By CHRIS PACKHAM
The wondrous magic of imaginary Latinos: It's not that I actually hate unfunny old Garrison Keillor's A Prairie Home Companion. It's just that I think Archer Daniels Midland, the John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation and listeners like you should be pledging money to worthier causes, such as E. Thomas McClanahan's Asthma Camp for Strict Constructionist Kids.Oh, I'm kidding. I actually do hate A Prairie Home Companion, but lately I've been taking my rhetorical cues from the Minutemen race-hatred organization. They've adopted an ingenious rhetorical strategy with regard to their blood foes, the Mexicans, of advocating for "stronger borders" and "enforcing the laws on the books." It's great, because they don't have to take their Topps holofoil race cards out of their protective mylar sleeves, plus they get to appear all patriotic and bald eagle-y.
But when push comes to shove, and the rubber hits the road and trouble rears its ugly, hydrocephalic head in the form of trailer park domestic turmoil, who takes the heat? If you're the wife of the founder of the Ozarks Minutemen, you tell the cops on the scene that three Latinos broke into your mobile home, sexually assaulted you and shot you in the knee with a handgun. Then, after the police spend 100 man-hours looking for the suspects, you admit that you accidentally shot yourself, probably while listening to Garrison Keillor sing the fucking "Rhubarb Pie" song while jauntily air-conducting with your snub-nosed .38. Oh, look! I've become Crime Scene KC.
Do££ar$ and ¢€nt$ and other symbols you can't find on your keyboard: A poll commissioned by the city demonstrates a plurality of Kansas Citians favoring a half-cent sales tax for rapid transit.I don't doubt it, and truthfully, as a Libertarian Christian Anarchist Objectivist, I'm kind of torn. On the one hand, not only do I want to get the government out of peoples' lives, I also actively want to smash the state, preferably with the cheapest well-vodka-based molotov cocktails money can buy. I'm a budget anarchist. But, on the other Ayn Rand-reading hand, regressive sales taxes are satisfyingly tough on the sub-poverty Untouchable caste, whom the last fifteen grinding years of laissez-faire economic liberalism haven't yet crushed completely flat. So, there's that on top.
While we're on the subject of your girly-ass pocketbook, Yael T. Abouhalkah took one look at the Kansas City sewer rate projections, clutched his heart and stumbled around like Redd Foxx having "the big one." I swear to TV's Bibleman's Son of God, I think Yael is going to move away from Kansas City when the first of those fat bills appears in his mailbox. But the main reason I'm drawing it to your attention is because nobody, including snotty 9-year-old girls who say things like "No doy," is more unintentionally hilarious about name-calling than the commenters at Midwest Voices. In comments, somebody called kcfella writes a, like, thousand-word essay calling Mayor Mark Funkhouser both "Mayor Buffoon," and -- gloriously -- "Mayor Smart With Nothinghouser." Kcfella, you! Are! The! Best! At! Humor! Henceforth and for all time, Daily Briefs will refer to Mayor Mark Funkhouser as "Mayor Smart With Nothinghouser."