Where’s the Beef Jerky, Mr. President?: “Spicy Town” is a Poster Child for America’s Moral Decline

My God, what a hellhole—a gutted, trash-strewn Abattoir of Dreams where Socialism’s failed human Petri cultures scrounge for rods of dry, salted cow-flesh and enlist in steel-cage matches with Mexican luchadores, evil ninjas, obese Social Security Disability sponges and scary robots because government-subsidized Liberal education has damned them to a life of Hopeless Parasitism and nihilistic thrill-seeking. Only when these opportunity-deprived zombies are gnawing on processed tube-meat and being kicked shitless by a mechanical man in a diving helmet do they feel truly alive. 

You can tour this Bailed-Out, Demand-Side Obamaville of Depradation here...or view a couple of quick snapshots below the fold.

A product of Clinton-era feel-good city plannng, Spicy Town was supposed to be the model of a “Human-Centric Urban Economic Development Zone.” Now, even the “Welcome” sign is charred and stained with filth—a fitting backdrop for the shambling hordes of Democrat-voting teat-suckers who gladly checked into Spicy Town, only to face the brutal fiscal reality that they can’t check out, ever. Thanks, Progresives!™

These tidy, modest homes were once a showcase for the “success” of CRA bank-extortion and mortgage-giveaway schemes. But not only did the non-producing Welfare-barnacles who enjoyed the Leftists’ piratical largess inevitably default on their taxpayer-subsidized fantasy-loans, not even squatters will go near these houses since the EPA discovered they were constructed with cheap, toxic Chinese drywall by union-choked contractors who cut corners so they could pay idle laborers to drink beer and watch game shows at “Workmen Retraining Centers.”

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Spicy Town’s retail and small-business economy is dryer than Groom Lake, but you can still buy a Corexit-marinated Louisiana Blackgill Tuna for the price of a bus-pass, as long as it’s nailed to a trophy-board to satisfy the lazy, incurious FDA inspectors.

And so what if you already sold all your methadone to buy a bottle of A-200 and a scouring pad from the Obamacare “Free” Clinic? You can always earn it back at Rumble Arena—but first you’ll have to get past El Carne, the Masked Marauder of illegal immigrant freebies and go-to-the-head-of-the-line Democrat voter-recruitment incentives.

Thanks but no thanks, Spicy Town. This is one American who won’t be waiting in line behind you for a stick of petrified beef. I’ve already picked up my stick—the one that was given to me by God, Moses and Glenn Beck—and I’ll be bringing that stick with me to Spicy Town after November. Tell your friends. Tell your Liberal paymasters. And especially tell that spandex-clad freedom-vampire El Carne. He’s mine.

Posted by StrangeAppar8us on 08/29/10 at 01:30 PM • Permalink

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