Tin Hatters Are Gods

Tin Hats don’t normally get themselves dirty with current events, particularly religion and politics.  If given a choice, we would rather slit the throats of chickens and watch them flop around and sling blood all over the place.  That seems more fun when compared to writing about religion and politics.   In general, we believe that the real crazies of the world, people like Tom Cruise, Donald Trump, Sara Palin, Rupert Murdock, Warren Jeffs, Ted Cruz, David Dukes, and Dennis Rodman (in his political prime) should have unleashed access to those patchy fields.  Indeed, they should be allowed to bound like foaming dogs after naked children.

However, it has come to our attention that a meth head has recently tipped a prostitute with a bush baby.  This unique innovation has “nothing” to do with either politics or religion, yet it got us to thinking about our existential position as the true Tin Hats.  As you might have guessed, Tin Hats is our “project” and we believe that “nothing matters” is the ultimate existential joke and prime paradox: since “nothing” simultaneously matters and doesn’t. (The use of quotes is hurting my fingers.)  We don’t have time to explain, just trust us.  Nothingness has something to do with us being gods.  We are not a god, but the god; fragmented, joined at the hip, and ready to light our feet on fire to impress you.  Just believe in us, okay?

Anyway, there is a Florida truther who thinks that Sandy Hook was a put-up job, replete with crisis actors.  He is suing his former employer for illegal termination over his First Amendment rights.

As some of you may know, Tin Hats is a fully accredited medical diagnostic center and we would, therefore, like to offer our professional assessment of this truther’s political and medical status.

In his case we believe it is a question of genetics and environment, which is always a safe scientific position to defend when discussing the theory of human beings.

The hellish environment of Florida has obviously hit him squarely between the eyes and like some staggered mule, his faculty to render judgement has been greatly reduced.  We really don’t need to debate that point and anyone who is afraid of alligators and men’s pastel underwear will readily agree.  As to genetics, we believe there is a medical condition manifest.  Somewhere in his brain there is a genetic mutation that, unfortunately, many people possess.  It is called the “asshole connection” and it is a series of ganglia and nerve fibers that go directly from the anterior temporal lobe to the sphincter of the anus.  The pathway is problematic since it involves the transport of not only ideas to the anus, but shit from the anus to the brain. This condition has led those who are afflicted to be termed as “shit heads” or the more formal diagnosis “shit for brains”.

We hope this will be our only journey into the wilderness of politics and religion.  But then who can say?  Certainly not us, since we are the Tin Hats, which means that nothing matters and we are gods, and that is: the god.  Believe in us and everything, just like the sexual kink in your daydreams, will eventually work out.

 

 

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5 thoughts on “Tin Hatters Are Gods

  1. After I picked myself off the floor that alligator in the pastel jockey brief swallowed me whole. (my kink in daydreams which also happens to be my political philosophy…)

    Liked by 2 people

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