A Miracle Happens

“I’ve heard this kind of talk before but I never expected to hear it in America.”

Father Hank Hank: Hi folks. As head of the Picksherry Family, I wanted to say that I understand that there are “many sides” to things and that we need to listen to each other if we’re gonna pull through together in this kooky, often confounding world. That’s what Picksherry is all about. That said, in light of recent events in Charlottesville, Virginia, I feel a duty to point out that some “sides” should be repulsive to any right-thinking American. Which is to say: SCREW NAZIS. Refuse their cowardly vile, stomp down on their lies wherever they may surface. Don’t let them try to turn back the clock on history.

Beatricia Beatricia: Oh, Hanky! You’re cute when you get indignant! But seriously. Screw Nazis.

Trent Trent: No shit! Screw Nazis and their dumb mustaches!

punching

punching4

punching5

punch2

Captain America. Batman. Wonder Woman. Raphael the frikking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. What more do you need? Be a hero. Punch Nazis in the face.

Father Hank Hank: Metaphorically speaking, of course, son! A fruitful conversation is always the preferred method to—

Beatricia Beatricia: Oh, Hanky, what fruitful conversation is anyone going to have with the kind of monster who PLOWS A CAR INTO A HELPLESS CROWD? Punching a Nazi it’s just doing them a favor, sending them a friendly reminder that we’re in a civilized society that won’t tolerate any of that nonsense. It’s healthy for boys to rough-house a little. Go punch if you must, Trent!

Tracey Tracey: Screw Nazis! You know, the old KKK had the decency to wear hoods because they at least understood at a basic level that what they were doing was shameful and criminal. So what- or who- has empowered the new white supremacists to proudly show their faces and expect no social repercussions? HMMM. I WONDER.

Cousin Franz Cousin Franz: Screw Nazis. There’s a reason why Germans might literally punch you for being a moronic Nazi sympathizer.They have some experience on the topic.

Father Hank Hank: Wait. So are we all actually agreeing? This is amazing! It’s a miracle! It’s…

Grandpa Felicius Grandpa Felicius: Not so fast. Why, you’ve all entirely forgotten about me! I haven’t had my say yet!

Tracey Tracey: Oh goodness gracious. Here it comes.

Grandpa Felicius Grandpa Felicius: What is that supposed to imply, young lady? That because of my extremely advanced mummification stage I would somehow hold hateful, pathetically un-American views? I will have you know I was saying “Screw Nazis” long before anyone else. It was the summer of ’25, and I was looking for a publisher for my humorous-yet-revealing memoir about my love for succulent sweets and my concurrent struggle with weight-loss. It was entitled (succinctly, I thought) “My Struggle,” and little did I know that no publisher would touch it because it shared a title with an inept painter’s unreadable 700 page tantrum about Jews. So YES. Screw the Nazis!

Blurbarella Blurbarella: “SCREW– NAZIS.”

6 out of 6 Cherries! THE MIRACLE!*

(*Unfortunately, the Judge refused to release the Picksherrys from their sentence, based on the technicality that nothing was actually reviewed above- and that they merely agreed on something universally obvious that did not involve any actual family breakthrough. “Y’all might as well have agreed on the benefits of oxygen,” the Judge stated. “Go back to pop culture. Oh, and screw Nazis.”)

 

 

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