By Contributor on February 05, 2014

This article originally appeared in the Feb. 2014 edition of The Progressive. For more great content like this, subscribe today and get a whole year of the magazine for as little as $10.


By Ian Murphy

To summarize this book in a word: sublimely-triumphant-funkalicious-masterpiece.

The authors pleasantly demolish everything this reviewer thought he knew about books, fiction, nonfiction, what words mean -- the very nature of reality. I scarcely know how to discuss this work's fiery brilliance without setting my brain ablaze. In which genre does one even place such unique artistic magnificence? How does one fathom its import?

I've read this book five times -- twice forward, twice backwards, and once in a diagonal fashion while driving -- and I don't think it hyperbole to suggest this transcendent work is the dutifully transcribed voicemail of God.

Sowing the hitherto undiscovered, and incredibly fertile, literary valley between James Frey's A Million Little Pieces and L. Ron Hubbard's Dianetics, this Governor's Story is both an inventive memoir and a thorough exploration of an honest, totally reasonable philosophy -- economic, political, and spiritual. It's a true treasure for the political mind, teaching all with eyes why this courageous man must become President of these great United States.

And the usual swine derisively squeal.

Much ado has been made over supposed "falsehoods."

Example: The governor writes that a throng of craven protesters violently beat on the windows of his vehicle, rocking its weighty carriage, while he bravely visited a generic widget factory in Wheresville. Surprise, surprise, some foulmouthed union blogger says it never happened, that it's not described anywhere in the press or on social media at the time of the alleged attack. However, since the book's release, many media reports quote Walker's account of the traumatic event directly from the book, so it definitely probably happened.

That's just how facts work, people. Absence of evidence is not evidence that a thing did not happen to a governor who says the thing happened.

Another drive-by media "gotcha" moment: In describing the infamously unscrupulous "David Koch" prank call, Walker writes, "We never -- never -- considered putting 'troublemakers' in the crowd to discredit the protesters." And now some claim -- just because Walker can clearly be heard saying, "We thought about that" during the recorded phone call -- that he and his staff actually did think about planting troublemakers.

Poppycock! Photographs can be altered, audio can be edited with a click of a mouse. The truth is we'll never really know what was said during that recorded conversation. It's ultimately a battle of credibility between a serving U.S. governor and a lowly blogging blogger who refers to himself in the third person, and is probably snorting something as he types these words.

The same ruminant, drug-addled blogging blogger who duped poor Walker blogged for the blog Politico that Unintimidated was a Stalinesque effort "aimed at duping future historians and contemporary wonks." Can you imagine Marc Thiessen, former chief speechwriter for President George W. Bush, penning even a single lie for his employer's political gain? To even suggest such a thing is, frankly, un-American.

The litany of unfounded liberal complaints about this amazing, historic tome are a litany of unfounded liberal complaints and, therefore, deserve no further consideration. Instead, this review provides a fresh perspective on some of the lesser-covered, undeniable facts -- revelations that Walker and Thiessen bring to light.

March 2011: The capitol is under siege. Leftover '60s radicals, likely queer college professors, and an entitled caste of thuggish union sorcerers representing Satanic Warlocks Local 666 cast a dark political spell by shouting, "Whose house? Our house!" in a mirror 5,000 times. I was there. And Walker's portrayal is wholly accurate. Thought dead for thousands of years and three weeks that Wednesday, the scaly red beast was merely dormant, taking a lil' nap, and now it rises from the depths, the tunnels beneath the capitol that often smell of freshly baked bread and rotting legislation. Its massive wings flap, knocking over everyone wearing a suit, its nuclear breath incinerating anyone not protected by the magically liberal stench of marijuana and body odor.

Hundreds are dead, strewn about the gum-covered marble floors. It's absolute bedlam, as the monster swirls about the relatively small rotunda. A lone silhouette appears on the third floor railing, perched proudly, yet precariously, far above the bust of Fightin' Blob La Follette -- who many mistake for Martin Sheen, and not so many mistake for Joe Estevez. The quiet is eerie, save for the flap. Flap. Flap. Flap. A strong, fearless, manly, moral, Presidential cry rings forth: "Unlike Act 10, you shall not pass!"

The massive reptile has barely a chance to look up before the dashing figure is hurtling toward him, sword drawn, plunging through its skull. The red menace appears stunned, briefly realizing its own mortality, before collapsing thunderously under its own lifeless weight.

The dust clears and it's Scott Walker, heroically standing atop the bloody beast, wiping his sword clean on a vanquished soul's disgusting dreadlocks.

"Consider your budget repaired," the governor quips, before engaging his jet pack and flying back to the third floor, narrowly escaping a barrage of poison-tipped blow-darts the protesters shoot from their makeshift bamboo crack-bongs.

According to Walker, dragon and chewing gum damage to the capitol cost taxpayers a reported $1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, rounded up to the nearest dollar, with most costs incurred scraping chewing gum.

It's a truly breathtaking scene pulled straight from modern American history. And very few, if any, in the liberal media have taken note of this remarkable passage.

They want to say this whole book is just a giant, mostly fact-free PR whitewash, a printed advert for higher office, heavy on fluffy, ridiculous, trickle-down rhetoric and extremely light on presenting a case for policy that appeals only to the sadistic ultra-rich and the masochistic ultra-dumb.

They're intent on harping on this brave governor's "John Doe" legal problems, yet none of these "reporters" even bothered to call this Doe fella. Where the hell is this dude?

The most wonderful aspect of Unintimidated is, without a doubt, Walker's shocking candor. His humility. His ability to own up to his own mistakes.

And, of course, how he kicks so much commie-dragon tail. But his sense of responsibility and accountability is what makes for truly good reading, great leadership, and a solid shot at the White House in 2016.

Now, I know what you're thinking: I'm completely full of shit, and I'm probably full of shit because it would be really amazing for me, the fake-David-Koch-prank-call-guy, if Scotty became President someday. Well, sir or madam, I won't dignify you or your evil dragon with a response.

And there's a bunch of stuff about God. And the magic, not-at-all-pandering power of God. And God's last-known vessel on this Earth: an obscure character named Reginald Raygun, who transforms seamlessly between acting as Walker's spirit animal and bipedal, undead political shaman. OK, I skimmed the last quarter of the book. It's really just a "What have we learned?" type recap, anyway.

Damn it, I read it all; I just don't want to give you radicals any ideas. But in the interest of fairness, I will say, get off your damn Segways and don't pour beverages on people's heads. But that is the problem with "popular" movements, huh? You can always pick out a hippie goat-boy 9/11 Truther, and smear the whole bunch. And that's why my new suit-clad buddies will always win the perception war.

This funkalicious masterwork is fundamentally a hero's journey from decent God-fearing governor to decent God-fearing governor. And all the perils, the vicious enemies that he's conquered, the Democratic cowards he outwitted, and the evil socialist horde he's left singing feebly in his mighty, yet superhumble, wake of honesty and goodness and sunshine.

Ian Murphy is formerly a blogging blogger who very recently found Jesus at a Home Depot and now fully endorses Scott Walker for President. Because America and whatnot.

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By Wendell Berry

Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front

Love the quick profit, the annual raise,
vacation with pay. Want more 
of everything ready made. Be afraid 
to know your neighbors and to die.
And you will have a window in your head.
Not even your future will be a mystery 
any more. Your mind will be punched in a card 
and shut away in a little drawer.
When they want you to buy something 
they will call you. When they want you
to die for profit they will let you know. 
So, friends, every day do something
that won’t compute. Love the Lord. 
Love the world. Work for nothing. 
Take all that you have and be poor.
Love someone who does not deserve it. 
Denounce the government and embrace 
the flag. Hope to live in that free 
republic for which it stands. 
Give your approval to all you cannot
understand. Praise ignorance, for what man 
has not encountered he has not destroyed.
Ask the questions that have no answers. 
Invest in the millennium. Plant sequoias.
Say that your main crop is the forest
that you did not plant,
that you will not live to harvest.


Say that the leaves are harvested 
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus 
that will build under the trees
every thousand years.
Listen to carrion—put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come. 
Expect the end of the world. Laugh. 
Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful
though you have considered all the facts. 
So long as women do not go cheap 
for power, please women more than men.
Ask yourself: Will this satisfy 
a woman satisfied to bear a child?
Will this disturb the sleep 
of a woman near to giving birth? 
Go with your love to the fields.
Lie easy in the shade. Rest your head 
in her lap. Swear allegiance 
to what is nighest your thoughts.
As soon as the generals and the politicos 
can predict the motions of your mind, 
lose it. Leave it as a sign 
to mark the false trail, the way 
you didn’t go. Be like the fox 
who makes more tracks than necessary, 
some in the wrong direction.
Practice resurrection.

Wendell Berry is a poet, farmer, and environmentalist in Kentucky. This poem, first published in 1973, is reprinted by permission of the author and appears in his “New Collected Poems” (Counterpoint).

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