Folks, I’m so steamed up right now I could melt the paint off a battleship! They’ve gone and done it this time. Plopped a 60-foot Kim Kardashian balloon right smack in the middle of Times Square like it’s some kind of national treasure! I saw the pictures, and let me tell you, I nearly choked on my Freedom Fries! There she is, floating above the greatest city in the world, puffed up like a giant swimsuit ad, grinning down at us poor saps like she owns the joint! Well, I’ve got news for you, Kimmy. America ain’t your personal billboard, and I’m sick and tired of this celebrity circus making a mockery of everything decent!
First off, who in the Sam Hill thought this was a good idea? Some pointy-headed marketing genius probably said, “Hey, let’s blow up a reality TV dame and stick her where the Statue of Liberty oughta be!” They’re hawking swimsuits, they say—like anybody in New York’s buying bikinis in March when it’s colder than a penguin’s backside out there! Back in my day, Times Square was about real Americans—taxi drivers, hot dog vendors, guys selling knockoff watches. Not some inflated Hollywood floozy blocking out the sun! Now every tourist with a selfie stick is snapping pics of this monstrosity instead of honoring the red, white, and blue. It’s enough to make a bald eagle cry!
WHO MADE HER QUEEN?!
And don’t get me started on the Kardashians! I’m madder than a wet cat in a dryer over this whole clan! They’ve been prancing around on TV for years, turning brains to mush with their whining and their million-dollar weddings that last shorter than a hiccup! Kim’s the ringleader, strutting around with her fancy clothes and her backside that’s got its own zip code! Now they’ve blown her up bigger than the Goodyear Blimp, and for what? To sell stretchy underwear to folks who’d rather watch her than read a history book! Whatever happened to real heroes getting the spotlight—George Washington crossing the Delaware, John Wayne riding into the sunset—not some dame who’s famous for being famous?
This balloon’s an insult to every hardworking American who ever punched a clock or saluted a flag! You think our Founding Fathers fought Redcoats so we could stare up at a giant Kim Kardashian grinning like she invented apple pie? No sir! They’d be spinning in their graves faster than a top if they saw this! And the cost—holy smokes, the cost! I’ll bet my last nickel it took a fortune to inflate that thing—money that could’ve gone to fixing potholes or buying tanks to keep the commies in line! Instead, we’re wasting helium—helium, folks, a precious resource!—so Kim can hover over us like the Queen of Glitzville!
NO MORE COCONUTS!
I say we pop that balloon right now! Get a couple of good ol’ boys with BB guns, or better yet, a fighter jet to strafe it out of the sky! Let it crash down in a heap of rubber and glitter, and then we can all go back to being proud Americans instead of gawking at this nonsense! Times Square oughta be a shrine to liberty, not a launching pad for some reality star’s ego trip! And while we’re at it, let’s round up the rest of the Kardashians and ship ‘em off to some deserted island where they can pose for selfies with the coconuts—leave the mainland to folks who know the value of a hard day’s work!
I’m telling you, this country’s gone plumb loco! We’ve got giant balloons of bimbos floating around while China’s slapping tariffs on our bacon and Tesla’s turning into a rust bucket! Wake up, America! Kick these Hollywood hotshots to the curb and take back our streets! I’m Ed Anger, and I’m madder than a bull with a burr under its saddle—and you should be too! Pop that balloon, and let’s get back to what made this nation great—V8 engines, apple pie, and not a single blasted Kardashian in sight!
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