Archie Bunker on Democrats

Amos Hart--Damn Globalists

   
   "Amos Hart--Damn Globalists"
   
   So many meatheads, and so little cows to go around; then, why does America have so many hamburgers?  Where's the beef?  Amos Hart pondered these in-depth questions; moreover, wondered about that guy, the dude who quasi-Kevin Feltner, an inter-dimensional phony from the Draconian forge, arrived simultaneously with deputies; next, lied about it, as were all the medical records from Williamson County full of false testimony save the platinum blood-work; otherwise, the whole platoon of deputies armed and gloved, confronting a man laying beneath his mother, their guns inches away from the granny, and any accident could occur; still, the Virgin Mary saw, and Feltner's head is a permanent speed-bag for her ivory fists, unless he repents and is saved, and the whole system of phony lawyers and deep-state deputies would be wise to follow, on their knees to Christ.
   And the first Bush called them radicals.  Damn Radicals!!!  Then, perniciously puked some Asian food, but can you blame him--have you ever eaten that stuff, especially if they sprinkle a little of the small intestine wiggle within, and chunks can fly regardless of what NASA says, huh?
   OH YEAH!!!  Amos Hart thought to himself.  F-18 gun-camera can't believe.  Too bad nobody else will actually think.  For the chicks are hot and skanky this day, and the blacked-robed pricks have a jury stacked.  Can certain blood-types request only certain blood-types on the jury, as they are their true peers, or would that rig the rigged system in the direction of honesty?
   What happened to honesty?  It saw the dragon's gold.  Not nice to bite the hand that feeds you.  Oh well, Amos knew Santa still had an Orthodox Christmas.  Futurity and time-shifts for high-elves, and the children of all ages they rescue.  Virgin Mary was pleased Her Son was simply a carpenter.  The Craftsman--that's what they called Jesus.  

Amos Hart--Paul Atreides

   
   "Amos Hart--Paul Atreides"
   Muod 'Dib ran, did he; specifically, Amos had told his mother that he wanted to be a survivalist up in Montana when he was in his sophomoric twenties; next, she laughed, told him that he'd never make it; then, he retreated like a tail-dragging coyote up to his northern-placed bedroom, cranking on the tube and unearthing DUNE (the Sci-Fi station mini-series); moreover, he recollected encounters of bullying and people who don't like YOUR dog sometimes; thus, we get a bit gloomy in the glands, tear ducts pour stale wine, and the grape seed extract is taken for many purposes; plus, it's hard to find @ Walgreens, where the check-out Lady spins yarns concerning her time in Finland, and among the Sami, before selling a pack of cheap/drug-store cigars (cherry flavored), and exiting occurs, up in peace pipe smoke, knowing tobacco is the main reason for what they call meditation, which to Amos was prayer.
   Bucko and him took the Olds out.  The 350 Rocket was hungry for prime, and @ TACO BELL did they anchor the granny bought muscle, rumbling up to the parking lot in classic smooth, and finding sanctuary in a dozen tacos between them--dog and man, best pals, cause the Moon wanes, and hearts break, unless the coyote gets stronger, and suburbia is a home to many, and maybe--in peace, and I'm talking actual coyotes--canis latrans.  

Amos Hart--Pious Bastard

   
   "Amos Hart--Pious Bastard"
   
   Amos knew he was a cynic, yet no charlatan, thirsting only after his own pool hall purse, knowing Jesus hung out with Bruce Springsteen types before the rock and roller had money; still, the Boss may not be a bad dude--I don't know him, liking seclusion and the way of a phony ranger, as if the suburbs offer a true camouflage for anything save omnivorous coyotes that are prone to skulk.  
   Amos knew as well:  Every Constellation, including your sign of the Zodiac has planets and stars; plus, moons and more, as if STAR WARS was a mystic's dream, in the genesis, during the 70's, when Carter ruled the roost, and with dignity and truth, doing what he was elected to do, being peaceful and kind; however, war was brewing, and Raygun stepped in, while Amos was trout fishing somewhere in the South-East-Geothirst, never drinking the water which was high in fluoride, yet sharing from Bucko's bowl--his excuse:  He purchased the rock-charged water for his dog--that's what he told the chicks at the pet store, if only to be social, which he was not; next, sweat bullets till a vomit in the alley, thinking maybe they hadn't bathed their corporeal portion, as if only a good set of sniffers make you puke in the sink for no other reason than body odor, but some guys prefer the perfume of girl sweat, yet--not Amos.  Neither did Bucko.  

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Amos Hart--Lazarus

   
   "Amos Hart--Lazarus"
   
   Amos Hart.  Wednesday morning; specifically, a minute past Midnight.  Bucko next to him in bed, where King David mentioned he prayed from sometimes, a man after God's own heart--maybe the prototype for the Sacred Heat?  Awakening.
   When Lazarus died--was it the best day of his life?  Didn't appear so to Jesus.  Shortest verse in the Bible:  "Jesus wept."  Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Holy Mary.  Are NDEs all resplendent?  It doesn't seem so.  Then why the prayer?  Amos knew a guy deemed dead and around 114 pounds in Baptist Hospital in Little Rock.  Guy should've sued the hospital.  Nurse flipped his skeletal body over, saying if she was like him; next, it would be her time to go.  Guy is still alive--twenty years later.  Screw that nurse.  She's no fighter.  Gotta fight for everything God gives you.  Don't let anybody selfishly thieve it away.  Your iron fists however, should not exceed the crime of those that sin against you.  Daniel Rand knows this, him better known as FIST in the 1980's. 
   So, as a journalist with no limitations, Amos knew that everything exists, and just as there is good, so is there evil; plus, neutrality, which doesn't give a rat's ass either way--they might have the coldest of hells if we listen to the rants of Jack Kennedy.  Gotta choose a side.  No wussies.
   Oh well, Amos went back to bed.  Lucidly dreaming of the FBI's corruption, hating Trump, not believing a celebrity is more honest than crooked lawyers thinking the Democratic Party is ushering in another phony Messiah.
   Like Trump told a secretary he hired decades ago:  "Men are better than women; however, a good woman is worth more than an army of men."  

Amos Hart--NDEs

   
   "Amos Hart--NDEs"
   
   Amos Hart couldn't bring himself to pen the prose needed to give life to a deceased man, him having bitched about passing, saying that he had been harassed his entire life by unseen forces; specifically, everybody locks themselves into the world in which they were indoctrinated, and this man was simply a free agent, armed by God with a rare blood type; moreover, many folks possessing such blood tell fantastically freaky stories, and it has been documented by myriads; plus, buried by burdens.
   Amos knew he could throw in many government and military men from Arizona, Canada, everywhere, or even the Pentagon's latest concerns; however, people still live in a 3 Dimensional World, unable to grasp anything more than low frequency, imprisoning others with their tribal mentalities, and even stealing the Spirit of Christmas, which is that all possibilities exist, if not shackled by negative utterances, not even profane, mind you.
   Too, Amos knew that he loved Bucko.  There was nothing more locked in love and friendship than a dog working on the reward system for a man.  It was simple, as could be all things, but we go into the details where lies reside, and Cinderella still scrubs floors.  
   Amos was just glad it was Christmas, and that one Jewish Man decided to be a Rabble-Rouser, hoping to awaken this planet.  Many call it a prison planet.  Many don't.
   Amos went to Mass.  Bucko sat outside in the Olds.  He enjoyed it.  The best part was the Eucharist.  Touching Jesus, gently.