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Gen. Trump's Southern Strategy

The Huffington Post The Huffington Post 11/03/2016 Carol Caldwell
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A rootie toot toot, A rootie toot toot. We are the boys from the Institute. We don't vote and we don't move and we don't mess with the donks who do. A rootie toot toot, A rootie toot toot. Trump got loose from the Institute. The inmate's out to rabblerout, and now we're screwed without a doubt.
It appears that the Republican southern strategy, cooked up in order to frontload Romney's nomination in 2012 has backfired on the old Kentucky Colonel, Speaker/Majority Leader McConnell. Hidee hidee hidee ho. Laughing all along the Mason and Dixon line--look away! Way down yonder in the Land of Cotton. What happy sport to cheer the end of his party's long overdue decimation. Col. McConnell's solid south, his confederacy of dunces, can now be redubbed the Know Nothings. They've been hard at it since l964. Fifty-two years of connivin', contrivin', vote-blockin', gerrymanderin' all over our gullible, cullable South. And now, they're stuck with us! Their buck-tooth, cross-eyed, red-headed step chirren, just when they thought they had us right where they wanted us. In their fleece-lined money grubbing gunny sack.
From the glory days of AuH2O+64=Victory through Tricky Dick again and again, to the sainted Ronald Reagan, along with his CIA chief and V.P., ole Skull and Bones, George Herbert Walker Bush and his disaster waiting to happen, George W., born again Chrishchen who had to have an even more supreme power to bless him with the presidency--yep. They got old Dixie in the do-rag bag. And by dang, we delivered.
What is it in our make-up that makes us such a reliable, dumbfounded juggernaut? The Commentary Class has taken to calling us the SEC states. Whether they comprehend the beauty of this catch-all, I don't know. What I do know is when you get a stadium full of 30,000 teenagers and alums together week after week, well. Look at it this way: these people are liable to get plastered, pie-eyed, buzzed, bombed, twisted, blistered, head-bangin', knee-walkin' drunk...they are loaded, totaled, discombobbulated, snockered, deep-fried and blow-dried, whacked, thwacked, rode-hard and put up wet--and when you get 'em all together like that, why, you can count on long-term brain damage. Let's put it down where the cats can get at it: nobody does it better than the Universities of Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, Arkansas, Tennessee, North and South Carolina, Virginia, Florida and yes, home of the Great Naysayer his own self, the University of Kentucky.
But the joke is on y'all. Up there in your burnt out rust belts and fancy pants ivy leagues, because believe you me, Br'er Fox always gets the last laugh. Y'all thought when Civil Rights came down that the South would become more like you--more forward thinking, more reasonable. What actually happened is y'all became more like us--bass-ackward! It wasn't just that you people got fed up with being snowblown and icebound and moved down here in droves, as did your companies and plants, but is was also that you discovered there was still a vestige of courtesy and kindness down here, hospitality and graciousness, god knows how, good manners and eccentric senses of humor, honesty now and then and even neighborliness. KISS ALL THAT GOODBYE!
Too bad you sicced this rabid carpetbagger on us. This rude, crude Yankee snake oil salesman who gets off on eliciting the inner lyncher out of any assembly, anywhere in the country. Who calls out the Razorback and Gator, Gamecock and Bulldog in any drunken sot thanks to your candidate's upfront pugilisticness...go you crafty Pachiderms! And by the way, shame on all you sick pretenders on stage who didn't have the decency to just say no when asked if you'd get behind that sorry bastard. Nancy Reagan would be appalled.

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