All That Flitters Is Not Gold

I think it’s important to see the good in things. But it’s not a spiritual deal breaker if you can’t bring yourself to do so all the time. Because as with everything in life, there is context.

Take for instance, Trump’s daily press conferences, which feel as if they’re being underwritten by the WWE. COVID-19 has King Minus back at the podium after an extended break, because yanno . . the pandemic didn’t have enough polarity as it was. I call it Kerosene Theater, because to call it absurd would be a disservice to Samuel Beckett. Tuning in will kill your brain cells faster than a batch of OG Kush, unless Anthony Fauci happens to make the scene. I only wish word bubbles were a real thing, because Fauci’s thoughts must read like a George Carlin skit. 

If you’ve been in a coma since 2016, check out one of these pressers, because it will let you know what’s been going on in a nutshell (emphasis on nut). When I think about where we are as a country, the Janis Joplin song Me and Bobby McG gets to stepping through my brain . . .

Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose. 

No shit JJ.

Seriously, if the Declaration of Independence were signed in 2020, it would happen in a shopping mall. Such is the skewed variation of truth we’ve come to accept. Not to mention an indivisible pledge that once promised liberty and justice for all. Truth got sample sized in the Clintonian Era, Liberty became incorporated in the W years and Justice is currently getting bumper stickered into obsolescence by brand-mothers and freedom fighting fathers who are on a mission from God. No, not the God mentioned in The Blues Brothers- who was all about R&B, car chases and lying to your hot girlfriend. Nope, these new age defenders of the constitution believe in wearing their guns and developing a portal that delivers them back to 1955, tout de suite. Their plan is to bottle up all the great shit that was going on back there and bring it here, after which they’ll crop dust the fuck out of us.

So it’s no surprise, given the political climate change we’ve experienced over the last three and a half years, that we have groups like Ammon Bundy’s Liberty Rebellion rising up through the cracks, everywhere. From Idaho to Islip and the Twin Cities to Tampa Bay, these peeps are storming government buildings with the goal to take back their freedom of movement, coronavirus be damned. And so what if the US has three quarters of a million confirmed cases and more than forty two thousand casualties. Give us beaches and Applebee’s or give us death!

They vow to go all Rambo on COVID-19 with a game plan that’s simpler than Paris Hilton’s diary. They insist that we must get back to business as usual . . or the virus wins. Mind you, it ain’t gonna be easy to win this particular war on terror since the virus doesn’t have an accent or run a convenience store. Hell, we might actually have to depend on science to see us through.

The protesters are trying to high-jack common sense by insisting that our freedoms are in great peril as a result of the quarantine, whilst never minding the grim tote board. They’re a blight to the legacy of founding fathers who endeavored for the greater good and understood that democracy is not a win at all costs theorem. It’s actually much more advanced than that kind of box-score logic. Because it asks us to aim our differences in a general direction, so that we may arrive at an eventual consensus.

Instead, these peeps shout down the truth of the matter, which is that the quarantine works. They ignore the fact that when large groups have gathered together since the virus began to spread, bad things followed. And not for nothing, but quoting Jefferson in relation to the current pandemic is akin to slapping a number on the side of a team of oxen and thinking they could win the Daytona 500.

If you come across one of these Fox News patriots, ask them to double down on the six foot social distance rule. And then be sure to let them know the man who penned the Pledge of Allegiance- Francis Bellamy- was in fact, a socialist.

Marty McFly called. He wants his time machine back.

Trump: The Interview

 

Image result for donald trump hooters

I had the choice between watching the final season of The Man in the High Castle or interviewing Donald Trump. And I blew it. But hey, I figured it would be my best chance to get into the White House since it’s painfully apparent they let anybody in these days.

Of course, I should’ve known this was a big mistake when I endured a three hour phone call in which his publicist recited a list of topics that were off limits. I was promised a second interview if I played by the rules, and now I have to decide whether I want to opt in or have a vasectomy. Decisions, decisions!

We will convene in the newly opened Hooters located in the West Wing and I am told not to stray from the restaurant on account of the movie that is being filmed in the Rose Garden. Yep . . it’s a porn.

Trump enters the restaurant and we shake hands. His hands are smaller than Miss Havisham’s dreams in the novel Great Expectations. I decide not to mention this fact since I want to get inside Trump’s head and have a look around. I imagine it has more square footage than my last house. He orders an iced tea and then one of everything off the menu and then tells me he’s got ten minutes . . or however long it takes for his wings to be served.

What are your thoughts on the democratic field? 

Trump- I have no thoughts.

I recognize that. Okay, let me rephrase the question. What is your opinion of the democratic field? 

Trump- They’re all career politicians, socialists, communists, murderers and child rapists.

Those are pretty strong accusations you’re making. Do you care to elaborate on the murderers and child rapists you’re referring to? 

Trump- I never elaborate, it’s a time waster. I say it one time . . and then I say it a hundred more times. And then I retweet it all day.

You do realize that you can’t go around calling people murderers and child rapists in the real world unless you have . . . 

Trump- What’s that? The real world . . what is that?

The real world is the place where you don’t live. 

Trump- What is it like? . . . this place?

Well, up until three years ago it was great. We had no idea how good we had it because we were too busy blaming Obama for everything. 

Trump- I hate that guy.

Who do you like? 

Trump- You’re looking at him.

Let’s go back to your statement about murderers and child rapists. Who are you referring to and what evidence do you have to support these serious allegations? 

Trump- I don’t worry about evidence unless it helps me. When I say they’re murderers and child rapists, I mean they’re just as evil as those people. They don’t have to commit those horrible acts for me to call them those things . . .

Well, actually . . a person WOULD have to commit those atrocious acts . . and then be found guilty in a court of law, before you could refer to them in this way. 

Trump- Says you.

Wow, that’s very mature. 

Trump- Thank you.

Is there any truth to the rumor that Geraldo Rivera will be your Vice President should you win a second term?

Trump- I trust Pence with my life. But if he ever screwed me over, I would bury him as many times as you could bury a person. Then yes . . Geraldo would be a great choice. Not that I need to win over the Hispanics because you know, they love me already.

Let’s talk about the border wall.

Trump- You can ask me anything.

As part of your 2016 Campaign-alooza, you pledged that the wall would be completed in three and a half years at a cost of twenty one million dollars and that Mexico would pay for it. But that hasn’t happened. In fact, the Pentagon is slashing programs and siphoning those monies to use for border wall construction. Also . . your administration recently announced it had built 100 miles of wall but failed to mention that most of that construction simply replaced barriers that already existed. How do you explain this?

Trump- I said you could ask me anything. I didn’t say you could tell me anything.

Can we talk about Russia?

Trump- Nothing to talk about. I’m great friends with Russia, and Putin respects the hell out of me because I have the biggest hands he’s ever seen.

Big hands are important to you, aren’t they?

Trump- Very important.

Can you repeat that for me? Please? 

Trump- I love big hands, and I cannot lie.

So you’re saying size matters to you.

Trump- Yes!

And you like them big? 

Trump- Huge!

Okay, now that I’ve milked that for all it’s worth . . . who is your favorite modern day president, other than yourself. 

Trump- Michael Scott.

Michael Scott . . . was the fictional Scranton branch manager for Dunder Mifflin. He was never president. 

Trump- False! He was president for nine seasons on NBC. I met him a couple times when I was doing the Apprentice!

Okay, he was only the manager for seven seasons . . and he was president for zero seasons. In fact, he never even played the president in a movie or TV show. But I can see how you may have emulated his managing style. 

Trump- That guy understood the job, he knew how hard it was.

That’s what she said. 

Trump- What?

Sorry, that was an Abe Lincoln joke. 

Trump- Great president, but I’m better, and I gotta be honest. I prefer presidents who didn’t get shot.

Too soon. 

As I begin to contemplate ending my life by plunging a spork into my jugular, his Doritos encrusted wings make the scene and save my life.

Trump- Didn’t you order anything?

Yes, a cab ride. 

 

 

 

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.