As you read this, yet another little Nuge update at WND.com on this lovely day of our Lord, Feb. 26, 2014, I am gone with the wind, out cold, bonkers, comfortably numb, zapped, schnookered, boogered, out of pocket, off the grid, anesthetized, beyond the zone, almost Ozzy-like.
No, really. I’m plugged in/out in the hospital right now, today, getting new wheels. My long overdue double knee replacement surgery could not be put off any longer, so in an effort to get back to my dangerous, high energy Motown dance routine for my 51st year of R&B&R&R soulmusic tour and brand new album of killer love songs, I am biting the bullet and gettin’ ‘er done!
The only “bone on bone” I want in my life from now on is witnessing two majestic whitetail bucks smashing antlers together in a territorial fight for dominance. Then hopefully I will kill and eat one.
Oh, the humanity.
And what, you may ask, is so positive about this painful procedure that knocks me flat on my 65-year-old a–? Well, beyond the truism that what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, and beyond the joyful thoughts of being back in the saddle of that legendary Ted Nugent athletic mobility, this rare down moment in time will force me to temporarily disengage from this putrid, tragic culture-war media debate that rages on across the land on a minute by minute, hour by hour, day after day nonstop basis.
And for those paying attention, I have always been and always will be dead center in the eye of the storm, doing everything in my all-American husband, father, neighbor, citizen, small-business owner, guitar playing, bowhunting, we the people power to spotlight the cockroaches and expose the vile abuse of power, corruption, fraud, deceit, smoke and mirrors in government and permeating so much of the Saul Alinsky/Joseph Goebbels propaganda ministry media and academia.
I first ran head on into the then-unheard-of culture war way back in the not so roaring 1960s when the hippie music media first feigned horror at my hardcore anti-drug militancy, no compromise Second Amendment stance and the perfection of my venison diet.
Of course, one would have to be hopelessly stoned or otherwise strangled by denial to find fault with self-defense and conservation, so my initial battles with these losers left the opposing side bloodied and scrambling maniacally to make sense of it all. They still haven’t.
You see, I went Piers Morgan on lost souls way before there was a Piers Morgan, and now that we got him canned over there at CNN, I will simply turn up the heat and do my damnedest to expose the insanity of all the leftist Mao fans running amok in America. With aplomb.
You see, not only will my legs become more powerful and reinforced for the rock ‘n’ roll and bowhunting adventures that lie ahead in my indefatigable American Dream, but after this brief respite and forced rehab, a certain electrifying soul cleansing and spirit re-invigoration will surely transpire, increasing the mental, physical and spiritual firepower of our favorite MotorCity Madman.
God knows I’d rather not have to be called upon to fight like a madman everyday. God knows my phenomenal American Dream of killer music creativity and hands-on conservation with a sharp stick is so much amazing fun, intense challenge and deeply gratifying fulfillment that these exciting lifestyles alone could keep me more than busy.
But surely our Founding Fathers meant for all Americans to participate in this sacred experiment in self-government, and clearly it has been the failing of so many Americans to be engaged that has left the door agape and akimbo for the enemy to take over as they have.
So say a few extra prayers for the old guy, won’t you, and be confident that I will come out dancing like an animal. My greasy two step to the ultimate freedom soundtrack of my music will assist greatly when I resume dancing, so to speak, on the empty skulls of the America-hating left.
Give peace a chance, through superior firepower.
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