Our View Goes Undercover

Red Scare At Night, Mr. Peanut's Delight



After reading another flaccid expose by our loco blogging comrade Mr. Peanut at ontheborderline.nut, I decided to do some dark-of-night investigating to find out more about this communist in New Richmond. The communist from New Richmond continues to bemoan the fact that billionaires in our state are continuing to bribe simple-minded Republicans who get elected and in true puppet-like fashion vote YES to eliminate progressive income taxes, public education and reduce the size of the middle class to size where it can be drowned in the gilded hot tube of any of our state's billionaires. At first, I thought it was Bob Z, a frequent OTBL.nut commentator who occasionally sheds a ray of common sense and gets called a communist because of it. After finding the perimeter of Bob Z's yard guarded fortress-like with "Vote Yes for New Richmond School" signs and "Goldwater-Miller in '64" signs, I realized it was the other communist in New Richmond Mr. Peanut was referring to.

Not knowing exactly where the NR commie lived, I drove around and accidentally ran into Bolsheviks Boulevard. Not knowing which way to turn, I took a hard left and drove through the darkness. The street suddenly dead-ended into a street called Marxist Way. I knew I was getting warm so I took another hard left.


Under the cover of darkness, I slowed the beat-up Toyota my wife bought me and looked for a house that could pass for the local NR communist king pin. Suddenly I came upon a huge mansion bathed in red light. Sitting in front of the garage was the big gold Cadillac the New Richmond Communist drives to the NR government school board meetings. The vanity plates are a dead give away. I parked down the street, got out of my car and put on my undercover, secret investigator disguise -- a slime green sweat band on my follically-challenged head with a generous strip of duct tape across my lips. Those who know me will tell you that I have a hard time keeping my big mouth shut. The duct tape helps to keep the crap from trickling down on my Grover Norquist for President t-shirt.
Disguise in place, I crept through the darkness across the lawn of the NR Commie's mansion. A like was glaring in a window by the corner of the house so I eased myself up to get a look at what was going on in the room. In the room at a desk sat the wife of the NR Commie. True to form she was fat and ugly, as all women are who work for the government school system. She was reading something that I couldn't quite make out, so I pulled out my Mr. Peanut telescope that I got from a can of dry roasted nuts when I was a small boy named Harito Alger.

I could hardly believe my beady eyes! She was reading something titled "The New Richmond School Guide To Cadillac Benefits!" As I looked around the room, I noticed overstuffed, gunny sacks with money leaking out of them. I strained to see the wording labeled on the sacks. Some sacks were labeled "money stolen from the taxpayers with the threat of confiscation of the personal property" and other sacks were labeled "money from the school district and teachers' union." Suddenly, Mrs. NR Commie got out of her chair, dumped the contents of one of the money bags on the floor, laid down and started rolling in it.
It was too much for me to watch this. I stepped away from the window and went around the side of the house. Did I mention she had red hair?

Around the side of the house, I stopped to catch my breath. I was shaking violently and knew I wouldn't be able to write any threat letters later in the evening. It was then I notice a red glow coming from the back of the house. I slinked my way towards the light.

I creept up to the window and there in a big, red over stuffed chair sat the NR Commie himself. Like all husbands of public school teachers, he was fat, disheveled and obviously lazy and had worn out many a Lazy Boy chair paid for with money stolen from the taxpayers. He was watching the American League baseball championship on his HD Jumbotrone. In his hand was a bottle of Leine Red. On the table next to him was half a bottom of Johnny Walker Red. Next to the bottle was a well worn original copy of the Communist Manifesto. One of the Red Sox hit a grand slam and the NR Commie jumped to his feet cheering like he was in Red Square in 1917.

He had a fire going in his fire place and walked over it. Where you'd usually expect to see pieces of wood for the fire, there was a stack of books. He picked up a book and through it into the fire. With my telescope, I checked out the titles of the books. The titles included "Wealth of Nations" by Adam Smith, "The Road to Serfdom" by FA Hayek, "The Price of Sin," "Ayn Rand's Guide to Self Love," "The Free Marketeers Guide To Community Isolation," "Masters of Deceit" by J. Edgar Hoover and a host of other books I've heard about on the Ludwig von Mises website. On his wall was a pinup poster of Nancy Pelosi wearing a red bikini standing between Che Guevara and Fidel Castro, who was doing a Bill Clinton imitation with a cigar.

The NR Commie then went over to his CD player and started looking for a CD to play. With CDs by groups like Simply Red, Red Sovine, Red Knuckles and the Trailer Blazer and the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, it was clear to me why he was being labeled a communist. He put on a CD and cranked it up and it was "Panama Red" by the New Riders of the Purple Sage, a San Francisco band from the 1970s.

He then went back to the fire place and grabbed the copy of "The Price of Sin" and tossed it into the fire. Being that the wind was carrying the smoke from the fire place over by me, it was the smell of total bullshit that suddenly engulfed me as the "Price of Sin" sizzled like a fresh turd on the grill at last year's Badger Blog Alliance Bash. It was then I realized I had spent way too much time on this assignment and would be late of a late night Tea Party in Ellsworth.


I slinked back to my car, started it up and headed out of town. As I drove by the New Richmond school administration building, I noticed a dumpster along side the building and had thoughts of stopping by and digging through it for some incriminating evidence about the profits from the school pop fund. But by then it was too late and I knew I'd better get my ass home before the wife came home from winning the daily bread and started asking me how the Internet entrepreneuring was going.

I settled into the drive back to OTBL.nut headquarters and spent the drive listening to Glenn Beck on KTLK FM talk radio. As he reminded me how Mother Theresa, Ghandi, Martin Luther King, Rachel Carson, tree huggers, government employees, Jesus and everybody who didn't agree with me was a communist, the shaking started to dissipate. Suddenly a baby rabbit appeared in the other lane and I took out my AK-47, stuck it out the window and turned that bunny into a mist of bone and blood. I screamed "What would Jesus do?" in my best Ted Nugent voice and reached over and took handful of moldy peanuts from the Mr. Scrooge Christmas tin on the passenger seat.