Who Would Jesus Shoot? Other Than Bobby Jindal & The Entire Grand Obstructionist Party!

Exercise The (Oil) Demons, Bobby!

Yeeeeehaaaaww America! The moment you’ve been waiting, hoping, and praying for your entire life has finally arrived, and just in the nick of time! In case somethin’ disastrous happens, like say, demonic blobs of British Petroleum ooze up from the shores and burst through your quiet, neighborhood church in Louisiana, threatening to devour every terrified congregant. Every last God-fearing one of ’em!

Not if fearless leader and howdy doody look-alike, Piyush “Bobby” Jindal has anything to say about it!

Thanks to the governor’s sage wisdom and savvy leadership skills (especially in times of crisis!), residents in Louisiana may still be unable to swim along the coastlines or catch nary a shrimp or oyster to feed their starving families, but they will be able to carry concealed weapons into houses of worship just in case any evil, oil glob monsters slink their way from the shores of the Gulf to Sunday mass at St. Mary’s Church.

That’s right y’all! With one swift stroke of the pen, Governor Bobby Jindal’s signed into law a new bill that some residents (those with brains) up in arms:

State Rep. Henry Burns’ bill would authorize persons who qualified to carry concealed weapons having passed the training and background checks to bring them to churches, mosques, synagogues or other houses of worship as part of a security force.

The pastor or head of the religious institution must announce verbally or in weekly newsletters or bulletins that there will be individuals armed on the property as members of he security force. Those chosen have to undergo eight hours of tactical training each year…

The bill also allows a house of worship to hire off-duty police or security guards to protect congregants.

Wooohooo!! Glad to see Jindal continuing to make wonderful executive decisions, and prove he’s got his Grand Old Priorities straight, in these trying times when luxurious oil is creepin’ baby creepin’ all around Louisiana’s once-pristine, water-based coast. On the bright side, most Southern dishes can now be made by headin’ straight down to the Gulf, and flash-frying your ingredient(s) of choice right there on the beach. It’s perfect for fried chicken, butterfly shrimp, even your favorite Cajun stir fry!

Now, you may remember ol’ Bayou Bob as the adorable baby-faced token minority and rising Republican star whose refusal to accept big, bad government money for his desperately poor, disaster-ravaged state made him a fleeting darling of the right and anyone else who values ridiculous, self-serving (political) grandstanding and nonsensical, ineffectual ideas as the preferred method of handling a crisis.

Well Bobby doesn’t miss a beat, because he knows the only thing standing between his precious Louisiana voters and giant, amorphous blobs of crude oil, fish bones, and bird feathers who prey on the pious, is strapping semi-automatics on every old, churchgoing patriot in the Parish. Unlike stupid federal funds, cleanup workers, or scientifically sound solutions to stopping the oil spill, Bobby relies on his own two-sen$e and unshakable belief that the good Lord would never let anything bad to happen to beautiful, Christian Louisiana!

This is very important, people! An absolute, undeniable, irrefutable fact, despite what those pesky Hurricane Katrina truthers may try to tell you!

“We don’t have time for meetings, we don’t have time for red tape,” Jindal said. “Get in the game to win.”

We don’t even have time for smart ideas that actually work, only hysterical nonsense that make terrible policy but great soundbytes, because isn’t that what is really important here?

Duh! As Herm Edwards knows, “You play to win the game!” And everyone knows the coastal devastation and complete destruction of an entire ecosystem is nothing more than an awesome, fun, relaxing game of poolside pinochle.

Which helps explain why bumbling Bobby J has been huffin’ and helicopterin’ all over the state, publicly bashing the Administration while secretly begging Barry for big, bad government money, all while coming up with his own awesome plans like packin’ heat in pews, and untenable “rock jetty proposals” which the entire scientific community dismiss as ludicrous, dangerous, and potentially more problematic than the renegade oil itself. Oooh, even better!

“No is not a plan,” the governor reiterated at a press conference.

It’s our entire way of life!

Which helps explain why Jindal’s approach to millions of gallons of crude (foreign, gasp!) oil lapping at the shores of Louisiana makes about as much sense as his approach to every other challenge in his path, like say encouraging citizens to come to Sunday services strapped with a Glock 22 beneath their (endangered) animal hide belt as a very reasonable, effective way to fight crime. Hooray!

Sort of like how Bobby’s been shriekin’ and hollerin’ against evil Socialist government aid for his entire dweeby existence, slashing state oil spill funds by 50%, crafting oil spill contingency plan’s featuring “pages of blank charts,” worst-case scenario plans labeled “to be developed,” and sealing the state’s oil spill response records…for Freedom! That is until it’s his broke-ass, backwards, Commie-hatin’ state that needs help, and he’s reduced to a sniveling hypocrite begging and crying for some of Uncle Sam’s scrilla.

Sure, Jindal may have accepted accepting only 1,053 out of 6,000 available National Guards, but he’s been doin’ tons of helicopter rides and screaming, which is just as good as actual trained troops, no?

Besides, if all else fails, Bobby can always round up heat-packing parishioners from across the Bayou State, bring ’em down to the oil-drenched coasts, and have ’em shoot the bejesus right out of their now-flaming and bullet ridden waters.

Show that darn oil what happens when scary foreign substances try to wash up on Louisiana’s shores. And unlike Arizona, they shoot first, ask questions later!

While it may be true that if you need a gun at church, you may be in the wrong place of worship, but certainly in the perfect place for a li’l beachfront firefight to make sure whatever wasn’t already decimated by toxic ooze is rewarded with a warm welcome of lovely Louisiana lead instead.

And with the highest rate of gunfire death in the country (double the national rate!), you better believe these faithful, Jeebus-lovin’, Bible-thumpin’, heat-packin’ Bayou boys ‘n gals know how to aim, baby aim, even if BP doesn’t.

Praise the Lord, pass the ammunition & let us say Amen.

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