Is My Bow Too Big? How I Went From Saturday Night Live to the Tea Party (24 page)

I’ve interviewed many Cubans who have escaped Communism on rafts. They tell me Communism is here. Stand-up comic Al Romero’s parents sent him on a plane alone at the age of eleven to Miami, because Cuba issued a law that the state would “own” all children, and they would be required to attend boarding schools nine months out of the year for Communist indoctrination. Al said, “In Cuba, kindergarten teachers would tell the children to bow their heads, close their eyes, and pray to God and ask Him for candy. When they opened their eyes, there was no candy. Then they were told to bow their heads, close their eyes, and pray to Castro for candy. When the children opened their eyes, candy was in front of them.”

Our only hope from the threat of Communism is God’s mercy. But He calls us to do something, and of the sixty-six million Christians here—
half
haven’t even registered to vote! II Chronicles 7:14 says, “If… my people who are called by My name humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, will forgive their sin and will heal their land.” Simple as that.

Tea party strangers instantly become friends for life. I met a Bob Root on the Tea Party Express and he invited me to speak in his town of Perry. He said, “You can stay at my home instead of a hotel when you’re up here. We have a big house in the woods.” I agreed and hung up the phone. Then, I realized I had just accepted an invitation to stay in a stranger’s home in the woods. He could be an ax murderer for all I know. Thankfully, he wasn’t.

Somehow I end up at a press conference in Tallahassee, fighting HB 7117. Two handsome suits named Slade and James greet me with smiles. They are kind to trust a comedienne with their microphone. I tell James, “My husband voted for Governor Rick Scott, knowing that his police salary would be cut. My husband, who has risked his life for thirty years protecting the citizens of South Florida, is now making $800 less a month. Paul said, “It’s not about me. It’s about the big picture.” James said, “That’s integrity.”

When the press conference begins, everyone looks so serious—just like an
SNL
sketch right before the joke! A long-haired hippie-looking journalist smiles at me and asks, “Is this a bit?” I launch into a diatribe about how HB 7117 means to usher Communism into my country by Public Private Partnerships (PPPs), which is government interfering with business, government picking the winners and the losers, which is the opposite of free enterprise, which is what made America economically great. This creep of socialism, government control into our ethanol, gas, corn crop, food supply, the smart meters, the refusal to drill for energy here, the fake crises (swine flu, oil, real estate, energy, TARP), the anthropogenic global warming lie, dust mites, smelt, Central Valley water shut down, “sustainable communities,” farmland seizure, industry outsourcing overseas, population control, NGO’s, ICLEI, EPA, and especially the separation of U.S. citizens from their private property are all part of the United Nation’s Agenda 21, a 21st Century plan for a “New World Order,” a one world Marxist government. This global governance was signed onto in Rio in 1992 by Bush and then Clinton, but it began much earlier when the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR), the International Monetary Fund (IMF), the United Nations (UN), the Illuminati, the Club of Rome, the Bilderbergs, and the Tri-Lateral Commission, as elitists, decided to control the world by reducing the population and ensuring that future generations would work as indentured servants …for the State.

Agenda21today.com explains that

. . . You will be required to give up your individual freedom, your personal property and redistribute your wealth. Gone forever will be American exceptionalism, American nationalism, and the western way of life as all will be classified as unsustainable . . .

America is the last stand against global governance therefore it is being hardest hit. The American land mass is the richest in the world but to the globalist, America has one big problem. Unlike most countries, the American people own the land. Americans are free to move around the country, to buy and sell products of their labor and accumulate wealth on their own. All of these are against the UN Agenda 21 communist platform. In order to control Americans, a variety of mechanisms have been put in place using the premise of “helping the environment or saving the planet from man-made global warming.” All of these programs are based on lies and phony science. Laws and regulations using phony data are used to constrain movement, destroy education, remove morality, and destroy the family and God while the Elite focus on divide and conquer techniques to keep Americans confused and separated.

I ended my speech teary eyed. When I saw the playback video, I just wished I had worn my ultra-support bra.

As a beginner political activist, I have made a few
faux pas
. I called Nancy Pelosi one time and got her machine, so I left her a message, “You better not implement the (Un)Fairness Doctrine and take away our freedom of speech,” I said. I realized that my voice sounded like a child so I added, “You better not, or you’ll be sorry.” I hung up my cell-phone. My husband, sitting next to me driving the car, said, “Who were you talking to?”

“Nancy Pelosi.”

He almost crashed the car, “You just threatened the Speaker of the House?!”

“I didn’t threaten her. I was just trying to sound emphatic.”

“Vicki! You just threatened the third in line! They take this stuff seriously! There’ll probably be the Secret Service at our house when we get home waiting to take you to jail.”

“Jail? But…”

My stomach got butterflies. Paul always said that putting me in politics was like giving a baby a razor blade. “Well, at least I’d get skinny in jail…and I could work on my Master’s Degree. You get free college there, right?”

Paul was still freaking out. He’s a cop, so he knows this stuff. So I called Pelosi’s machine back and said, “Um, I just called to talk about freedom of speech, uh, this is Victoria Jackson… I was just trying to sound emphatic. I’m not threatening you or anything…”

Paul exploded, “What! You just gave them your name! What are doing?!”

“But, they’ll know me anyway, right? Doesn’t the Secret Service know how to find people from their cell phones?”

Soon after that, a couple started hanging around me. They followed me to dinner after a Westwood Tea Party and said they were Christians and in the military. I thanked them effusively for their service and said, “What part?”

“Intel.”

I said, “What’s that?”

“Intelligence.”

They never talked about themselves, and their stories didn’t match. Their dark-windowed van had a big antenna on top. They asked too many questions and had too many things in common with us: they loved acting, cop stuff, flying, art, etc. They invited themselves over to our home and stayed for hours. They just happened to be moving from CA to FL exactly when we were, so they continued their sudden friendship across the country. They always called us. I never called them. Finally, the wife asked for my new address so she could attend my Women Impacting the Nation meeting. I just couldn’t text it to her. Instead I texted, “You seem like a really sweet person, but I think you might be a spy, so I can’t relax around you. I won’t be returning your calls anymore.”

I had nothing to hide, but it’s a strange feeling to hang out with someone who you perceive is doing government research on you.

I called Henry Waxman’s office one day to tell him I was very against the Hate Crimes Bill. I said to the voice that answered the phone, “All crime is hate crime. This is just part of the gay agenda.”

The voice replied incredulously, “Who? What do… who is this?”

“Victoria Jackson. I’m a beginner political activist, and this bill is ultimately intended to silence Christians, implying that certain Bible verses are ‘hate speech.’ God is love.”

“Did you know that Henry Waxman created the bill?!” the voice replied.

“Well, tell him he’s wrong,” I said and hung up.

In our age there is no such thing as “keeping out of politics.” All issues are political issues, and politics itself is a mass of lies, evasions, folly, hatred, and schizophrenia.

–George Orwell

Singer

Too bad you have a bad voice or you could’ve been a singer.

–Jim Jackson (Dad)

I
’m at an Altadena Tea Party, 2009. I’m late, and standing in the parking lot on my cell-phone talking to my twenty-four-year-old married daughter, Scarlet, who is smack-dab in the middle of a crisis: her recently diagnosed ectopic pregnancy has now provoked her fallopian tube to explode. She is in Miami on the way to a hospital where she will eventually have three blood transfusions. I’m holding my ukulele and trying to decide whether to sing my new song,
There’s a Communist Living in the White House
, at this Tea Party, or take the first flight to Florida and comfort my baby in her moment of need. A tall, handsome guy bounds toward me, smiling exuberantly, and says, “Did you hear my song?” I look at the stranger and say, “What?”

This is a crucial moment in my young daughter’s life, and I’m trying to decide whether to save my baby or save my country. I can’t really save Scarlet—only God and the doctors can do that. Hmm.

I say a prayer and wait for some direction. I decide to fly to Florida after the Tea Party. My other daughter, the teenager, is lying on the hood of our car reading a book called
My Life is F***ed.
(I am oblivious).

Chris Cassone, the tall handsome stranger with the ebullient smile, leads me to the back door of the charming cottage that is packed with people. I stand smushed in the back. I had asked Jonathan Wilson of Pasadena Patriots ahead of time if he would video my song, so we could put the song on the internet and get the message out as soon as possible. Urgency is the thing.

Our country is being destroyed from within, and only a fraction of the American public is even aware of it! The masses were duped into a trendy, racially saturated campaign and voted for a man they knew nothing about, thanks to the mainstream media, which has been going liberal for years and in 2008 decided to just go full out
propaganda.
Why wasn’t Obama’s past—including his Marxist childhood mentor Frank Davis, racist college mentor Professor Derrick Bell, radical hero Saul Alinsky, and Commie comrades Ayres, Jarret, Van Jones, his ACORN associates, and close friend and advisor, hatemonger Jeremiah Wright—thoroughly exposed on one of those in-depth things,
60 Minutes
or whatever? Nope! The TV has become Orwell’s
1984
, and most people are too lazy to even look up that reference.

When it’s my turn to sing, I give the paper with the lyrics to an elderly woman wearing a hat with flowers on it. I haven’t learned the words yet. The crowd cheers and it feels great to be understood. I am not alone.

A few days later, my new friend, Chris Cassone, emailed me a link to his website where a video of my song taken from his cell phone had gotten 2,000 hits. I was horrified. The video was a close up of my double chin. Who was this guy? His enthusiasm must be contained! I immediately had it taken down. Jonathan Wilson and Jim Riley posted a more flattering and professional rendition of
There’s a Communist Living in the White House
, and it went viral.

Back in 1983, the talent scout from
The Tonight Show
, Jim McCawley, told me that I could make a lot more money if I changed my poems to songs. So, I promptly added a C-F-G to all my poetry, and joined A.S.C.A.P. (American Society of Composers, Authors, and Publishers). I’m still waiting for the big bucks to start rolling in. Maybe I didn’t fill out the paperwork correctly. I’ll tell you a little secret—any song can be played with C-F-G or D-C-G. Presto! You’re a singer/songwriter!

My singing debut was at 3 years old warbling, “I’m a Little Teapot” at Camp Ocala. I enjoyed the adrenaline rush. My favorite drug. There was a lot of singing in our Baptist church and I have noticed that all of my original songs seem to follow the same rhythm and rhyme as the old Baptist hymns: