Moonshine for the misbegotten

A hungover and disheveled Gun Counter Gomer stumbles out of his backyard toolshed/Worldwide Media Center/man place, trips over a stack of empty jugs with xxx on them, and taunts the yellow-bellied bluestatecoats:

Dear 52,

It seems the man you entrusted with your vote lied about his relationship with domestic terrorist and attempted mass murderer Bill Ayers.

Many of you either didn’t hear about Ayers, or accepted Obama’s evolving explanations that Ayers was "just a guy in his neighborhood," or someone that he thought had gone through some sort of terrorist rehabilitation—perhaps at the Yasser Arafat wing of the Betty Ford Clinic.

But now that Ayers has come out and admitted that their relationship is very close—"family friends" is how he put it—how does that make you feel?

I ask, becuase as Malcolm once explained, you’ve been hoodwinked. You’ve been had. You’ve been took. You’ve been led astray, led amok. You’ve been bamboozled.

You’ve been conned in to voting the family friend of a known terrorist into the White House.

How does that make you feel?

…then he crawls off singing ".…cuz I’m as free as a bird now, And this bird you can not change" before collapsing into a pool of his own vomit.

A dog howls in the distance. A tire swing hangs sad and empty in the moonlight.

There is no joy in Chigger Creek…