The freedom of expression, but if you know that what you intend to express is a f***ing lie, you'd better say that from the get-go, Buster;
The freedom of worship, as long as you don't get up in other peoples' faces with your goofy religious s***;
The freedom from want, and that means not starving to death or living in a cardboard box while the Wall Street types are eating truffle-flavored caviar and living in Taj Mahal knock-offs from the bonuses they make by swindling you out of your money;
The freedom from fear, and the worst fear of all is leaving your family to live in a cardboard box after you sell off every asset you ever accumulated for a tiny fraction of what it will cost to fight your cancer, but you have no choice, since your insurance was pulled as soon as your motherf***ing insurer found out you were sick;
The freedom not to be shot dead by half-wits, demented creeps and/or crazed ideologues, none of whom seem to have any trouble getting hold of a gun these days, thanks to the half-wits, demented creeps and crazed ideologues in Congress and the NRA killers who own them.
--Excerpted from "Badger" Bob Berzerquierre's "37 Freedoms," a reworking of Franklin Roosevelt's famous "Four Freedoms" speech.
I was loading up the last of it when I heard Cope whining to that hillbilly friend of his: "Red, don't go down there. Really, that's a bad idea. Aw Jeez, this isn't good." Then the two of them come stomping down the stairs, one after the other. Cope looked like someone who wasn't sure he'd get to the toilet in time, and the hillbilly looked like he was chewing on something that wouldn't hold still.
"Mister Badger Bob, I got a hair to spit with you!"
"And a good morning to you, too, Mister Red. Been a while. What you been up to? Read any good books lately? Seen any good movies? Or are you still putting all your efforts into being the best damn ignoramus you can be?"
"Tells ya' what, Mister ... one thing I ain't been doing is blasphemizing up the holy Constitution with all sorts of pinko flapadoodle!"
"Gee whiz, Red, that isn't fair. Bob's no pinko, are you, Bob? And not everything he put into his Constitution is flapadoo ..."
"Cope, I can speak for myself. So tell me, Red, what is it specifically you object to? Not that I give a s***."
"Wull gull durnit, I ain't got nothing specifical in mind. Fact is, I ain't actually read none of your re-writin'. But I know how our gun rights is always bein' attacked by elitismists. And since I knows you to be a dang elitismist by your own admission, I figured sooner or later, you'd be messing with what my favorite blog spot calls 'The Sacrosanct Second.'"
Cope asked him, "What blog is that, Red?"
"That'd be the Gun Nuts United website, what they call the 'GNUS News.' So Badger, have you started messing with my Second?"
"I'm done with it, Red. I started on your damn amendment the day after one of the many massacres we've seen this year ... or did you notice? Pull up a stool and let me read you the first sentence."
"Bob, uh, that's probably not a great idea. I mean, Red has things to do, I'm sure. Don't you, Red? And you and I have to get this stuff over to your ..."
"Relax, Billy boy. Just one sentence, then I'll get back to moving."
"'At's right, Cope. 'Sides, I ain't got nothing more important to do than protecting my right to tote a gun whenever and wherever I gull durn feel like it!"
"OK, you ready? Are you listening? Here goes: 'A well-regulated militia, along with a clear and unscrew-upable definition of what a damn militia is, shall not be infringed, being necessary to secure a free state and livable society from the a**hole gun deviants and the evil, greedy, lying scum at the National Rifle Association who insist that some cretin's right to keep and bear arms on college campuses, bar stools, federal parks and even on his flabby butt when he goes to Starbucks for coffee takes privilege over any innocent bystander's right not to be blown away during a macho pissing match, a domestic disturbance or a workplace dispute with a souped-up, semi-automatic people-slaughtering device that no sane society would allow to be manufactured, sold or owned, particularly by the sort of twisted moron who would want to own one.' There it is, Red, What do you think?"
"That's just one sentence?"
"From there, I go on to define how that gun you keep around to defend yourself and your family with is in reality the biggest threat either you and your family are apt to come across in this lifetime. Say, Red, did you hear about the 3-year-old that shot his little brother last week? Yeah, happened over in Rupert. Then there's that U of I student cut down by a perv with a permit, and a 10-year-old dead from ..."
"You ain't fightin' fair, Mister. Them stories about chil'run getting all shot dead ain't got nothing to do with my liberties."
"You keep telling yourself that, pal. But you might want to throw in a prayer now and then that you never have to bury one of your own."
To be continued ... will this never end!