The great conflict—it is upon us, and as it is such “upon us,” we must now answer its banshee call. A line in the sand has been drawn, drawn across colors that would never run, even at the harrowing prospect of a non-adjustable 9.9% APR with no cash back. When your grandchildren ask you, “Daddy (or rather Granddaddy, but you make them call you Daddy to undermine that gutless son of yours who has no fucking clue how raise a disciplined child) what did you do during the great Rhymes with Orange/ Mallard Fillmore vote off war?” let us hope you can respond with “I called the Philadelphia Inquirer every 5-10 minutes for two weeks in order to cast as many additional votes as possible for Mallard Fillmore.” Then you could smile and lean back in that nice recliner with leathery upholstery and built in electronic adjustment mechanism and say, “and that’s why your father will always be a loser.”
The journalistic bite of Mallard Fillmore, an Oseki knife slicing through the sweet doughy innards of our degenerate liberal kulturkampf, portioning hard morsels of smothered truths across the daily array of decadent “printable comics,” polemicizing, romanticizing, fascisizing in order to “un-fascisize:” such is the trajectory upon which Mallard Fillmore editorializes the sad zeitgeist of American Kultur. Mallard Fillmore unearths the most dangerous risks for contemporary Americans, such as the piece on 1/22/07 which declared “Everyday millions of people get e-mails claiming that they can get money from African accounts belonging to Americans killed in plane crashes…but we know what the risk is here—Americans really oughta quit flying around in Africa”
This, of course, prompts the questions:
Who are these Americans flying around in Africa?
How Can I get a piece?
And that’s what the genius of Mallard Fillmore is all about: getting a piece. And not just any piece, a fat piece of pie, with a little whip cream or even a la mode, yes, with vanilla ice cream, that piece of the pie that the liberals got but they don’t want you to have because they’re too busy tyrannizing the poor masses with their crypto-fascist PC policing—that piece of the pie. In a brilliant strip on 1/24/07, Mallard Fillmore again attacks just that:
We see in this heartfelt polemic against the “torture-crats” or PC Gestapo the placement of Rex Morgan’s head on the body of what should be a Chinese youth. It is interesting to note that this picture looks nothing like Rex Morgan, M.D.. But upon closer inspection, we realize that this is not the face of Rex Morgan, MD, but rather that of the indolent, half-witted goat man Andrew C. von Eschenbach, head of the FDA. And upon even closer inspection: an anagram of Rex Morgan, M.D, is, of course, “MR.MEAN GOD, RX.”
Who else could this describe but that impish despot Eschenbach? His particular fascination with ‘wellness’ prescription drugs such as Echinacea, an herbal remedy consumed by those same syphilitic cosmonauts, that same perfidious liberal lobby, is all part of the larger conspiracy of fools, including the ACLU, Planned Parenthood and the Singapore Physical Engineering School of Applied Science, bent on crippling our society through the obesity, tolerance of ethnicities, and herbal dietary supplements. Because of the “politically correct outrage” of our cultural climate, Fillmore must speak in code, below the line of surface text and image, below the many currents out to intercept and sabotage his sage appraisals of our cruel tutelage under the liberal faction of daemonic ghouls. He is truly a hero beyond compare, and thus, it is our duty, citizens of the greater 215 area code, to act, to pick-up our phones and dial the local extension given, and then hang up once our vote is processed, and then then, and only then, will the then we must have now become the now that they had then.
Dr.T.Thaddeus Fantastic, M.D.