The Three Stooges of Sanctimony, Otto, Bell, and Ferris
There they are—the three stooges with mouths full of scripture and hearts full of hate.
Just like Kenny Murphy over at KMOG, they know the choreography by heart:
Open with a prayer.
Wrap themselves in the Bible.
Salute the flag like it’s a magic talisman.
Then dive head-first into full-throttle Trump lunacy.
It’s a practiced hypocrisy—smooth, polished, and absolutely shameless. They can quote Corinthians by breakfast and spew conspiracy theories by lunch. Their holy trinity is Fox News, Trumpism, and weaponized ignorance.
Hypocrisy by the Barrel
These folks would deprive kids of a livable future if it meant currying favor with the local Tea Party choir. Kenny, bless his heart, would probably sell his own grandmother into slavery rather than face the reality of what the Republican Party has turned this country into.
Truth, to this crowd, isn’t a value—
it’s an obstacle.
They twist it, bend it, crush it, and when it finally snaps, they plant lies where the truth used to grow. And like weeds, those lies spread. Fast.
God, Guns, and the Grand Delusion
Invoke God?
Check.
Wave the flag?
Check.
Practice a single principle from either?
Absolutely not.
For this crew, the Bible is a prop and the flag is a costume. Christianity becomes a marketing scheme, and patriotism gets shrink-wrapped for radio consumption.
Trump taught them the model:
Greed → grievance → self-promotion → chaos.
They followed like apprentices learning from a master con-artist.
Our Local Disciples of Delusion
Here in our corner of Arizona, they worship at the feet of their chosen saints:
Eli Crane and Wendy Rogers—two of the most enthusiastic torch-bearers for the alternative-reality movement.
Nothing these people say has to be true, it just has to be loud.
Stories matter—
the truth doesn’t.
Give them a conspiracy theory and they’ll swallow it whole.
Give them an honest lecture and they’ll run for the exits.
In the End…
This is what happens when a political movement trades integrity for identity, faith for fury, and country for cult. It becomes a show—loud, angry, and disconnected from reality.
And like all bad shows, it needs three things to stay alive:
A villain
A script
And a cheering section too frightened or too stubborn to admit the obvious
Welcome to the Tea Party gospel,
broadcast daily,
right here in the land that used to be sane.
I.
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