John Boston | A New Federal Kill Switch for Cars & Liberals

John Boston

It is beyond wearying trying to keep up with the shenanigans of the politicians and bureaucrats without number that plague the American landscape. I just spent several hours trying to figure out whether Washington is trying to mandate that a “Kill Switch” be implanted on all new car sales, starting in 2026. Or? Is it just another one of those hysterical internet/media hoaxes? 

Still. The political animal is a bloated one and finds ways to take 10,000 pages to say, “Stop on red, go on green.” 

Earlier this week, Kentucky Republican Rep. Tom Massie introduced an amendment to defund the portion of yet another, unreadable and gigantic bill that requires all 2026 vehicles to have, along with tires, a windshield and glove compartment, a federally controlled kill switch. 

I’m not much of a conspiracy theory guy. Why? Too lazy. Short attention span. But, I’m guessing the cloven-foot Democrats who invented this alleged legislation simply want to expand their goal of human domination in words, deeds and thoughts. They assure us that the device will not be connected to voter registration and if you checked the box for Donald Trump, your new SUV, via AI, won’t nervously chuckle, accelerate to 246 mph and aim for the nearest mighty oak. 

Strangely enough, I’m not against the concept of keeping an eye on my fellow Americans or, more importantly, those on the Left who identify as lobster bisque soup. I’m a proud Donald “Yeah. Don’t Like You, Either” Trump supporter. We need someone a little more nuts than Genghis Khan to combat the country’s current wokeness. If we get control of both houses and the Oval Office, I’d like to see quickly rubber-stamped legislation that not only keeps track of dangerous, whackazoid Democrats, but also causes them genital rashes. 

I’m thinking of a perfectly innocent, fine print/invisible ink rider on some future conservative 49,006-page law. Perhaps call it, “The 2026 Healthy Teeth For Kids Amendment.” Using the Orwellian thinking of the Left, we just “reimagine” a “Kid” as being anyone who we jolly well say is a kid. And, “Healthy Teeth” are actually electronically location-tracking dental implants. Sensors will go off if a Democrat buys poster boards, spray paint, a ski mask or is chanting through a megaphone. Vivacious curvy cheerleaders — girl cheerleaders — obviously exempt. A debilitating electric charge will go off and cause all the muscles in the offending Democrat’s sphincter to go limpy-limp. 

I’m not a science guy, but I suspect perhaps the device will have to be coated in rubber, elsewise, the flash flood of human waste products, coupled with a severe shock, might cause electrocution to millions of liberals. 

Oh … dear me. Sigh. 

I’m leaning back, smiling. What a beautiful thought. Soylent Green is no longer just people, it’s soggy, whiny, woke, obnoxious liberal people. 

The Democrats (and even a few alleged Republicans) are in favor of a life romantic, as crooned by pop singer Sting: “Every move you make, every breath you take, I’ll be watching you.” 

Me? That song always struck me as The National Anthem for the mentally unstable. And yet, people, especially girl people and serial killer people, quietly bob their heads to and fro, smiling in sympathetic rhythm. Over a song about stalking. 

Kill switches. May I have one that stops all traffic and turns all lights green? What a beautiful commute. Or, you’re dining out and the chef prepares Brussel sprouts, cauliflower and lima beans for the side veggie with your steak. A kill switch in his paring knife initiates and your cook lightly pokes himself, as many times as necessary, in the butt to remind him not to serve, under any circumstance — ever — Brussel sprouts, cauliflower and lima beans. 

Lawyers call it, “Justifiable Homicide.” 

I think there should be kill switches for weddings. You’re about to marry a T.W.P. (The Wrong Person.) A government watchdog hits a button. Storm clouds appear inside the church. Bats fly frantically about. That creepy chorus from one of those old Damian movies starts moaning. An implant in your throat causes you to hack uncontrollably before you can blurt, “I — (sorry; couldn’t say the second word; started coughing) …” 

I have friends who claim schizophrenia. They proudly claim themselves, “… fiscally conservative but liberal on social issues.” Installing the right Kill Switch would cause males to grow a larger pair and females to file some of the edge off. 

We could insert Kill Switches into dogs, so they don’t have to take baths. We can install Kill Switches in government-provided spoons so that when ice cream is being delivered to our mouths, the spoon will flip a 180, thus extending our lifespan by possibly minutes. The country seems to be limping toward this anyway — what about a Kill Switch that disallows the experience of Life, Itself? 

A kill switch in new cars? 

I’m sure the ever-growing and criminally useless bureaucracy will have to create a new cabinet post, build some buildings, print some stationery, buy out-of-date software and hire a few hundred thousand minions to mitigate, investigate, regulate and punish the shrinking rest of us. 

I was kind of hoping that around 2026, when my ship should be coming in, I could finally afford that brand-new six-figure rock’n’roll pickup I’ve always wanted. I’m taking my new 4-by-4 out for its first major road trip, rolling up north along scenic Highway 1.  

Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Bad Moon Rising” is pounding over the FM. Next thing, my truck accelerates to 146 and I’m headed smack dab toward a large, shark-encircled rock.  

As I’m sailing through the air toward the deep blue Pacific, my radio is taken over by horrific static. A nasally robotic and annoying AI voice interrupts over all 47 of my stereo speakers with an eerie, albeit strangely soothing message: 

“John. This is the Democratic National Committee. We don’t like that song. And you know what else? We don’t like you …” 

Santa Clarita’s John Boston is the most prolific humorist/satirist in world history. Visit his bookstore at

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