Russian To Judgement

What to do when my creative side hops a bus outta town? Why . . ramble on about the current state of shitty affairs, of course. So Imma dish up a top ten list: As in the top ten reasons why Trump won and is still behind the wheel of our fifty state semi even if his drivers license should have been revoked in . . oh let’s just say January of 2017.

1- High fructose corn syrup: It’s a medically proven fact that the rapid fluctuation of blood sugar can detrimentally impact our mental well-being, and in some cases it can worsen existing mood disorders. And really if you had to diagnose the last three years  . . it would have to fall under the category of mood disorder.

2- Bread and circuses: Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it fell quickly enough . . thanks to a debilitating indifference shown by its citizenry when it came to matters of the republic. America’s diet is rich in gladiator games- from the NFL to UFC- and now with the end of prohibition as far as gambling goes . . most peeps are more concerned with their lack of flow than with how the country is being run.

3- Our love affair with brands: It wouldn’t seem that the two are related, but hear me out. Trump has always been a brand, and too many people behave as consumerists in every facet of their lives. The culmination of these two merged, and there is no refund.

4- It’s Obama’s fault: Everything was his fault, according to the opposition. So why not this?

5- The NFL: They never wanted Trump in their owners clique, as much as he wanted to own a club. So instead of making a single fan base suffer in perpetuity, more than half the country has to live under a WTF cloud. When you consider the fact that a bunch of rich old white guys who never tire of listening to themselves talk couldn’t stand Trump’s rap . . .  well, that says it all doesn’t it?

6-Florida: In the 2000 presidential election, hanging chads, recounts and polling place intrigue created a narrative which effectively satirized the process. Worst case scenarios thus became the expectation.

7- Pat Sajak: He has convinced countless Americans that buying a vowel makes sense. No! If you have a hunch, you go with consonants until you’re certain. You do not risk your short term well being to a rich guy who has bad hair and repeats the same tired lines over and over again.

8- Voters: I’m not suggesting we let the College of Cardinals select our President. It’s just important to remember that the electorate doesn’t have to be informed in order to step behind the curtains. We assume every voter is Tom Brokaw, when the truth of the matter looks more like this genius and this charming individual.

9- Professional Wrestling: Even if you’re not a fan, the pathos of this spectator sport has seeped into our pop culture driven society. Rude is cool, bad is interesting and evil is box office. So back in 2015, when Trump disparaged Mexican people and later trashed Senator John McCain because “I like people who weren’t captured,”, it did not derail his run for office in the least.

10- Michael J. Fox: Let’s face it, he made the snarky conservative know-it-all likable in his turn as Alex Keaton in the ’80’s sitcom Family Ties. Which aired on NBC . . the same network that would later air The Apprentice. The same network, mind you, that re-broadcast The Manchurian Candidate in 1974.

It’s probably all just a crazy coincidence.

Joe Pesci Book Review: Don Quixote (From the archives)

The following post from the archives settles the bar tab on my vacation week. This post comes from a time when I was writing for The 800lb Gorilla. Imma post a warning ahead of time for those of you who are used to reading the mellow fellow I’ve become in my advanced age. This post? Ain’t that. 

WARNING

Don Quixote is the story of this douchebag who’s all fucked up in the head from reading too many fairy tales and shit. He’s a retired guy, probably living on a pension . . which went a long way back then cause he owns a villa and has a housekeeper and shit. The main fucking problem with this guy, outside of the fact that he reads, is that he believes all the stupid shit he’s reading. I mean, he’s really eating all this shit up as if he learned it on the Discovery Channel or CNN or some shit and it was really true . . stupid fuck.

The main character’s name is Alonso Quixano, which kinda reminds me of that moulie rapper . . you know who I’m talking about? Oh no, that’s another story I’m thinking about, that Shakespeare guy wrote it, where the moulie is banging white chicks all over the place and nobody’s chasing him out of the neighborhood for it . . .

So this Alonso fuckhead changes his name to “Don Quixote de la Mancha” so he can be more . . ahh fuck, what’s the word? It rhymes with Chivas Regal . . . more manly. He starts wearing a suit of armor and shit, which I have to say, is a cool part of the story. I always wanted to wear a suit of armor, with sneakers, and like, a little hole cut out in the chest so people could see my gold chains. But no helmet. Don’t fuck with my hair.

And then Don Quixote changes his horse’s name to Rocinante, which is Spanish for Roxanne. I did the same shit with my Riv, I had it detailed back in high school with this Jew chick’s name and then I found out Jimmy? The fucking guy who did the work on it? . . was banging her! I busted his fuckin’ head wide open on my windshield . . . anyway, that’s not important to the story.

So Don Quixote takes a road trip to go looking for some chick he fell in love with as a result of reading all these fag stories. But here’s the best part . . .listen to this shit. The love affair is a pigment of his imagination, the fucking hard up sonuvabitch! Yeah, it’s some chick who lives in the neighborhood who he never had the balls to go up to and ask out so instead he makes up all this crazy shit and pretends he’s gonna find her and she’s gonna be like “oh my God! You found me, let’s get married!” But there’s a better chance his horse is gonna spread his legs for him than this girl, you know what I’m saying? So, of course he ain’t gonna find her, and of course everybody makes fun of him for being such a whacked out asshole, but they call him knightjust in case he’s packing heat or something, because even back then nobody wanted to end up in a Fox News Alert.

Anyway, this fucking Alonso guy decides that his life ain’t fucked up enough, now he’s gonna bring his illegal immigrant friend along for the fucking ride too and fuck up his world. And this little guy, Sancho Panza, he’s an alright guy, ya know? He’s just minding his own business, probably stealing horse carts back then since they didn’t have no cars yet . . but he’s happy, right? And he doesn’t have all the time in the world to go looking for bitches that don’t exist and starting imaginary battles.

Anyway, talking about battles, Don Quixote tells Sancho they’re going to attack some windmills. Sancho has absolutely no fucking idea what he’s talking about, but evidently this nut job thinks the windmills are giant fucking guys with razor blades or some shit like that.

I thought this was an interesting part of the story. You know when authors put in symbols and shit instead of just fuckin’ telling you what the fuck it is that they’re trying to say? I think the windmills were a symbol for Don Quixote’s insecurity with what’s going on in his pants, you know what I mean? It ain’t ever happened to me, but I hear it happens to a lot of guys. And if it ever did happen to me and I was living back in the dark ages, I’d probably go ape shit on windmills too.

Don Quixote sends Sancho off in search of Dulcinea, so Sancho brings a few chicks to Don Quixote and he’s like “Here boss, some multiple choice,” you fucking whackadoo. And Don Quixote gets all pissed off because Dulcinea, the chick who doesn’t actually exist outside of his deranged fuckin’ head, isn’t one of them. So Sancho tells him he can’t see Dulcinea because he’s blind, thanks to all those times he was jerking off to his bullshit fag novels, the stupid motherfucker.

Sancho eventually gets to be governor of some made up island which doesn’t work out since he’s working with the imaginary money Don Quixote was paying him to be his friend. Meanwhile, the crazy fuck goes back home and starts eating right and exercising and realizing just what a crazy fuck he was. He doesn’t get laid. He dies. End of fucking story.