By Rod Miller, columnist
We should all be eternally grateful that we have wise and courageous presidents like Trump and Biden watching over and protecting us. I know I sleep better knowing this, as do my neighbors in our quaint little village with its curious customs.
Before ex-President Trump called up (picture Washington calling up the Continental Army) our glorious U.S. Space Force, the lights in houses around the village square were on all night. Folks stayed up until daybreak, worried about attacks by Romulans, Tribbles and Jedi-Psycho Space Slime.
Droopy-eyed kids did poorly in school, and farmers in the ripe, lush fields of Ivermectin fell asleep behind their plows. Families were too tuckered to talk around the dinner table, exhausted by fear of alien invasion.
But then, Trump called up the Space Force (touch your screen to hear their triumphant theme music) and established his Orange Dome of Cosmic Security to keep us all safe from anything “out there”. Then we all went to sleep.
Not to be outdone, President Biden just announced his own cadre of comic book superheroes. sent into harm’s way to keep our village safe from stuff that makes us nervous. Biden calls this new arm of Homeland Security the “Disinformation Governance Board”. Orwell called it the Ministry of Truth.
The putative mission of these semantic shock troops seems to be to go forth and protect the peasantry from anyone trying to fool them or hurt their feelings. And God knows we need it!
Since Trump made us safe from mutant space terrorists, a troubling new threat has replaced our former fear. My fellow villagers wander our cobblestone streets with near-panic in their eyes because they are terrified that some stranger in the marketplace would lie to them and sell them an apple instead of an orange. My people yearn for the truth!
Worse, our self-esteem has hit rock bottom because we’re constantly goosey that someone might ridicule our customs while poking fun at our pasty complexions, drab costumes or our hand-me-down codpieces. Words can hurt, ya know.
Biden to the rescue! The president not only inaugurated his Ministry of Truth, but placed at its head Nina Jankowicz, with the tentative title of Valkyrie of Verbal Veracity.
Her budget includes millions of taxpayer dollars for rulers to rap the knuckles of anyone who fibs, and trainloads of Lava soap to wash out all those pottymouths who take the First Amendment just a tad bit too seriously.
She has her work cut out for her, combating all those fine print lies in the Terms of Service agreement for Twitter. Once she plants the flag of truth on that hill, she can attack the bald-faced lies in the extended warranty of a 1991 Ford Ranger 4 cylinder.
Next, she can ask some hard questions of L___ B____ of Van Horn, Texas who swore that she wasn’t married. Then she can grill American League umpires about the strike zone.
With those preliminary scalps hung on her lodge wall, our new Valkyrie of Verbal Veracity can tilt at the windmill of The Big Lie. We’re all rooting for her!!
I can picture her now, the Guest Marshall of our Annual Gerbil Festival Parade, addressing the village from the Hunter S. Thompson Memorial Gazebo. She stands resplendent in her shiny Ministry of Truth uniform, the one with the Thumper from Bambi badge proclaiming “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all”.
She sees the bright eyes of the children gazing adoringly and says, “We won! We won! President Biden promises that no untrue word will ever be spoken into the clear, pure air of your quaint little village”. Then she flashes some sort of gang sign, and concludes “Live Long and Prosper. I ain’t lyin’”.