First Martha Coakley Comes For the Garden Clubs, And Then She’ll Come For the Coffee Clubs – By Patricia Melton and the Mineral City Coffee Club
My name is Patricia Melton, President-for-Life of the Mineral City Coffee Club, and today I write to you outraged that Massachusetts Attorney General Martha Coakley has declared war on Garden Clubs in the Bay State, which is one slippery slope and potted azalea away from Coakley launching a nationwide assault on Ladies’ Guilds, Model Train Hobbyist Associations, Big Thinkers’ Societies, and, I shudder at the thought, COFFEE CLUBS THEMSELVES.
Women named Martha are not supposed to hate gardeners. Martha Washington didn’t hate gardeners, and in fact often invited them over for coffee, and sometimes tea, at Mount Vernon. She even served small cookies, which historians all agree, after much debate, were lovely. Martha Stewart, clearly, doesn’t hate people who garden, though she might yell at them if they aren’t doing something right, like mulching properly. To my knowledge, neither Martha Reeves, nor her Vandellas, had anything against gardeners or gardening.
Martha Coakley’s gone too far this time.
Not only does she want to tax union health plans into oblivion and thinks we should just cut and run in Afghanistan, but now she’s threatening to cart little old ladies who spend their days volunteering to keep traffic islands beautiful in jail.
“I just hate flowers, and I hate people who plant flowers. I have hay fever something awful all summer and fall, and it’s these damn Garden Clubs that are to blame. When I lunched with Caroline and Vicki Kennedy the other day, I told them about this, after the waiter sprinkled too much pepper on Caroline’s salad and caused her to sneeze, which made me think of the hay fever and those damn Garden Clubs. As Caroline kicked the server soundly in his groin for upsetting her, she told me I needed to use my public position to get things I wanted personally, which is what the Kennedys have always done. She told me since I have already won the Senate race and practically hold the Kennedy Seate in Washington already, I needed to start doing reckless and stupid things for myself abusing my public authority, Kennedy-style. If the Kennedys can stop green technology and wind power development in Massachusetts because it would slightly obscure their views of the ocean at Hyannis Port, then I can weed out Garden Clubs, prevent them from beautifying communities, and eliminate all flowers in Massachusetts so that I won’t have to sneeze as much. I am Martha Coakley, I have already won the Kennedy Seat, and so this is what I am doing. If you don’t like it, tough salvia, Garden Clubs.”
That’s what my friend Grace told me Martha Coakley said, and Grace is an excellent transcriptionist, with an ear for getting all the facts straight.
Our Club’s Secretary, Helen, who has been following Coakley’s attacks on Garden Clubs closely, told me ‘things are really bad in Massachusetts”. Apparently, they come for anyone with a green thumb in the dead of night, dragging you out into the street, shouting so all the neighbors can hear, telling them all that “this is what happens when you garden in Coakley’s Massachusetts, let this be a lesson to the rest of you”.
Annabelle, our Club’s Treasurer, told me there’s an underground railroad, above ground, forming for gardeners to escape Massachusetts before Martha Coakley can lock them in jail. People are making their way from Home Depot to Home Depot, hiding in the spacious garden departments, concealed in Karl Forester grass and yew bushes, ultimately following interstate highways to New Jersey, the Garden State, where many believe they’ll be safe from Coakley’s persecution.
I, however, do not believe she’ll stop at the state lines, not if she becomes a United States Senator.
“I plan on going after gardeners nationwide if elected to the Senate,” is what a Martha Coakley puppet I had made said this morning in a play we did for my cat-babies telling them about what Coakley is up to. “I hate gardeners, and I hate cat-babies, and I want to be a Senator to shut down all clubs that people belong to, because I want the government to interfere in as many people’s lives as possible. If something is nice, I want to smash it. If something is growing and thriving, I want to pour acid all over it. If something’s not broken, I will make it the opposite of not being broken and break it a whole bunch. That’s what I am going to do in the Senate, and no one can stop me”. And then Martha just laughed and laughed, until Grace’s hand got tired and Helen couldn’t keep doing the Martha laughing because her voice got hoarse and she needed more coffee for her throat (it was Cinnamon Mocha).
There will be no more coffee for anyone if Martha Coakley has her way, as I suspect her full frontal assualt on Massachusetts gardeners is just a ruse for her real plan: to attack Coffee Clubs coast to coast and internationally, as she knows full well we are the salons of political discourse and hatcheries for grassroots activism in this nation.
“I see you’ve spotted my real plan,” Martha said in my kitchen, “I will shut down all Coffee Clubs, Pattymelt, and you and your little country mice in Mineral City can never stop me. Never! Once I establish precedent by locking all the gardeners away, I’m going to take this show on the road, and soon I’ll be at your aquaculture farm in Mineral City where I will take great delight in shutting down your little operation. I will drink all of your Cinnamon Mocha, and redistribute the rest of your coffee to people who do not work hard and don’t deserve it. If you try to stop me, I will call you RAAACISTS, because that’s what Liberals do!”.
Just then, Mr. Brownie, the most courageous of all my cat-babies, sprang from my kitchen table and sank his claws deep into Martha, ripping her paper bag head in two and scampering off with her yellow yarn hair. He almost got Grace’s hand with his claws. That Brownie is one motivated and revved up PUMA, standing up for what’s right, and telling Liberal Democrats they can take a hike, let me tell you. He’s getting extra treats later for his heroism, and I don’t care HOW jealous my husband Earl will be at that (as he’s not allowed any more treats until he cleans up the basement).
I don’t know who Martha Coakley thinks she is, a Kennedy or whatever, but I hope voters in Massachusetts do to her what Brownie did to the puppet that was channeling and representing Coakley here in Mineral City. The real Martha’s nothing more than a puppet for the Liberal lunatics who are destroying this country, so we hope, at the ballot box on January 19th, the people of Massachusetts help Scott Brown rip Coakley’s paper bag head off and take back “The Kennedy Seat” for the people.
If you think I will sit idly by and let you attack gardeners without realizing that letting you get away with that sets you up to do more evil later, then you’ve got another thing coming.
We’re all phone-banking for Scott Brown today, and we hope you ask people to do the same thing.
President-for-Life, the Mineral City Coffee Club
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