"Tea Party", A Spinoff Political Entity In The Republican Party Of Ross Perot's 1990's Reform Party

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Jeb Bush Rinos Dictate What The Republican Party Is All About. The Dictator Bushies

Busloads of Bush's walking dead vie for soul of GOP


Quote From Hat In Ring:

The "Tea Party" doesn't have many candidates elected or with to much clout. The candidates the Tea Party does have aren't so popular and Tea Partiers have a very hard time picking and coming together on the candidates we do have. The campaign cash the Tea Party gets is thin also. The "Tea Party" without the libertarian and rino vote "DOES" control a majority of the republican voting base that the rinos and libertarians work hard at covering up. If the "Tea Party" can come together under one candidate on the state and national levels they certainly would create frontrunners to win elections.

Please Visit "Tea Party White House" And Help Get The Tea Party On The Same Page.



Note From Hat In Ring: The Article Below Comes From An Undisclosed Libertarian Source. The Libertarians and Establishment Republicans Are Working Together Against The Tea Party In The Republican Base But Some Rogue Libertarian Wrote This Article To Get One Of Their Libertarian Candidates Ted Cruz, Rand Paul Or Sarah Palin Elected. I Posted It Here Because It Is Accurate And Funny As To The Makeup Of The Establishment Republicans.


CPAC (Conservative Political Action Conference 2015
NATIONAL HARBOR, Maryland Feb. 2015


Something wasn’t right here.

Not only was the hall suddenly overflowing, these were a different breed. Something subtly amiss grew increasingly creepy by the minute. Unthreatening enough not to cause

panic but perceptibly subversive and sinister enough to trigger alarms. Then it became clear. It was an invasion. By an entirely alien invasive species.

The polyester-blend nation of Stepford Republicans had seized control of the conservative conference known as CPAC.

It was obvious the crowd for Jeb Bush had been imported.

It wasn’t just the overflowing hall.

Or the suspicious number of Bush stickers on lapels that suddenly appeared.

It was the lapels.

It was the uniform. They all dressed the same. Sanitized of any style or hint of originality and dressed not for success but not to cause offense.

Conservative attendees had heard the rumor swirling through the convention that there would be a protest walkout when the former Florida governor spoke that last Friday of February. What they did not find out until later was that Bush supporters, staffers and volunteers had been shipped in by the busloads from the lobbyist lair of K Street, in nearby Washington.

In fact, a leaked email would reveal they had been instructed to arrive at 7:30 a.m. for the 1:40 p.m. appearance and to save seats for fellow travelers.

The walkers lined the halls and pressed against the walls of what was by far the biggest crowd at the convention that week. They were everywhere.

Bushies rarely spoke, even more rarely smiled, frowned or let any expression crease their faces. Glued to phones, texting incessantly. Uniformly neutral in demeanor and personality, which is to say vacuous. Vacant. Void. Null set. No lights on and nobody home.

Drones. Clones.

Zombies.

Worse yet … moderates.

It was a sight to behold. A teeming yet ideologically barren landscape of post-apocalyptical politics.

Busloads of Bush’s walking dead vying for the soul of the GOP at CPAC.

All in lockstep from head to toe, collar to cuff.

By contrast, the conservatives were a rainbow of such rainforesty diversity and nonconformity as to look positively Haight-Ashburian circa 1967 in comparison.

Bushies came in two basic models: wiry weasel junior executive and doughy frat pledge. There were few women.

Weasels wore JCPenney junior executive wannabe power-ranger suits with pale shirts and what their dads told them were power ties. The doughboys wore the same outfit purchased from Ed’s Big and Tall.

They all bore the same purposefully inoffensive-as-possible Supercuts hairstyle cropped just above the ears, two inches above the collar. The length in front was about one-month-out-of-military-prep-school growth, and somehow managed to be both highly and unimaginatively coiffed. Their uniformity, conformity and lack of individuality was an ideal to which all could aspire. Together. All at once.

Perhaps, like Mormon door-to-door missionaries, they would appear less-threatening if they all looked alike.

After all, if that many people agreed on what is a good look, maybe their ideas were good, too. And maybe those easily spooked, hayseed conservatives wouldn’t find the moderates’ new-fangled and sophisticated notions so strange and threatening, after all. Just speak to them softly, slowly and soothingly, like a skittish pony.

Hillary-Witch It was painfully clear that by donning nothing threatening or remotely provocative they hoped to appeal to the most people. The lowest common denominator was their lodestar. They embodied boring because they opted for the safest style of all: taking no chances on any individuality or individual thought, or anything that might offend anyone. Except, of course, conservatives. Who were they going to vote for, Hillary?

As Bush hour approached, the inner core of the hall was still a solid bait ball of conservatives, but the landsharks began circling the perimeter. The aisles ringing the hall began to bling with shiny red Bush stickers ominously forming phalanxes in a slow-motion blitzkrieg.

A reporter, knowing full well Bush was to speak next, nonetheless wanted to see what reaction he would get by asking a junior mad man a modestly intrusive question.

“Is Bush next?”

Slowly his head turned, as if his consciousness had been reluctantly dragged, kicking and screaming, back to earth by a mere mortal, until he hissed and spat out the solitary word. “Yes.” And then he glared with eyes of burning coal; just, one assumes, to make a point.

Not all Bushies were viperous. Some seemed sweet but utterly lost. The Kool-Aid had not quite taken full effect. But even their sincerity was well-rehearsed. Not quite the unvarnished hospitality and uninhibited friendliness of auntie June from the PTA and local tea-party chapter.

As Phil Robertson took his sweet time preaching to the choir, a Bushie leaned over and asked, who is that?

If you have to ask, this ain’t your crowd.

Another Bushie ridiculed Robertson’s camouflage headband, growing impatient that a plebeian patrician of a mere Duck Dynasty was holding up the shiny brand-new model of the Bush dynasty.

On and on wheezed this nouveau riche geezer who didn’t even inherit his own fortune. Something about unalienable rights, God, morality, the Founding Fathers, the Federalist papers and some other stuff so boring and so last millennium it isn’t even covered in Common Core curriculum, for St. Benneton’s sake!

Bush appeared.

A few dozen people walked out. The majority of the conservatives stuck around to boo.

Bush wore an expensive replica of the cheap knock-offs that adorned his legion of minions. Sort of like if Mercedes made a Jetta.

The contrast of the Bushies with the conservatives was stark, in oh-so-many ways.

The Bushies were all the same. Mad Men of the new millennium.

The conservatives were all over the map.


Washington Times CPAC

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