WEEKLY SOUTHERN ARTS
"Sometime the boogaloo 
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  • Me and Junior Parker
  • The Republican
  • Sweet Home Chicago (The Obama Shakedown)
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  • Lowell George searching for authenticity
  • A Telling Lie
  • Part One: The Monster Is Summoned
  • Like Billy Eckstein Singing to an Empty Club at 1:00 AM on a Saturday Night in 1975.
  • Bent
  • Kelly Joe Phelps
  • Why The Devil Don't Come Around No More
  • Hearing Junior Wells “On Tap'' one more Time
  • Muddy and Me
  • American Youth: The Rise of The New Media
  • Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Talk About Slavery and Shit
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  • This is Not a Political Article
  • A Tale of Wine and Murder
  • Jesus Was a Sly Dog
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  • The Prison Yard Blues
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  • 4 More Poems, 4 More Pictures
  • "Are You Freaking People Insane?"
  • 4 Pictures 4 Poems
  • The Ballad of Carlos Slim
  • Pretending What's in Your Head is True
  • The Cognitive Dissonance of a Faithful Democrat
  • The Human Snakepit
  • George Freeman - Unsung Master of the Jazz Guitar
  • The Price of Milk
  • Suspicious Minds
  • Bill O'Reilly Sexual Predator?
  • The New Soldier
  • Orwell Revisited
  • Larry Coryell - The Godfather is Dead
  • A Tiger Beat
  • South Florida - HOT & COOL
  • Jean Paul Sartre & the Existentialist Mojo
  • Culture Matters, Immigration Matters, Sharks Matter
  • Thomas Sowell
  • A Tree Falls In Central Park on a Gay Banker
  • Black Codes From The Underground
  • Man Talk, with Donald Trump pt. 1
  • Man Talk, with Donald Trump pt. 2
  • Brexit Was the Shot Heard Around the World
  • I Love The Dead
  • The Game
  • Goodbye Scotty Moore
  • If a Bluebird Plays the Blues Why Can't it Play Free Jazz
  • When David Slew Goliath
  • Why Cream still Matters 50 Years Later
  • Goodbye Lonnie Mack
  • Black Lies Matter, All Lies Matter
  • The Folly of Foibles
  • The Life of an Imaginary Historian
  • Angel: part 7
  • Wayne Cochran "Going Back to Miami"
  • The Last Damned Healthcare Article You'll Ever Need
  • The Gospel According to Mark
  • Angel: part VI
  • Ted Bundy & The Hunt For The Devil
  • Charlie & Clint: Dead & Deader
  • Trayvon & George : An American Hate Story
  • Jury Duty
  • Little Tommy & The Blues Kings
  • Kayaking "The Big Cypress" with Crocodlies
  • The Birth of The Jazz Guitarist
  • Gay Marriage
  • Garage Band - The 1960's
  • King Arthur, Pelagius and Original Sin
  • The Story of Ricky
  • Hidden Miami
  • I Hate the 60's: A Personal Rock Odyssey
  • Crocodiles and Alligators in Florida: Monsters in our Backyard
  • The Legend of Robert Pete Williams
  • Saturday Night At Big Tinys
  • The Case Of The Infinite Monkeys
  • The American Heritage Series
  • The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress
  • Blue And Green

               The Republican 

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The Republican

Most liberal Americans (yes, liberals can be Americans, too, only with a small “a,”) don’t know much about us Republicans. Just as we Republicans, sometimes, get it wrong about liberals. Here’s an example: not all liberals are gay. Did you know that? That’s news to some of us. Likewise, not all Democrats are communists, just most, (I want to try and get a little nuance in there.)

So, for the liberals out there, here is a day in the life of an average Republican.

​I wake up at the crack of dawn, take off my camouflage pajamas, and go get me a big-ass cup of coffee, black, with a little cream. (Talk about integration!) Then, I sit down to read my favorite newspaper “The National Enquirer.” Because a man’s got to stay on top things, keep informed. I like a little music while I’m being educated, so I put on my favorite 8 track, “Songs From Ole Dixie.” Next, I get dressed, black on black, t-shirt, jeans, a 45, locked and loaded, ready to protect America from foreigners and other un-American types.


Since I’m retired, I head off down to the VFW. Now, I ain’t never served in no wars, especially no foreign wars. But I did live in Miami for a year, so they let me join, and honored me for my bravery. After knocking back a few dozen beers, while having some important conversations with other enlightened patriots about overthrowing the government (this was mostly during the Obama years,) I head out to patrol the city. You’ve always got to be prepared, so I make sure I’m ready to deal with whatever by running my checklist; 45, loaded? “Yep.” Stainless steel bowie knife, sharpened to a fine point? “You bet.” A-R 15, with plenty of spare ammo? “Hell yeah!”.

Next, I find me some gays, some foreigners, (including the kind who were born here,) maybe a transgender (whatever-the-hell that means,) and I keep an eye on em.’ And, if I see some foreign-born type, with one of them, head coverings, looking like Mo-ham-ed! I follow them, too, lettin’ them know, America’s watching. “You got that!” Real Americans. Not none of them half-way Americans, like liberals and such.

About that time, my trigger finger’s gettin’ kind’a itchy. So I go down to the swamp and blast the heads off of some of God’s woodland creatures, which makes me feel better. I mean, if God didn’t want us to kill, how come it’s so much fun?

About that time, it’s gettin’ kind’a late.

Heading home, at the end of a hard day, I thank the Lord that he made me an American, and not one of them foreign people. Do they got Budweiser beer? Hell no! Do they got Merle Haggard and re-runs of “Hee Haw?” Hell no!

And that, my friends, is what makes America, America.



Sincerely – The Republican