Texas Republicans are now officially required to believe in the Big Lie, or, as some call it, The Vast Flooding River of Bullshit, or the Entirely Unproven Canard About Voter Fraud, or the Murky Sewage-Fest of Squirmy Allegations about the Mango Man winning the last election.
This, despite Trump’s Feast of Obvious Ordure currently having its nose held over it by Liz Cheney and her buds, and its various untruths, including the one about the ex-Caucasian-in-Chief actually believing that he had won, being exposed like dog turds in a hard rain.
The Republican Party of Texas officially cannot believe that Trump lost. They have formally taken up residence in the tight balloon of all-my-neighbors-voted-for-Trump-so-he-must-have-won. These are people that went to the rallies, nearly drowned each other in boat parades for Trump, belong to Bikers for Trump, or People in Supermarket Diabetes Carts for Trump, or just the Oath Boys.
They just refuse to believe he lost. Why? Because they know that if flags in pickup trucks could vote, Trump would have won the last election.
The question is, what is the next conspiracy theory that the Republicans of Texas are going to pick up and go with? This one’s not going to have much staying power, as other Republican contenders are going to pay lip service to Trump while they cruelly destroy his chance for the next Republican nomination by promising to get their fascist on while not destroying the Constitution. Or being in prison.
Not that NASA faked the moon landings, that’s for sure. Texas Republicans may be stupid, but the spirit of Texas boosterism runs proudly and mindlessly through their veins, and NASA is headquartered in Houston.
Nor will it be that 911 was a false-flag operation. George Bush is from Texas, and while he ought to be ashamed of himself for being Jeb’s brother, he certainly wasn’t mixed up with them Al-Qaidos.
The thinking here is that it’s going to be the Flat Earth. For one thing, most of Texas is mind-numbingly flat. Unbelievingly, monotonously flat. So flat, that when you’re driving across it, you’re relieved when you see another ugly sign for a Flying J truck stop sticking up out of the prairie, just because your brain has been longing to see something perpendicular. It is the biggest ironing-board of a state this side of Kansas. It’s flatter than a plastic cup of Lone Star accidentally left out on the picnic table from last week’s barbecue (Bar-B-Q, sorry).
Texas is one of the easiest places to believe in the Flat Earth on Earth.
And for sure, the Republicans of Texas aren’t worried about being pushed over the edge.
They already live there.