My Name Is Brad Wesley and I Approved This Message, by Dave Housley

My fellow Americans,

There is a certain freedom that a man can only experience when he is driving his car down both sides of the highway, swooping in and out of lanes, blissful in his own rugged American individualism, the wind blowing in his thinning hair, the strains of doo-wop blasting through the radio. The open road! When a rich man enjoys the fruits of his labor by drifting toward oncoming traffic, secure in the knowledge that he is expressing his freedom by threatening a full-on collision with another innocent and almost certainly less wealthy motorist, I think we can all agree that what we are seeing is nothing short of the pursuit of the American Dream.

Do I demand my share of the road? I do, Americans. Darn tootin’ I do.

I am a builder. I’ve built, swindled, blackmailed, and bullied the town of Jasper Missouri from a sad little outpost to a thriving modern community with an auto repair shop, a Ford dealer, diner, and road house. I got the mall here, the 7-11, the fotomat. Christ, JC Penney is coming here because of me!

I assure you, my fellow citizens, that every last one of those businesses kicks back roughly fifty percent of all profits to me, Brad Wesley. Are the prices for your macrobrews and bottom shelf whiskey shots a little more expensive due to my influence? Are the Escorts and F150s at Stodenmire’s Ford priced just a bit over market to make up for the twenty cars I ran over with my monster trucks?

What we should really be asking, friends, is aren’t monster trucks awesome? Are they awesome, America? They are. You’re right. Clap all you want. Clap for American might, for giant wheels. The biggest wheels!

The question I put to you is shouldn’t a man with several monster trucks and ruthless henchmen to drive them be able to do any goddam thing he pleases? Wouldn’t such a man, like me, Brad Wesley, be under an obligation to do whatever he wants with those monster trucks and evil henchmen and the price of your Ford F150s? In the scheme of things, Americans, isn’t a few hundred of your hard-earned dollars a small price to pay for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? For me, Brad Wesley?

I look around this road house tonight and what I see is America. I see beards. Flannel. The wonderful fruits of the most technologically advanced country in the world as they are expressed through the miracle of breast enhancement surgery. I see a lot of interesting personal grooming choices. A generational lack of dental insurance. I see the bruised knuckles and black eyes that come from our deep history of American free speech. Free speech, people. I will wait while you celebrate it with your applause and shouts of wooo. 

What our community needs is a fighter. You know me. I’m rich. I’m a fighter. Not like my opponent, who is poor. Has he ripped the occasional larynx out of a grown man in a riverfront fistfight?  Some would tell you that he has but I would say this is fake news. Rumor. Gossip. Believe what you can see with your own eyes, my friends. This hat? Five hundred dollars worth of Kansas City finery. Only in America!

Believe your eyes, my friends. Have I bought the Jasper Times, KEJP, the regional television stations, and the penny saver, only to shut them down or sell to the Sinclair Broadcast Group. I have. We do not need the crooked media to see what is in front of us here in Jasper Missouri. Believe your eyes, friends, when you look upon the burning husk that used to be Red Webster’s auto shop, the crushed cars behind Stodenmire’s Ford, the garbage bags full of bodies that sit at the bottom of the lake beside my very own mansion.

A mansion! I live in a mansion, friends. Two pool tables. Why would a man have two pool tables in his living room? The American Dream!

Abortion? Have you seen my henchmen? Friends, I have paid for my share. Life begins at 16 weeks. Life begins at conception. Life begins when an attractive trollop flashes her breasts at strangers for money. I’ve seen your little wastrels toddling around our fair grocery stores and check-cashing establishments and what I say my fellow Americans is this: I say more. More mouths to feed. More food stamps. More dollars ringing up through all the cash registers kicking back fifty percent to me, Brad Wesley. More is what made America great and you, my fellow Americans, deserve more.

We all deserve more, America! But if I leave you with one message today let it be that mostly the person who deserves more is me, Brad Wesley.

Thank you for your vote. God bless America. This message was approved by me, Brad Wesley.