Over the Influenceable
The conservative influencers cometh. God help us.
I took my Hyundai EV to Ft. Worth on Saturday for its maiden trip outside of Austin and it turned out to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, even bigger than the perm I had in high school which nearly knocked me over because I was freakishly small and my hair was freakishly big.
Apparently an electric car needs a fully charged battery to, you know, move. Instead I made a rookie mistake of not mapping out in detail where the superchargers were along my route which is how I ended up in KILLEEN eating at CHILI’S and subsequently STAYING OVERNIGHT. I could have eaten at OUTBACK STEAKHOUSE but chose NOT TO.
Anyway. When I returned to the civilization of smug gas guzzlers, I noticed a story in the Texas Tribune concerning right-wing conservative Gen Z influencers and their symbiotic relationship with disgraced, indicted and impeached Attorney General Ken Paxton, aka the walking baked potato.
(Can we talk about so-called “influencers”? I’ve never heard such self-important garbage in my entire life. It’s the same as bragging that you’re a “futurist” or “unpaid Substack writer.”)
According to the article, earlier this summer, conservative Gen Z influencers gathered in Ft. Worth to network and swap conspiracy theories while trying to impress the ladies but failing miserably. Mostly because their business cards read, “Gen Z Influencer & Conspiracy Theorist.”
The event was sponsored by a company called Influenceable because Influentialable was already taken. Their mission? Recruit young conservatives to influence their audiences through bogus claims and sorcery without disclosing any business relationships.
Here are some of the conservative influencers advertised on their site. No, it’s not a hooker dating app.
A top action item was to carry the heavy cross of Ken Paxton by accusing Republican House Speaker Dade Phelan of being an alcoholic during impeachment proceedings. Solid. I accuse people of being alcoholics all the time, especially at family reunions and children’s playdates. They also blamed RINOs through a series of blistering social posts for the completely unwarranted attack on Paxton, all because he broke several laws.
One tactic was to paint Paxton as the victim of a political witch hunt that will stop at nothing until they throw him in Lady Bird Lake to see if he’ll float or sink. If he floats, he’ll be killed and if he sinks, he’ll be dead. Oops!
The influencers are now peddling some movie called “Sound of Freedom,” which bears no resemblance to “Sound of Music,” save for the haunting “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” duet.
The movie, which was a darling at Sundance this year, tells the “true story” of Operation Underground Railroad and its founder, Tim Ballard, a QAnon conspiracist who’s supposedly saving children being trafficked by satanic Democrats. They may not come right out and blame the Democratic party but all you have to do is a little Bing research to confirm.
Really there was only one star who could portray such a heroic figure but Kirk Cameron was busy taking down library smut. So after asking Scott Baio, Dean Cain and Kristy Swanson, they settled on the card-carrying QAnon member Jim Caviezel.
You might remember Caviezel from Mel Gibson’s “The Passion of the Christ.” He played Jesus, who walks on water to save Ken Paxton during a terrible storm. (I still haven’t seen that movie. Do not tell me how it ends.)
“Sound of Freedom” uses child sex trafficking for its own political agenda so of course it’s playing in all major theaters. For some odd reason, Mira Sorvino’s in it. I guess she couldn’t wait to deliver the line, “You quit your job and go rescue those kids.”
Bravo! But I think Paxton is just half-baked.