All For the Love Of a Dear Little Girl

Commentary/Satire by Bill the Butcher

There’s this little girl. I can’t show you her picture because I don’t know her personally and to show it would be a massive invasion of her privacy, l especially since I’m kinda an international writer and people in China would be passing it around. (Figure that one out Xi!)

She and her dad continuously pop up on my Facebook. You know the deal, that algorithm that suggests “people that you might know,” after it gleans all your contact lists, family, dead friends and relatives, ex-wives, and the cop who gave you that last ticket. So, it homed in on this little girl’s dad, and she’s right there on his profile picture, with Chris Hansen waiting in the corner to see what I’ll do.

But this she’s not just any little girl. This kid was sent to us from the ages. She is what I call a “Norman Rockwell” girl. The little girl sitting in the hall, waiting to see the principal, with torn clothes and a black eye, because she just beat up the class bully! The little girl on my Facebook is so wholesome that her face should be on a box of cookies! A living Sarah Lee! She has a broad smile, complimenting her broad forehead, piercing eyes, and, dare I say it . . , blonde hair. The antithesis of all things “woke!” But, in a world currently captivated by the “Hawk Tuah” girl “Wholesome” is a four-letter word.

In a previous article I asked the question, “Where have all the flowers gone?” In the song by Peter, Paul, and Mary the answer to that question was, “Young girls have picked them every one.” So, naturally those who are more socially aware than us commoners did away with the young girls first and replaced them with young boys who thought they were young girls. And, if they survived suicide, they grew up to be Drag Queens who pretend they are women who sit in public libraries with young girls sitting on their lap.

Systemically, liberalism rearranged and deranged American society, and in time the “great melting pot” became a cauldron! The exact image of hell! With liberals dancing around the flames in fiendish glee while the rest of us screamed in agony and paid the taxes that supported the abomination because that was most important. Nothing is free. Not even freedom. Someone always has to pay. And to pay they had to have jobs and be productive on those jobs. And set aside a stipend for those who were too woke to work because God forbid, they should break a nail.

After we silenced the flower-picking young girls we had to find a way to stop their daughters and granddaughters from ever trying to pic flowers again. So, Michael Row’d his boat ashore and Waded into the greatest genocide the world has ever seen. All that had to be done was a slight redefinition of life. As we looked for microbes on Mars for proof of extraterrestrial life, we murdered our unborn by the millions because the unborn are not life! God must’ve used a lot of fire and brimstone on Sodom and Gomorrah because he was sure out of both by the time that Supreme Court rolled that out!

But women were now truly free and equal. Not the little flower picking girls, mind you, they were being sold by the six pack but people who like to party offshore. But women were doing good. Ready to take their rightful place in society. After the Wannabe women get their several pounds of flesh at the Olympics. The American family was on the chopping block and there were hosts of butchers to be had, ready and willing to serve up any cut you need! Everyone from Doctor Spock to Ellen Degenerate. With no family model to follow, the kids just followed these Pied Pipers to the “Z” generation. Add a touch of a Plandemic and there you have it . . . The Planet of the Apes! HOO Rah!

And then there’s the image of a little girl I saw on Facebook. Created in God’s image. Her face indicted us. Condemned us. Asks us, “What you gonna do?” Well, I can’t tell you what to do. If you can honestly call this abomination America anymore, it will take a bit more than a drunken guitar player from Austin to straighten this out.

It will all come crashing down. New ideas will rise from the rubble, and in time it will all begin again. History does that you know. Repeats itself. This time, in addition to statues, pictures will be found. Perhaps they will find the picture I’ve described here and archaeologists in the future will puzzle over her face trying to read explanations into her expression. But it’s so simple. It’s right there in the last line of the song . . . “When will they ever learn?”

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