IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY: LXXIX - Bang Bang Who Shot Me Down Like An Un-Licensed Dog
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY: LXXIX - Bang! Bang! Who Shot Me Down like an Un-licensed Dog !
IF ever I had a country, a country certainly
not subject to the whistle of a Woman Referee -- even of a Video Assistant Referee - where bullets whistle supersonic from trigger-happy automatic weaponry
And if ever I were called upon by common consent
of the House of Reps, the Senate and the Chief Executive - yes all three - to take into my sole healing hands the duty of imposing SILENCE in the pistol-packing « bang-bang » Land of the Free
I would first and foremost send a Special Envoy - well-trained in the art of extracting gold from rotten teeth - to persuade the Nobel Committee (with besides a caveat to pressure the Swedish PM and Chief Justice from issuing a « non-ingérence » edict) to stay forthwith the conferment of the Nobel Prize to authors and poets for a century (writers who in any case would have secured by attaining their senior age ALL the principal publisher-controlled and mutually-rotated prizes and who would have by that pinnacle-age amassed gigantesque ill-gotten gains through royalties) and instead implore the Nob-Com to let my country have the equivalent in weight of DYNAMITE in the care and production of the Alfred Nobel family
Next, I’ll charter all PAQUEBOTS, such as, the Queen Mary, the Queen Elizabeth - even the newly-salvaged and to be refurbished Titanic - and then I’ll have their hulls loaded and packed to the brim with the Nobel Dynamite, and will I not then appoint ? the fifteen-year-old THUNBERG as the Admiral-of-the-Fleet and will I not let it out ? to ALL 300-million or more gun-owners yearning for some much-needed target practice the right to free-passage on these luxury liners together with their legally-acquired NRA-authorized automatic « man-mowers » — all for the noble cause of annihilating from Europe thick, stumpy teens or hags who block all passages, side-walks, mall-halls, zebra-crossings, railway and airport entrances, y comprise « la plus belle avenue du Monde: les Champs-Elysées » with their "ambling-rambling » gait - for a hard-to-miss target-drilling spree
And then, when the licensed gun-owners trample over one another and their trillion-strong hunting-gear to get on board, all itching-ready to pump molten-lead into bulging, pulpy and thick-tough flesh, I’ll order Admiral Thunberg to set course for GREENLAND under the pretext of getting and honing-in some target practice while sampling the local brand of ICE-CREAM laced with polar-bear and ermine blood, while all 50,000 Danish citizens line the shores to welcome the NRA-supporters with their automatics, I’d issue an ultimatum to His/Her Royal Danish Majesty once the hunting-corps take up strategic positions on Danish iced-soil to SELL the ISLE for less than 10% of the sum offered by Harry TRUMAN after WWII or ELSE face up to the aurora borealis detonation - through remote satellite control - of solid Swedish Nobel dynamite and face up to the fury of my NRA-Army
YES, Siree ! That’s what I’d do if ever I were appointed the SOLE REFEREE by Congressional decree
And this, even if I never ever had no country ruled by the moule à gaufre/waffle iron of mighty musketry
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, August 17, 2019
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2019
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