tables inside the market, but they are for tiny houses and showers for our ever-expanding drug-addict population. Most of the more demented causes stay at the edges of the space stifled like those selling contrails as killing machines. Others like the octogenarian-based anti-war group hang out on the Esplanade a block over and get excited when somebody honks.
Not so the Bitch-Driven Kill Children Demon parade this Saturday.
There I was contemplating whether or not to get two or four handmade and most excellent tamales while kids and families strolled by. Off to the left, an itinerant magician amazed a three-year-old with subtle variations of “I’ve Got Your Nose.” Behind me, the nice lady who brings pots of cat grass to the market sold plants from her table and its 3×5 “BLM” sign. It was a calm and good time strolling with my fellow citizens among the flowers, produce, and baked goods.
Suddenly there was a disturbance in the force and looking to the south end of the market I saw those stereotyped sad semi-female demons of barren, angered, shriveled and pussy-whipped wombs forming up for their boring and utterly predictable rant march.
I’ve seen this Parade of the Perpetually Pissed Off Pussies (male, female, LGBTQRSTUVWXYZ, whathave you ). . .
Seen it I say hundreds of times from my junior year in high school on. . .
Make that (seems like) thousands of times.
It was, as were all the others, straight out of the Bolshevik playbook. This Bitch-Driven parade is always led by the paid Antifa-bolsheviks with their bitch-blasting bullhorns followed by a phalanx of the eternally aggravated.
Since Chico is Deep California the chances any bitch in this parade will not be able to use abortion as birth control is somewhere south of absolute zero. The chance that any of them will ever be impregnated by anything more human than a turkey baster is also south of absolute zero. How shameful. How degraded. Cultural madness or Satanic possession. You decide. Either way, they march towards the Pit. Drive them fast to their tomb.
Above, a portly shad roe spotted running behind a wizened rainbow warrior of Lesbos somewhere in her seventh decade of not reproducing.
Faint nose rings and a tufted armpit give strong clues as to the presence of a highly concentrated potentially lethal cloud of patchouli. Then there is the bi-directional trans smothering behind the Joe Biden death mask.
“Abortion is a Woman’s Right Not a Mans” Really? Really, geezerbro? These are the days of pregnant men according to no less an expert on perversions than Calvin Klein. Do try to keep up. Note the man in the hat.
He heard me sing out — just to rile up the demons — the ancient street demonstration chant of [with variations] “Hey, Hey. Ho. Ho. Roe V Wade has got to go!” He turned sputtering with blather and began to raise his hand to me. I gave him a straight look and asked if he was prepared to gargle his nostrils. That confused him too much to continue.
Then he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet