The Reality of Tim Walz

SQUEAL PIG, SQUEAL!!

Why Tim Walz, the governor of the Great State of Minnesota? Personally ugly, intellectually dull, disgusting in appearance, seemingly flatulent in every step he takes, why would any campaign seek to hitch this rotten-apple-headed piece of crap to its star? 

Walz is the second Minnesota native on the ticket in the past three election cycles. You remember Tim Kaine, Hilary's running mate? No? Well, that's the point. Walz the man is garbage, but not the kind of garbage you think about, certainly not the kind of garbage you can be offended by. He’s the kind of industrial refuse that only experts have to deal with, the kind you have to drive past on your way to work and utter an unspoken prayer that it isn’t giving you cancer. Walz is a kind of cipher—but even that is too kind and too cruel to the thing. Because it is cruel to even call him human, for the wretched obese moron with that disgusting toadish smile does not really want to be human or even aspire to be human. He’s something below the full-grown insect, and his bloated face is better compared to a larva or a tadpole than a fully-formed creature. And in this pathetic subjugation is his appeal.

Some context is necessary.

In 2018, the nationally-prominent (first Muslim!) Congressman Keith Ellison resigned his seat in the House and relinquished a near-miss opportunty at heading the DNC to take on the apparently thankless task of being Minnesota's attorney general. Kind of a funny move, from almost being a prince of the Democratic Party to being the chief law enforcement agent in a middling Midwestern state. He was running against a nondescript private attorney who once said something mean to some sodomite and Eagan High School. Ellison was accused of beating up a girlfriend, but when you looked at him he seemed so nice and clean, nearly Obamaesque. Anyway, he won.

That was also the year of the Rise of Tim Walz. Walz for the past decade was a "moderate" congressman in rural farming district of southern Minnesota. It's odd now to think that just fifteen years ago, a vast majority of the rural areas in Minnesota were represented by Democrats. These congressman were all big-government types, always anxious to bring home the pork for their constituents, but nonetheless conservative. Walz was more or less one of them. And while he could equivocate on things like government healthcare and abortion as much as the average “conservative voter,” he was still bound by pieties on things like the Second Amendment, and was happy in this role.

Walz left his spot at the same time as Ellison, he for the role of governor, which was at least plausibly a lateral move. But it was clear that he was nothing but a placeholder, a vague, bulbous, pasty, disgusting slob—but a respectable slob— meant to stand guard for the perverts and freaks below him. And he was the perfect choice. For Timothy Walz has no morals, or sense of intellectual consistency, or even personal dignity which might interfere with standing as a personable front for a leftist revolution. The best image you might conjure is of Ned Beatty (Minnesota resident, by the way) getting raped by a hillbilly in Deliverance and turning around and stammering, “Gee, boy, this is something isn’t it? OOFDA!” That’s how I would summarize Tim Walz: A man who could put a positive spin on his own rape.

Walz won easily in 2018, but still faced a divided congress. Much will be made of his wife's openly red sympathies, his daughter’s participation in Antifa riots, his vile acquiescence to Coronadoom restrictions and openly enabling the bloody beatification of George Floyd. But it is one thing to abuse power, it is another thing to wield it with the consent of the masses below you.

Walz barely showed up to debate in 2022, and won easily against a moderate Republican of some integrity and intellectual courage. But the Republican Party in Minnesota is, as a rule, full of cowards and cads, and gave away the determinative seat in the state House out of spite. The past two years have seen unified Democratic government in both houses of congress. The efficiency with which the DFL has moved is nothing short of astounding. About every bad idea that could be tried has been. Marijuana was completely legalized. Residual amounts of drugs have, in most cases, been decriminalized. They changed the sentence for a gross misdemeanor in the state from one year to 364 days seemingly just for the heck of it.

Other changes are more insidious. Take the new statute called the “Automatic Expungement of Certain Cannabis Offenses.”  That title makes you think that it only applies to previous convictions for marijuana offenses—but read further. The body of the statute refers to Controlled Substance statutes without any particular note of cannabis. The effect has been to extend expungements to a vast array convictions under the Controlled Substance statutes—those for possessing cocaine, methamphetamine, fentanyl—all under the title of cannabis expungement. The Bureau of Criminal Apprehension forced through these expungements before elected officials might raise a fuss (if anyone cared). And now a huge number of meth-heads in the state have clean records (and of course are able to vote, for any felon not on probation (and probation is now limited to five-year terms (it once extended to seven, ten, twenty years based on the offense)) is eligible to vote).

The legislative revolution was not spontaneous. I’d estimate that one in ten criminal statutes has been amended in the past two years, and that is in a realm of law that is easy to observe. The landswells in more abstruse areas of the law are harder to measure. No wise Danton in the Minnesota congress has the intellectual acumen to plot such a revolution so quickly—the thing was a long time in coming, and probably part and parcel of putting a dud like Walz in power in the first place. The year 2023 was simply when the floodgates opened.

And Tim Walz stood dutifly by for all of it. There were plenty of events that might be called “scandals” in another administration, but Walz’s ability to guffaw like the village idiot and stand by while Somalis robbed the native people blind had the effect of totally diffusing the situation. Just look at that moldy sack of fart-vapor. Do you want to blame him of anything? His predecessor in the governorship was a man named Mark Dayton, a hardcore liberal if there ever was one of the FDR and LBJ school. But he was a man of a certain intellectual and personal integrity, who argued against the liberalization of cannabis and gambling laws as clear predation on the poor, as they certainly were. Dayton was a man you could hate and still respect.

Walz is a man below hatred. He has no integrity. He barely has a personhood. You see it right when you look at him—a clown and a dupe, a perfect popinjay, and also a perfect enigma to blend in with the rest of an obese and decadent and decaying society. He is a kind of satire on himself. His disgusting sagging flesh and obscene smile make him his own effigy. Just to exist is, for Tim Walz, an act of mocking Tim Walz. And what are you going to do beyond that, rub it in? That’s certainly not MINNESOTA NICE.

And so you have the key to Walz’s success. He is an idiot, but that’s the point. No one with a lick of sense believed that Joe Biden was running the country either. He is meant to stand as a placeholder, a real folksy figurehead laughing and chortling and stuffing his fat face and shaking hands with Abdul and shedding tears for brown Minnesotans who are just as American as you ’er me, donchaknow—all while the real process of governing is done behind the scenes. Hence why Walz, who for the vast majority of his career was a rural “moderate,” has been met with no opposition from Minneapolis liberals. The liberals of New York, California, and Chicago feel the same way. He is a lard-filled scarecrow keeping away any meaningful opposition.

So he will be for his whore-momma Kamala. He is a proud façade of meat, and he will be in a Harris Administration, should he be given the chance.

Let me close with an excerpt from The Winds of Destiny (now available in Lulu in print, also in ebook, soon available everywhere—and very reasonably priced) in which a “Governor Swinegore” plays a large part.

The Governor’s head was round and white every moment it wasn’t throbbing like a red blister. His middle section was as round and jovial as his head, and the folds of his ample gut guffawed in unison with the jubilant barks from his babyish mouth and self-applauding jowls. When he laughed, he gave the impression of being able to chew his own head like bubble gum: heaving and contracting in a mucussy-sweet goo.

He had been known as a “moderate” when he represented a rural district in the Federal Congress, but only chortled now when you confronted him over his often-fascistic voting record. He was a true Party Man: Resilient against Opposition propaganda, optimistic against untoward facts, proud and unconcerned with the doings of his subordinates, and avuncular with cultivated gibbering. Men would insult him to his face and he would laugh and clap, gobbling up the insult with his big open mouth. One of his opponents claimed he was wallowing like a pig in the mire of Federal handouts. At his next campaign event, his supporters had begun shouting, “Wallow, pig!” and he had chortled and sung. Some grammar experts on Public Radio said it was the first time in History “wallow” had been used in the imperative during a political event. I am the Happyman! he proclaimed with every gumless guffaw. One could cite crime statistics at him for hours and he would purr, or relay the murder of six immigrant children in a tenement house only to see him hold his head back cheerfully and vanquish the crime with a joyous snort. Hatred itself cowered before his mirth, good feelings, and the force of his love. He shook his head. Love wins, he said. One could hate him no more than one could hate a baby. Would you call a baby an embezzler? He dared you to ask. He was a brilliant politician.

That’s Walz for you. He out-whores the notorious whore on the head of his ticket. He lives his life hoping that he is too negligible to deserve hellfire, which is all his supporters can hope for themselves. Walz is the last bastion of a neutered, emasculated white American, for apres Tim are only Jews, perverts, and mystery meat. Tim Walz is subhuman—and he means that as a compliment.