One of the nutty subjects being bandied about our Democratic Congress is the paying of “reparations”, or money meant to apologize to those whose relatives had been victims of slavery and to compensate them for inequalities suffered by those progenitors.  In other words, it’s like calling up every one-night-stand you’ve ever had and telling them you’re sorry, and sending them a twenty for retroactive cab fare.

In some cases, maybe a train ticket. A really fast train.

Now apparently, the reparations concept has gotten stuck between both of the brain cells in the head of the Congress Street pipsqueak, and she decided to crayon-up house bill 2112, which will begin paying out reparations in January of 2020 to nearly 350,000 recipients found to be eligible.   The cost to taxpayers? Eleventy-four billion dollars.  With a “B”.

Also with a “B”- Ben Carson, who has been trapped in the H.U.D. broom closet for 53 days now.

Now I don’t know what liberal arts sorority university little miss Coyote Ugly went to.  But as a graduate of the time-honored School of Hard Knocks, I can tell you that there’s one thing America and our Savior Donald Trump never does, and that thing is apologize.  Did we apologize for Vietnam? No. Iraq?  Hell no.  Did we have any business being in either one?  Of course we did.  Sometimes the world has to see who it’s Big Daddy is.  I believe it was George Washington or somebody like him who said: “The tree of liberty must be periodically watered with America’s nut juice.”  Was there slaves?  There was. Sorry.  We can’t afford any more “sorrys” than that freebie.  We’re trying to build us a wall, here.

Then again, maybe the ‘Nam was worth it. We did get the guy from “Lost.”

Now Itty Bitty Hello Kitty Cortez’s bill probably won’t make it through the Senate, but it’ll perk up the ears of “should be on a guerney” Bernie and Slack-jaw the Squaw.  You can bet dollars to bugnuts that you’ll hear more of it for a few months until the President destroys the dems for good.  So until then, just do what I do. Ignore the yapping kids.  Eventually, they’ll go away.

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