Really wish you’d just go away. Not just leave town. Disappear. Like evaporate. In lieu of that, however … Welcome to Louisville — our compassionate, possibility city!
I’ve been told the NRA does a lot of good: from proper training on how to use firearms to promoting safe practices and awareness. It’s too bad your leadership is hellbent on pushing an irrational, unreasonable, anarchist legislative agenda, which contributes to over 30,000 violent gun deaths each year.
But you must be doing something right: The NRA is the only organization that can bring together all three Republican parties in harmony.
So what is it about the NRA — the gun culture in America — that will unify, at least for the moment, the three Republican parties in Louisville?
Money.
People who vote.
The three new GOPs paying homage to the NRA this week in Louisville are represented by Sen. Mitch McConnell, Sen. Rand Paul, House Speaker Paul Ryan and presidential aspirant Donald Trump.
Oh, and our very own Tea Party special, Gov. Matt “The Bevinator” Bevin.
First, let me say that we are amazed that the elder-establishment GOP is still breathing, despite all the fractures, contusions and trauma. We really wish y’all would find another leader, or face, for the old elephant, but we’re used to having Mitch around. It makes sense that this old elephant endures, because his defining characteristic is marked by a unique ability to follow no particular moral or ideological compass, and to traverse whatever political path is most advantageous to him at any given time. The old-guard Republican party’s relationship with the NRA is the oldest and probably the strongest. Despite some uncomfortable moments with one faux gun enthusiast (read: Mitch) trying to flaunt his manliness with a shotgun, it has a financial bond with the NRA that seems to be an unbreakable quid pro quo. But once the establishment loses its grip entirely because of the insurgent Republicans, the deal may be off.
Next, we see the Tea Party Republicans have sent their stalwarts to town, although they’ve recently been challenged by a new, louder, angrier band of Republicans. The Tea Party came to prominence after the election of the first black president, a Democrat. Coincidence? This powder keg found its spark in Sarah Palin (and other unqualified leaders) who preyed off people’s fears and hatred, exploding into a force of true-believer, anti-government patriots. They are nothing like the last group who called themselves anti-government patriots: the original card-carrying Tea Partiers marching under the flag bearing the slogan, “Don’t tread on me.” Rural, white Americans — a well-regulated militia — who created American freedoms with muskets and courage: the living embodiment of the Second Amendment.
Finally, and most important, we will host the newest Republican Party in Louisville. We didn’t think anyone could trump the anger and volume of the Tea Party. But then again, we didn’t expect Donald Trump. Double-Crossing Donald (our nickname for the nicknamer himself).
We’re so excited to have Trump back in town that we devoted the entire center spread of LEO this week to a welcome banner in his honor.
So let me personally thank you, Double-Crossing Donald, for coming back. Without you, none of this would be possible. (Side note: We missed Trump the last time the NRA convention was in Louisville, back in 2008. But, I guess, that’s back when he was Donald the Democrat.)
The Trump Republicans feel completely cheated by the Grand Ol’ Party and Tea Party. After years, decades, of what they see as disingenuous promises, and what we observe to be Fox-fueled exploitation of their emotions, they don’t care that their newest leader is a double-crosser — they feel like they have been double-crossed for years. This time, however, at least, the double-crosser is a “yuge” man who doesn’t care what others think or say (even though he really does and masks it with more manliness and more, louder, stronger conviction).
So Trump is a chameleon elephant who can turn whatever shade of orange and angry it takes to win. If that means pretending to be a big gun guy for a few hours … welcome to Louisville. After all, we do live in Possibility City.
