Prioleau Alexander: A (Probably) Satirical Peek At America’s Next Civil War

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The Left certainly seems to be rumbling about violence in America, should Donald Trump be re-elected as president. 

The last time that happened didn’t turn out very well for anyone … but what would happen if we the people got involved again? As much as Joe Biden likes to think so, the military wouldn’t better the odds for the snowflakes, as even if posse comitatus was suspended, 85 percent of the military in the killing-people-breaking-things specialties are Deplorables … with professional training.    

So, if things were to go south, and hot, my guess is it would come from one of the states in the Big Sky country. Probably Idaho. Some government building would get blown to hell after hours, and the Feds would come pouring in to find … nothing. No one talking. No one saw a thing.

A few days later, after the news cycle was back to accusing Barron Trump of smoking crack and selling access to his brother-in-law, something else in Idaho would blow up. Here come the Feds again, this time with the National Guard.

This will be mistake number one, as the National Guard isn’t going to shoot Americans, no matter what their orders are. What they would do, however, is assist with the investigation by rounding people up, and it would very quickly begin looking like an occupation … because it would have to. If it didn’t, everyone involved would just melt away into the ravines and creeks, and stay off the radar until all the Deep State criminals went home.

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So … things start looking occupation-ey in Sandpoint, Idaho. How do you think that’s going to play in Coeur d’Alene? Polson, Montana? Loon Lake, Washington. Cody, Wyoming?

Rut-roh.  Will all these armed-to-the-teeth men who live through minus-20 degree winters say, “Shucks. Must suck to live in Sandpoint. I’d like to help, but the Will & Grace marathon is starting on TBS.” No, they’ll be pissed, and loud saber rattling would flood the Internet and the local airwaves.

This is where the big twist comes, because these Deplorables will have forgotten about the power of real passion, commitment, blood, guts and neck tattoos.

The 4th Mountain Bike and Tulip Brigade will come pouring out of Spokane, resplendent in the combat Spandex and reflective safety belts, ringing their little handlebar bells, and guzzling protein shakes. In just a few hours they’ll be on Highway 95 North towards Sandpoint, stopping only to scream at the sky, wolf-down meatless burgers, and guzzle cartons of milk-less milk. By nightfall they’ll have taken the high-ground around the city, and established safe spaces.

The Deplorables in the city will no doubt conduct an uphill frontal assault into the mouth of the dragon, at which point the Brigade will turn on the faucets, dropping millions of gallons of tears and snot down onto the hapless aggressors. I’d say two hours — three tops — and Sandpoint would look like New Orleans the day after Katrina.

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When word of the successful sacking of Sandpoint reverberates across the Internet, other crack units will take action. Odds are the next into the fight will be the Santa Fe Potters and Dream Catchers Weaving Division, who will force march south into Albuquerque and rain kiln-fire down onto the retirees standing in line for the Early Bird Specials. Eventually it will dawn on them that the 644,000 dead were all liberal New York transplants, and they’ve just turned New Mexico deep Red.

Extraction back to Santa Fe will be coordinated by the kind-hearted folk who give rides to hundreds of thousands of people walking from Guatemala to Texas.

By now, the wheels are really in motion. Chicago will strike back, and everyone will kill everyone else, thus Making Illinois Great Again. Someone in Nebraska will hear the news and be so upset they’ll mess up one of the corn rows they’re plowing. The 15 million Michigan hunting permit holders will go hunting in Detroit, and — finding no one there — revitalize the city.

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South Florida will quickly disintegrate into chaos, as the Shuffleboard and Bocci Ball Battalion will head into Cuban territory to form an alliance to hunt down Ron DeSantis. They’ll quickly be reminded that Cubans are family-oriented, religious, pro-life, and life-long conservatives, at which point their bocci balls will be shuffled where the sun don’t shine.

The D.C. Lobbyist and Sycophants Strike Force will mount a vehicular assault south to Richmond, in order to make sure all remaining monuments have been razed, but forget that their assault route takes them through Marine Corps Base Quantico. With every lobbyist in DC lying dead on the blood-soaked soil of Q-town, the skies will open, a Bald Eagle will descend, and a voice will boom, “This is my beloved Corps, with whom I am well-pleased.”

As the fight for the soul of the nation continues to spread, word will reach Charleston — America’s ground zero of secession. Email and text communications will flood the digital realm, and firefights will result, as residents scrabble to get to the liquor store, find a caterer, and ensure all the fun people will be at their party.

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“This is my beloved Corp, with whom I am well-pleased …”

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Remembering what happened the last time a Civil War reached their borders, the infantry division of the Rolling Elvises Mardi Gras Krewe will strap on their rucks, and march north. Weeks later, when arriving in central Kentucky, the commanding Elvis will realize the only fighting they’ve seen was over the last of the sweet tea in Memphis… and say, “Where’s the rukus? Let’s go home, men.” After a grueling march home, they will overrun Bourbon Street, and an excessive body count in Pat O’Brien’s from alcohol and sugar poisoning will result in four bartenders being hanged.

The 12th Colorado Ski Patrol and THC Strike Force will jam into a fleet of Subarus, and head east to Denver with plans to utilize air transportation to conduct a vertical envelopment of the Deplorables of South Dakota. Odds are they will be required by the State Commander to take a urinalysis before the assault, at which time they’ll cram themselves back into the Subis, and get home in time for an après ski bong hit … or ten.

Real bloodshed will break out in Vermont, where everyone is an armed, gun-owning white liberal. Mass confusion will occur regarding who they should kill, so they will adopt a farmers market v. farmers market stance, and fields will be a foot deep in blood, apple cider, and 100 percent pure maple syrup. 

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Someone in Martha’s Vineyard will refreshen their drink, and wonder how the stock market is doing.

Like Vermont, people in Seattle will be in a frenzy, trying to figure out how to add value to the conflict. They’ll no doubt offer assistance to their Marxist pals in Boston, who — having two brain cells to rub together — will know the stench of their patchouli oil cologne will enrage the Deplorables like loco weed turns cattle savage. Wisely, they will send back word, “No. You’re too important where you are … defend Chaz, or Chop, or whatever the hell you called it.”

San Francisco will simply cease to exist, when the Mexicans they sneer at — who commute two hours each way to make their wretched city run — commute those two hours for a final time, and shove weed-eaters down liberal throats, construction signs up Marxist behinds, and jackhammers up socialist noses.

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“America has an unlimited supply of water, which will enable liberals to stay hydrated, thus providing them the needed H2O to generate assault tears for decades …”

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The worst fate of all will await liberal New York City, where everyone hates everyone. It will be Gen Z versus Boomers. Boomers v. Millennials. Skinny jeans v. cargo pants. Gas station coffee drinkers v. Starbucks femboys. Cabbies v. Uber. Buskers v. Homeless. Residents v. the Bridge and Tunnelers. Every ethnicity v. Every ethnicity. Investment Bankers v. Everyone. 

Only Gen X survive the 2nd Civil War, because they’ll be kicked back on couches across the nation, watching Baywatch reruns and dreaming of the days back when MTV played music videos … or cool stuff like Behind the Music.

How long the war will last is hard to say. Deplorables have an estimated 300 million guns, and well north of a trillion rounds of ammo. America has an unlimited supply of water, which will enable liberals to stay hydrated, thus providing them the needed H20 to generate assault tears for decades.

If I had to guess, I’d give the nod to the Libs. All the Deplorable leaders will die fighting on the battlefield, while all the white liberal leaders will emerge unscathed from their crying rooms, safe spaces, and Harvard dorms … ready to feel their way to America’s brave new world.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR …

Prioleau Alexander is a freelance writer, focusing mostly on politics and non-fiction humor. He is the author of four books: ‘You Want Fries With That?,’ ‘Dispatches Along the Way,’ ‘Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?‘ and ‘They Don’t Call It The Submission Process For Nothing.’ 

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