Cancer. Murder. Nazis. All things that one would think would be universally hated. Yet, it's become clear that the latter has become more hit or miss in the United States than ever before. It's becoming acceptable to the point that it's increasingly similar to being asked "Do you prefer Nacho Cheese or Cool Ranch Doritos?"
Such is the case in Wisconsin, where a Nazi march took place last Saturday, garnering national media attention. State Democrats were quick to release statements about the presence of the Blood Tribe — a neo-Nazi group that prides itself on its violent ideology — being in Madison. Morality aside, it was simply a PR slam dunk.
That is, unless you ask Republican politicians in America's Dairyland, who were overwhelmingly silent. Most notably neglecting to decry the hate group was Sen. Ron Johnson, who was elected to his third term last November.
"There's all of this conversation these days — 'Nazis are bad,' 'We need to do something about the Nazis.' My question is, what about me?" began Johnson. "People are worried about the wrong things. Life is so much better when you stop caring so much about death and destruction and start paying more attention to your millions and millions of dollars."
Opponents of the Mankato, Minnesota born senator may argue that Johnson should be worrying about the needs of his constituents, many of whom are rumored to not have millions and millions of dollars.
"Helping my constituents is a fast track to poverty for me. Not trying to garner any sympathy here, but if I started working for Wisconsinites first and foremost, there's a chance that I'd have to sell upwards of a dozen properties. That's more than half!" exclaimed the senator. "Don't get me wrong — I need my voters. But working with the mission of helping them has nothing to do that. All I need to do is get enough campaign donations to flood the air with attack ads and avoid saying bad things about Nazis. It's simple."
Just about everyone understands that sometimes, politicians put their personal beliefs aside for the sake of taking on the platform that will most likely get them elected. Given this, it seems obvious that on the inside, Johnson is torn up about Nazis at his very own state capitol. After all, hating Nazis is as American as apple pie and Nicolas Cage movies.
"For the record, most of my voters are not necessarily neo-Nazis, but by the numbers, chances are that they may be having Thanksgiving dinner with one. Shouldn't everyone feel welcome at the table? Isn't that what the other side always says? Give me your weak, your poor, your hungry...can we not make room for the neo-Nazi?"
After being told "No" in response to his question, Johnson appeared irritated before flashing it away with a Kermit smile and a few blinks of his steely blues.
"Well, I'll tell you what. I'm gonna have to start my reelection campaign in a few years and, when that starts, you can bet I'll be packing my Thanksgiving tables with neo-Nazis," rebuffed Johnson.
Following this, Johnson said "I don't think I'll be able to get a better quote out there than that, so I think I'm good to go!" and asked to be sent a link to "share around" after this article's publication before giving a thumbs up and leaving in high spirits.
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Photo courtesy of the United States Senate Photographic Studio via public domain
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