Deeplorable Dayz (chaptur 2)


Hey there y’all.

Jest thought I would tell you what I been up to since last letter from Hickry Holler.

Well they done did it. Them damn federlz done chased his orange hide right outten the county.  I shore was hopin’ old Donald might jest string’em along for a bit, you know, then tree their squirrel and pepper their hide with buckshot.  Why I’d have sent him  a dollar or two jest to open a few of them SEALED INDICTMENTS that that internet preacher man and Q told me wuz waitin’for them deep state devils. But it all come down to less than a hill of beans. Lord A’mighty, now we got a downright FAKE Prezident in the house. Old Jobiden got hisself a shore mess on his hands, I’ll own you that. And his V.P. is almost as purty as Melania, but heck if I know how to pronounce her name. Carmela something . . . 
Anyway, me and the missus is still hunkered down in the cabin, waitin’ fer the dang coronation virus to subside. I heard them city folk is wearin’ masks and all but up here in the mountains we don’t worry too hard about that Chinee Bat Bronchitis. 
(could be it warn’t even from eating bats it might be cooked up in a dang Communist moonshine still, we may never know but I done digressed forgive me Lord) Anyway, Jobiden and Miss Carmela Harrison is our new keen and quing and all us god-fearin’ Christian folk need to reespekt and pray a whole mess for them. Especially since old Jo B. is a cathlick and Carmela may even be one of them six-armed idol-worshippers you never know, cause she IS from Indiana or Kalifornia or someplace such. 

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