SAVING SAN FRANCISCO FROM ITSELF

Apparently the Salesforce conference is going on this week. A huge number of people are in town, discovering with utter dismay that San Francisco is a violent war zone, with robberies, murder, and dogs pooing, right outside their downtown hotels. There are drug deals and people speaking foreign languages in the hallway (fourth floor, between the laundry room and the sandbagged machine gun emplacement). Oh, the humanity. It's horrible.
President Donald Trump and Marc Benioff sympathize with them.
And are keenly desirous of sending in the Marines.

Or at least the Texas National Guard.
The Scotch Brand of military.


Imagine large warm heffalumps slowly drifting through the darkened streets of the Tenderloin, by their very presence disrupting the looters robbing the Cheesecake Factory and hippies torching a California Pizza establishment.

Leaving trails of chili bean fumes in their wake.
Plus fragments of Frito Pie.


Scenes of madness and despair.

Would you look at all the tall buildings!

Dang, we've never seen so many non-white people! We don't have those in Texas, thank god. Nothing but church-going honest to goodness Americans there, who dutifully turn on Fox News every night after their bean and cheese casserole dinner, before they have lime Jello for dessert. No one dressed as frogs or rainbow unicorns throwing bombs! No one smoking weed while torturing kittens! No woke fairies threatening folks with a good time!


Distantly, a native finally dares step outside, the streets having finally been made safe and sterile. The vegans and fans of rock and or roll have all been arrested and sent to a place surrounded by alligators, there is no one around anymore who reeks of patchouli.

He lights his pipe, and relaxes. The war seems so distant now.
Far to the south, a Venezuelan boat explodes.
A coalminer dies of black lung.
Peace at last.



And there are happy billionaires everywhere!



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