Friday, March 17, 2017

The Craven

The Craven  
The Craven  
(With apologies to E.A. Poe)

Once upon a midnight dreary, while Trump pondered leaks
and leery
over media complaints so furious at his volumes o'misbegotten tweets galore  —

While he plotted, clearly snacking, suddenly there
came a tapping,
As of Obama rap'n tapping crazy
From inside his microwavy.
“ ’Tis some thugger,” thus he muttered, “tapping at my
Oven door—
Only this and and a whole lot more.”

Back to his chamber & cell phone turning, all his coal within him burning,
Soon again he heard a tapping something louder than before.
“Surely,” said he, “surely that is something at my Oval Office door;
Let me see, then, what the threat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my tweets accusatory and this mystery
not ignore
’Tis fake news and nothing more!”
Open here he flung his twitters, when, with Many a fart and flitter,
In there be his TaxReturns
Of the corrupt days of yore;
Perched above his microwave's door.
Quoth the TaxReturns “Nevermore.”

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Guys & Dolls

Guys & Dolls

Maybe it's just a coincidental diversion from the 24/7 Trump all news all day Trump-this-and-Trump-tweeted-that but dolls are suddenly in the news, fake or not. Dolls, as in American Girl Dolls. Or an American Girl "Boy" doll. As described by Mattel, this 18" (tall) boy doll, with an algorithmically correct name of Logan Everett, is dressed in hipster t-shirt and dark washed jeans and plays drums in his friend Tenny Grant's band. The guess is that Tenny (Tennyson?) is still taking guitar lessons in the Mattel incubation 3-D printing  laboratory. 

Since we live in an age when everything has political ramifications even dolls are now politicized and this new American Girl boy doll is shearing our fraying cultural fabric into even smaller shreds and threads.  Political and cultural conservatives are as outraged as are some liberal feminist factions condemning this incursion of plastic male chromosomes into the girly no-boys-allowed worlds of doll collection and play. Other self-proclaimed enlightened parents see Little Logan as a teachable lesson in diversity while others reportedly hold that little boys like to play with dolls too. 

And this brings us to another issue. Is our new American Girl Boy Logan a stealth "gateway doll" priming the pump not just for diversity but for homosexuality, transgenderization and even pedophilia?  (Will Mattel see large orders of Lil' Logan from The Vatican? Just kidding, Francis!) What are we to do? One answer could be to embrace the newly announced Jazz Jennings Transgender Doll announced recently by a New York doll company, according to the New York Times. 

Based on the real 16 year-old Jazz Jennings, who at age 6 appeared on national television to discuss his transcendent journey from boy to girl, does the new Jazz Transgender doll solve this doll conundrum or add to the confusion and division? Some big questions arise. Foreskinmost - is Jazz T anatomically authentic? Or chromosomally correct? Is it only a matter of time before America's boy doll Longan's friend Tenny becomes "Tranny?" 

As Baby Boomers transition from boomers to doomers maybe it's time for kids to play with old people dolls like the kind one finds on Pinterest. This will prepare them for their career fate of elder parent care. How about American Old Person Doll Elmer Hopkins, age 92, and his nursing home next door resident Florence Flowers, age 90. Elmer and Florence wear cotton jogging pants, pajamas and sweat shirts that say Have a Great Grampy/Grammy Day. The Elmer and Florence dolls comes with their own walkers with removable little tennis balls on the feet. But perhaps the best dolls for these troubled times might be Russian Matryoshka or babushka nesting dolls, one
inside the other, each one unveiling more and more of the rotten truth of Trump's complicity with the Rooskies to steal the Presidential election. And I wanted to keep this subject just about dolls. Thanks, Trump. 


Thursday, March 2, 2017

So Presidential!

PresidenTsar Trumputin continues to break records, exceed the best and out-tremendous-ize winning while out-superlativizing and most-hyperbolisizing just about everything and everyone in the galaxy. No one is more "less racist, less anti-Semitic" says Him Who Is He or He Who Is Him.  "No one respects women more than me," he has said on too many occasions. And now our New PresidenTsar has even exceeded his own Wonderfulness by reading a speech (the Best speech ever!) line by wonderful line one after another and another! Whew! We're blown away by all his majestic ability to read. But last night's Speech of Speeches set a new record for the Greatest Exploitation of a Grieving Military Widow. As The PresidenTsar himself might say, "No one exploits grieving war widows better than me." Trump over-milked the audience's sympathies for Carryn Owens, whose Navy Seal hero husband Chief Petty Officer William “Ryan” Owens, was killed last month in a fcuked-up mission in Yemen. His exploitation of Chief Ryan and his widow served to justify his own reckless approval of the ill-fated, poorly planned mission. Trump's "enemy of the American people" media praised his phony compassion. Even the liberal CNN pundit Van Jones joined fellow duped-commentators by calling Trump's fraudulent focus on Mrs Ryan "one of the most extraordinary moments you have seen in American politics, period.” Jones further slobbered over himself declaring that Trump "...became president of the United States in that moment, period. That thing you just saw him do, if he finds a way to do that over and over again, he’s going to be there for eight years.” Well, that's that! I guess we can expect many more ill-planned military excursions which will serve up lots of victims and widows and family to be showcased for the next PresidenTsar speech. Chief Ryan, little did you know that by sacrificing your life, you created a "president." America grieves your death for so many reasons.

Friday, January 20, 2017

Thanks, Obama

Barrack Hussain Obama, 44th President

The most dignified, noble and decent man to ever lead America and the world, Barrack Hussain Obama, leaves the White House today and cedes the keys to the most vain, coarse, insecure, mentally deranged, contemptible and corrupt person to ever rule from our nation's solemn Oval Office. 

Was Barrack Obama the most prepared man to assume the Presidency? Did he seek the office from purely altruistic motivations? Would he had even thought about pursuing the Presidency had he not been encouraged by insider professional political operatives who saw the opportunity to fulfill their political fortunes through a highly educated charismatic young African American with gifted oratory skills and a raw talent for connecting with people? No is probably answer. 

Barrack Obama spoke in dulcet refrains about hope and change. Not original ideas. Bill Clinton was the Man From Hope. All politicians stand for change. But Obama, a true first generation "African-American" -- black African father from Kenya and white mother from Kansas, embodied the conceit of America's melting pot, representing hope for a post-racial era. His voice echoed yearning, a plea to summon our better selves. We can do this, yes we can he said. And a popular majority of American voters and Presidential electors did. Twice. Then, days after his first Inauguration Republican knives were sharpened in the shadows of the majority Senate which declared its priority for the next four years would not be governing a legislative agenda but instead dedicating themselves to ensuring that the President not have another four years in office. Obama, like the rookie he was, wasted his first year in office naively attempting to compromise and "reach across" the partisan aisle. That was his style that successfully propelled him through his bi-racial life. When "go along to get along" hit the Republican brick wall he was still convinced that he could charm, call upon their "better angels" or at least mollify their dominant devils. Wrong. 

What I like about him is this: his intentions, ideas and hopes for change are positive. His proposals and ideas, unlike Google's now abandoned motto, "do no evil," sought to achieve common good. On the environment and climate change, the most important issues of our era, he lead the world in seeking solutions.  No new wars. No 911-like terror attacks on U. S. soil. Brought BinLaden to justice. He pulled us out of the Great Recession. Unemployment is at historic low levels. Obamacare is flawed, but well-aimed, well intentioned and 20 million uninsured now have health insurance. Obama sees America as already great with unlimited potential whereas a demagogue such as Trump sees himself as a demigod ruling by threats and fear of the future with hope furtively hiding in the past. 

It says a lot about recent presidencies that when Obama serves eight years with little or no administrative corruption and absolutely no personal scandals it becomes a hallmark. His Presidency embodied decency and decorum and adherence to the American family values that Republicans proclaim and preach but often ignore and defy through anti-family, anti-women, pro business policies. 

Thank you Barrack Hussain Obama for eight proud years of hard work, courageous leadership and devotion to America. Thanks Obama! 

Monday, January 2, 2017

Make The Inauguration Great Again

The president-erect's transition team entertainment committee is working overtime (without pay, of course) to make the Jan 20th presidential Inauguration Great Again. After all, President Barrack Obama's two Inaugurations included only just about every A-list artist, performer and entertainer from around the world. So many offered to perform that to accommodate everyone his Presidential Inauguration would have taken weeks and made Woodstock look like a middle school Xmas pageant.  But Mr. T has given his minions orders to book the Best, Most Amazing, Top Shelf, A++ Stars to showcase his coronation. How's that working out? 

Here are just a few Trump inaugural celebrity entertainers who have been booked so far. Some have committed; others are aspirational.  

The number-one "get" is a 16 year-old girl named Jackie Ivancho. Yep, That Jackie? So far this is the only firmly committed act, besides The Madison Square Garden Rockettes dancers, except those who opted out, and the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Others invited but not yet committed include: 

Lady Gaga? No, but Lady Gaggag... ex porn star turned gospel singer will perform her hit single " Jesus I'm Hot for Your Body & Blood 

Wayne Newton, of course.. singing his big 1963 hit Danke Schoen. Newton will represent Native Americans as he claims he is of Cherokee heritage. 

Katy Perry? No, But at least the Perry part.. Branson, MIssouri's very own  Perry Como, 1950-60 crooning sensation and traditional  Xmas songster. 

Pussy Riot  - Russian All-girl punk performance band. Perfect for the Pussy Grabber-In-Chief.  

Frank Sinatra? He's certainly dead enough and would be the perfect  reflection of the president-erect's treatment and views of women and of course Frank's "little man" bullying personality would match Trump's to a capital T.  So solicitations to his daughter Nancy have been extended should she be interested in walking her white go-go boots all over Mr. T's star-studded stage.

70's hair band Badfinger. What Don really likes is their hair. But also because the band is SHORT two Finger members who suicided themselves SHORTLY after becoming popular in those early 1970 days.  

Pharrell WillIams? Well, Pharrell actually said that he would not be "HAPPY" to perform for the Celebration of Darkness. But his great uncle Andy Williams, of Xmas song fame and 
major star in Branson, MO, has indicated thru his legal guardian great grandchildren, that he might, emphasis on might, be available to perform at the trumpian gala. 

Kayne West? Trumpie's best bet for a so-called true A-list entertainer. He's pals with the Big Grabba. Says he woulda voted fo'em if he'd voted. Made a special pilgrimage to the  Tower to rap wit'em. Egos like smokin' eggos from a hot-wired toaster. Mutual Sadmiration Society. This could happen. For the life of me I can't see Kanye and Twrumpie performing "Life of Pablo" but we can only hope.  

Aging faux-rocker turned country western wannabe, Ted Nugent will probably do something in addition to reprising some of his best racist rants and tirades. He might even demo some of his recipes from his popular book, "Kill it and Grill It."   

Direct from Petersburg, Kentucky comes amazing acts from the Eighth Wonder of the World, The (Cretin) Creation Museum. The main creationist performance will be a teenage Jesus Christ riding bareback on a baby dinosaur. (This act of course proves that Earth is only several thousand years old and that Jesus loves bareback riders) 

And floating down Pennsylvania Ave., on loan from the Cretin Creation Museum, will be Noah's Ark, filled with animals two-by-two poopin' an whoopin' an ruttin' and buttin' and growlin' & howlin'. Good times. 

The two entertainment capitals of the World, Vegas and Branson, Missouri are expected to contribute world-class acts of song, dance and general white working class merriment. Here are a few of the highlighters we hope will entertain the billions and billions of Trump fans who will be gathered to watch this amazing, yuuge historic winning moment. 

The Amazin' Pet Circus will be invited to delight the galaxy during this "Make The  Inauguration Great Again" Extravaganzalapalooza. 

No one loves hillbilly music and backyard hog comedy more than the new president Trump, who as a New York City self-proclaimed billionaire, is famous for his musical talents playing the saw, hair comb and wash-board while clicking his heels and stompin' in his Gucci clodhoppers. No one can heehaw better than Donald.  He is the best heehawler. Believe him! 

The “Branson's Famous Baldknobbers” will keep the global intergalactic audience in stitches with their music and comedy antics, most hilariously their famous act called the "Kingdom of Droopy Drawers"...just the type of comedy loved by the Trump family.  

And, topping it all off, that crazy Branson Japanese fiddle player who delights astounded audiences by playing real fast. And by golly he's Japanese, too! 

Yessir, it's gonna be a real down-home old white man ho-down (except for that Japanese fiddler). Guaranteed to be the Greatest Presidential Inauguration celebration ever seen by man. Eat your heart out Obama. Believe me.  

Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Hillary: Tough As Nails

Who do want as President, a tough proven hard ass who will stare down Vlad the Imputin or a bloated thin-skinned sissy-manboy who sucks up to and admires bullies like Putin. Hillary, or Hellary if you choose, is a short low center-of-gravity no-nonsense woman who won't be knocked over. 

Ok, she can be a stingy with the truth... when it's personal....but damn she'll drown you without compassion in a bathtub of hard truths, hard facts and hard-headed realistic policy proposals. 

With a built-in bullshit detector honed to a laser point by a lifetime of living with Bill, Hillary will chew you up, spit you out and grind your sorry deplorable prevaricating ass into a cosmic wedgie. Whatever that is. And yes, she has strategically decided to stay "married" to The Bill. You can bet that one of her first actions as President on the proverbial DAY ONE will involve a special Presidential Proclamation with a huge scrollygirly-font banner-head that reads: D.I.V.O.R.C.E.  She knows she owes that special "Day One" action to all her sisters who voted for her. And to her granddaughter and Chelsea. 

Deceitful Donald cares not a tinker's dam for The Truth.  He creates his own truths, or as Hillary said in the first debate he "lives in his own reality." Which although a clever line, was wasted on his supporters who thought it was a compliment. (Of course most of his supporters do not watch things like debates, preferring a good re-run of Duck Dynasty or Neck'ed an Abraded."

Hillary has been criticized all her public life (as are many women) for her looks, dress, hairstyle. The headband. The bangs. The pantsuits. The frown. The smile. The laugh. Her legs. Does she react like an insecure self-obsessed teenager? No. she moves on, self assured and confident that decent people will accept her and judge her on what she does and has accomplished for the public good. 

Compare & contrast that to Donald, master of the Art of The Fear, a seventy-year old man obsessed with his fluffy bleached combed-forward-back & over hair extensions, overweight and pendulous yet fat-shaming women who don't meet his standards of beauty ... "no fat pigs, dogs, slobs or disgusting animals." And of course not pregnant. (Trigger Warning: Imagine climbing in bed with a naked Trump.) Trump has the Temperament and self-assurance of an eighth grade mean girl.

Enough of Trump. We're here with Hillary. Don't trust her? I bet Putin, Kim Jong-un and that crazy Filipino President Rodrigo Duterte don't trust her either. After the mild, gentlemanly erudite Obama, America seems to be pining for a "strongman" President who can scare the crap out of dictators, despots and terrorists with a no-nonsense dose of hardcore reality...this is the way it is fellows. Now boys, let's sit down and work it out. Or else. Hillary: strongwoman. Mild-mannered she is not. How could she be after fighting, scratching, clawing and outmaneuvering her way to the top, busting thru glass ceilings like a Die Hard Bruce Willis crashing thru a skyscraper window. Her father didn't stake her millions of bucks to start a business. She used her brains, not daddy's money, to begin her long slog to the top. 
All candidates hyperbolically declare that they are "fighters" and that they will fight for you. Hillary is fond of saying that too, with this difference: she's been in one cage fight after another, winning some, losing some. But she never declines a challenge to climb back in the next cage to administer a beatdown on her opponent. The woman can fight and will fight good fights as President. 

Oh, and unlike Donald, Hillary doesn't mind being called "Hillary." She doesn't demand Senator or Madam Secretary. Donald requires everyone, even his son-in-law, to nonsobriquet him as Mr. Trump. Hillary won't be called Hillary next January 20. From then on we'll just call her Madam President. 

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Thursday, August 18, 2016

Cures For What Ails Mr. Trump

Although I'm not a physician, I sometimes attempt to play one on the internet. Like many hypochondriacs, I often diagnose whatever daily symptoms I unearth in my decrepit bodily state by consulting the myriad health web sites such as Web MD, Mayo Clinic, Shamanize DotCom and Farmers Almanac. As I wrote in a recent blog post, I think we should be worried for Donald Trump's health. His florid face, slow pendulous gait, saggybaggy frame and fast food habits should concern us all. So after consulting many medical web sites, Big Pharma daytime TV commercials, The Merck Veterinary Manual,  Gray’s Anatomy of the Human Body and Daytime TV re-runs, and A Field Guide to Hunters' Self-inflicted Shotgun Wounds, I have compiled a prescriptive list of medications and remedies that I recommend Mr. Trump ask his doctor if they are right for him. 

Number One on my list is ibuprofen. This anti-inflammatory med will relieve Mr. Trump of the one of his most debilitating ailments: the heartbreak of embarrassing Inflammatory Statement Idiot Syndrome (ISIS)  With a strong dose of this common med Trump will still think that Mexicans are rapists and women are disgusting fat pigs but not articulate these thoughts verbally. Take 3 x a day with a cup of chamomile tea. 

It's apparent that Trump is suffering from IBS, irritable bowel syndrome.  His extreme gesturing with his short fingers, always pointing awkwardly up, as if seeking to plug a looseness within, is a sure sign that his bowels are irritated. Prescription: lots of options, but the Doctor thinks he should...uh...just suck it up. 

Since we're in this area anyway, Trump's little puckered mouth, lips pursed in a knot, is a clear indication of some serious hemorrhoidal issues. Obvious relief: Preparation AH. Apply whenever mouth puckers. 

Donald is famous for his sensitivity to criticism. At his ripe age of 70 he is becoming even more thin-skinned than ever. The Doctor prescribes gentle exfoliation of his outer epidermal germinal terminal with a soft application of baby oil on the Trumpus rumpus. 

As the campaign rolls on and Hillary gains in the polls, Mr Grumpy Trumpy exhibits strong symptoms of the Dreaded Low Jive T. aka DJT. He seems to be unable to focus on the locus, is short-tempered, resents (or is jealous of) women, and people, this is just what I'm hearing, I'm hearing it from everyone, folks....he has been having spontaneous eruptions of little girl tears. Obvious diagnosis: LOW T. Shoot him up with some Second Amendment Testostoronium says the Doctor! 

Mr. Trump's orange hair and skin color is an obvious sign of carotenemia, usually caused by eating too many carrots and colorful vegetables. But Trumps fondness for McDonald's and KFC fast foods rule out this diagnosis. So I recently consulted a Catholic Guilt Counselor, Father Peter Rast, who posits that Mr. Trump's attraction to all-white friends and audiences has submerged deep within his meager consciousness a multicultural guilt complex that manifests itself through discoloration of his skin from pale white to a smarmy orange. Father Rast recommends exorcism and the administration of Extreme UnctIon or Last Rites, plus a liberal application of Clearasil to clear up that mean girl junior high complexion. 

And lastly, the elephant, or muskrat, in the room: Trump's flamboyant bouffant combed-over-and-back-left-and-right hair. Although not technically a disease or syndrome, his peacock exhibition of his hair invites analysis. Once again, some people are saying, in fact a lot of people are saying...folks...this is just what I'm hearing...believe me...that Donald J. Trump is as bald as a buzzard's beak buried in the bowels of a bloated four day old opossum roadkill. Renowned hair specialist Doctor Estensión Weavier has seen this extreme hair style only once in her illustrious career. As she recalls, "I was on a trip in the Amazon in search of an ancient mysterious hair growing plant used by the Trumpanamba tribe called "hertadagonatumora," from the extinct species rogainafolliculus. After consulting many indigenous people I came to learn that this magical plant had been devoured to the point of extinction by local Red Rumped Macaque Primates whose clan grew long orange hair swooped in a style that covered their red naked rumps...a style now favored by the Republican nominee for the US President." As to his apparent need for this bizarre manifestation...there is no cure, she added. 
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Tuesday, August 16, 2016


How Do You Like Me Now?
Will the Wizzened Dark Evil One Endorse the Bloated-Faced Evil Orange One?
Ok Dick Cheney, nation building-invading Dr. Strangelove, you still sticking with Trump? The Mad Playboy says no more invading! At least he still loves water boarding, so dear to your stolen desiccated artificial heart.

Mr. Dick-tater Head
Mad Tyrant Trump's campaign manager Paul Manafort lobbied for world-champion dictator-despots like Ferdinand Marcos, Angolan guerrilla mass-murderer Jonas Savimbi, Mobutu Sese Seko, dictator of Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo), dictator torturer-extraordinaire Sani Abacha of Nigeria and Ukraine's former mobster president Viktor Yanukovych ? Who could be his next client?  North Korea's baby faced despot dictator Kim Jong Un?

Ask Your Doctor if Trump Is Right For You. 
Let's ask an important question. Does Donald Trump really look healthy? By all outward appearances Mr. Trump's florid face, slow pendulous gait, saggybaggy frame certainly leads one to assume he might not be in the most robust health. Although I'm not a doctor (I just play one on the internet) the aforementioned, plus his well-documented preference for high fat/sodium/sugar fast foods indicates a person with a high risk for cardiovascular disease and or diabetes. All candidates seeking the highest office in the world should not only release their medical records but should undergo a complete physical exam performed by an independent team of physicians with the results made public. This is the era of sharing, after all.

Extreme Wetting
Donald Trump's announcement that he will employ "extreme vetting" for new wannabe immigrants begs for more clarification. Will new immigrant applicants be subjected to waterboarding to force their confessions of love for Sharia Law? Or just simple lie detector tests? Are you now, or have you ever been a member of an Islamic Terrorist organization? Maybe special extreme Rorschach tests: does this picture remind you of a burka or a suicide vest? Or maybe by "extreme" Trump means "extremities." Think cattle prods and fingernails. Dark Cheney, you might be coming out of retirement.

Olympic Dudes.. I Feel Your Pain. 
I've had it! Enough is enough. Enuf already, Ok? Stop! Quit it now! I can't take it any more. I'm fed up and just about had it up to here. Not there: HERE! I'm so tired of having my body objectified. I feel for those poor Olympic guys in Rio, the swimmers, the gymnasts, weight lifters. I feel their pain. Being ogled and whistled at one can almost feel the fantasization as described in recent Cosmopolitan Magazine headline: Olympic Gold Bulges. Cosmopolitan Magazine headline: Olympic Gold Bulges.

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

Michelle Actually Stole Melania's Speech

Did Melania crib Michelle's speech? Easy explanation. First: the answer is NO! Michelle actually plagiarized Melania's speech. Wait, you say. Michelle gave her speech eight years before Melania wrote and spoke hers. What are you talking about? Well, if you live in the Fox News right-wing bubble, this is entirely possible and indeed a well-established fact. Reality bends into itself twisting truth inside out. Just like Obama's mother deliberately married a Kenyan and gave birth to baby Barrack in Kenya, she knew all too well that someday her son would run for President and so destroyed his birth certificate and surreptitiously moved to Hawaii to establish his US citizenship.  Michelle Obama, in 2008, knew all too well that In 2016 Donald Trump's third wife Melania would write an beautiful original speech to present at the Republican Convention to nominate her husband Donald Trump. We know how these sneaky liberals work...a dirty play plagiarized from the Clinton dirty tricks playbook. Obama/Clinton operatives reached illegally eight years into the future thru a Black Lives Matter Hole, and using a secret email server, tore a seam in the universe, grabbed a copy of Melania's speech, which she had worked so hard on, and plagiarized it word for beautiful word. End of controversy. 
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Saturday, July 9, 2016

Burnt Feet, Pit Bulls and Tickling.

And on a lighter note....
More cops killing black people, black people killing cops, Hillary's careless emailing, Trump's daily racist, misogynist, xenophobic, bigoted Tweets, Brexit fallout, the mass-shooting-of-the-month...alligator snatches toddler at Disney World...the worst of times...and the worst of times. What a summer so far. And the Trump Republican coronation convention still awaits. After the Dallas cop  sniper-murders The NY POST ran a William Randolph Hearst yellow-journalism banner head declaring "CIVIL WAR."  (In 1897 Hearst dispatched illustrator Fredric Remington to cover for his newspaper the Cuban uprising against Spanish rule and supposedly told him "you furnish the pictures and I'll furnish the war.") 

Maybe America needs a breather. Instead of a war. 

Just a few weeks ago we were engaged in news accounts of the gorilla who was shot after tossing around a small boy who had fallen into its zoo pen. Boy 1. Gorilla 0. 

Later we were charmed by the heart-warming story of the cultish followers of self-help guru Tony Robbins who burnt their feet walking on his command across burning coals. Good times. 

And of course we all giggled uncontrollably at news articles about the latest athletic endeavor of Competitive Endurance Tickling. A new documentary, "Tickled" exposes this brutal underground, "fight club"-like dangerous sport. Belly laughs all around. 

Also in the news, a story, based on a new book, "Pit Bull... the Battle over an American Icon," pits this viscous breed against its reputation as a face-ripping 4-legged monster dog. Not so fast, argues this book's author. Pit Bully is really a cuddly, lovable lil' ball of puppy fur. Hmmmm.  Good dog. Down boy.....down.....

But now it's "BLACK/BLUE/All LIVES MATTER" 24-7. Predictions of race riots, vigilantes, mobs, civil war. I'd  walk across hot coals laughing until I cried  uncontrollably, a gorilla and a pit bull on leash, if all we had to worry and argue about were dogs, burnt feet and tickling.

Sunday, July 3, 2016

Damn turd pol or the Damp old runt.

Remember Pat Paulsen? The comedian who ran for President from 1968 thru 1996. How about Pee Wee Herman, aka actor Paul Reubens whose Pee Wee's Playhouse was shut down after he was arrested for an alleged minor public transgression purportedly involving his genitals and a dark movie house. He's currently on the comeback trail. Of course we remember washed up actors Ronald Reagan and Arnold Schwarzenegger who both went on to become governors, one of them all the way to the Presidency thanks to the OPEC oil embargo, the Iranian hostage crises and a killer rabbit. Throw in Cliven Bundy, the crazy anti-government welfare rancher or Kanye West the narcissistic hiphop rappa-ego-maniacal self-proclaimed genius and world-savior. What's the point of mentioning these doofus goofs? Donald Trump. I wouldn't be more shocked, surprised and perplexed if any of these...Pat (gods rest his squirrelly soul) Pee Wee, Cliven, Arnold or Kanye were on track to actually, truly, really, holy-shit-gawds-save-us, become the Republican nominee for President than I am that a racist, misogonist, (fill-in the operative pejorative) New York City billionaire real estate con man might actually become President of the U. S. of A. (When Reagan was elected President I had to drag myself to a window the morning (in America) after the election to see if the sun would actually my dismay and shock, it did). 

Current analysis has it that Trump's emergence is the simple result of the buzzards coming home to feast on the carrion of the 1960s-born Republican "Southern Strategy" roadkill. That SS emerged from the traditional Democrat south and American white suburban resentment of the Civil Rights and voting rights acts, demise of Jim Crow politics all encouraged by "dog whistle " coded language used so effectively by Reagan, et al...states rights, welfare queens, busing and later the cultural issue weapons of GGGG -- God, Guns, Grizzlies & Gays.  The once Democrat racist south transgendered and traded places with the anti-segregationist republican "party of Lincoln." 

Although accurate, this analysis is incomplete. With the election of Obama in 2008 we were supposedly on the brink of a post-racial era, one in which America finally came to grips with its racist past and began to accept and embrace its destiny as a multi-cultural multiracial nation with equal rights and opportunities for all. We certainly pulled back from that brink, didn't we. Way back. But now Trump's emergence as the de-facto leader of the Republican Party begs further analysis, as Trump himself might say, "until we can figure out what's going on here." So what is going on here? His identification and exploitation of the Angry Man keys his success. Who are these Angry folks? Sure, some are the defeated diehard leftovers of the Sixties cultural wars. But on reflection Trump, and Bernie Sanders to a similar degree, seem to have tapped into a fracked-up vein of noxious volatile gas festering just below the surface bubbling up to an unaccommodating landscape of gigs instead of real jobs, unindustrialized service economies, jobs outsourced to foreign labor markets, outdated skill sets, down-sized efficiency-ized  work forces
Uberized, Amazoned and App'ed. 

Of course Trump doesn't really understand these forces, he just blunders and thunders into the space created by them. Like the old P-Funk lyric "huffin' and puffin' you ain't doin' nuthin'," Trump is good at thrusting and hustling but short-fingered on delivering any satisfactory solutions. Instead of answers Trump responds with brags. "Believe me, America will be the greatest because I'm the biggest, the best, the richest, my wife the most beautiful, my steaks the tastiest, my books the best best sellers, my clothes the most stylish, my shoes the shiniest, my hair the orangiest, my teeth the whitiest, my tan the tanniest, my hotels the swankiest, my kids the smartiest, my awesomeness the most awesomiest, my torturing will be the most beautifully painful, my wall the highest, my name-calling the most horribliest, my insults the most egregious...(looking at you, Pope Francis & Mother Theresa...) my Blacks, Hispanics and Muslims love me more than their children...." The more egregious the lies and brags the more people believe, or at least ignore them. 

How could this happen in America? I just don't get it. Really, just what is going on here, anyway? 

I tried to generate a world class, best ever  anagram for the best name in the world, Donald Trump. My favorites: Damn turd pol. Damp old runt.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

My First Hero...

He was my first hero. As a high school kid, I listened on radio, like in the old days, (hell, it was the old days!) to his first fight for the championship in 1964. Why I was in his corner then I don't know. Something about his story I'd heard and read about, his name Cassius Marcellus Clay, his fearless facing of the older and stronger Sonny, "The Bear" Liston.  I was already a boxing fan, somehow intrigued and fascinated by the Floyd Patterson and  Ingemar Johansson fights several years earlier. Boxing wasn't a team sport. I grew up without a team sport affiliation, either high school or professional. I didn't play sports; the only guy in my tiny high school who didn't play on the only two sports offered: basketball and football. I was anti-sports and my refusal (some might say inability) to play gave me that much-needed, although negative, identity sought in high school. But in boxing I saw the little guy, the outsider, the bullied facing the bully. Muhammad Ali filled that role for me. Disdained by the experts and pilloried by the media, Ali drew strength from his opponents, weakening them. His refusal to serve in an unjust war -- the bully military vs the bullied cannon-fodder conscripts --his embrace of a culture that opposed the rules of white America, his non-conformity...unwilling to play the sportsmanship game angered the social, political and sports establishment. Ali, a General in the cultural wars of the Sixties, like Martin Luther King, made America face its sins of racism and its weakness of inequality. Ali practiced and lived a life embedded in Islam, the kinder and wiser version of Islam that contradicts the hate-filled jihadi-swamp that the world now fears. At the height of his boxing career, banned from the sport, he took to the college lecture circuit professing civil disobedience, conscientious objection, condemning the Vietnam War, racism, and social injustice. He spoke at Ohio University while I was a student and I met him after his speech. His handshake swallowed my hand and his eyes reflected starlight. He was literally bigger than life. He created a large part of what the Sixties became. And in retiring from the ring Ali continued to live his life of courage, grace, wit and humor that highlighted his youth and defined his greatness. When he quit boxing he ended the sport. I never watched another match. Boxing was counted out and never rose off  the canvas, they one that Ali used to paint his masterpieces. He once wrote the world's shortest poem.  "Me? Whee!!" first & last hero. (Not for worry're in a singularly reserved category). 

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

America...I'm this Bud for You

 Update: Anheuser-Busch recently confirmed it will change the name of its Budweiser 12-oz. cans and bottles with the name "America" from May 23 through election season in November. 

This Bud/America's for you. So starting today I'm changing my name to "AMERICA" too. You can call me America, or Lawrence America. I'll respond to either name, as long as I hear the American part. My new label will run from now thru the day after the presidential election. If Trump wins, I'm then changing my label to Lawrence Canada, or just plain Canada. 

Sunday, May 1, 2016

Feeding the Angry Man

Feeding the Angry Man

Political correctness has been the whipping-boy issue of the far-right wing for many years. No one touts aversion to PC behavior more than Donald Trump, in large part basing his presidential run on mocking all things politically correct. Expressing politically incorrect statements and views has become the defining standard of what I call the new Angry Man movement. (I use the term "man" because Trumping appeals more to men than women, although there are of course, though fewer, Angry Women too!)

This backlash against political correctness, although not new and has been percolating for years, has now erupted volcanically, given heat from the steaming bowels of Trump who belches more vitriol than an OxyContin-infused radio talk show host (talkin' bout you, Flush Phlegmball!)

But it's not all Donald's fault. Recently political correctness has been it own worst enemy. He's only taking advantage of some high profile examples of PC goofiness and unleashing festering grievances left over from the self-perceived left-behind.

Trump is the wind (bag) beneath the wings of the angry. Seething silent anger just below the surface of civility, these Angry Men have had to keep their feelings in check for decades, every day a lost day that brought them closer to inexorable defeat in the lingering culture war of the Sixties. Yes, the Sixties Culture War rages on in the shallow cranial recesses of the religious right, Nixon's old law & order hard hats, the "silent majority" and their "poorly-educated" progeny still offended by anti-Vietnam protests, "free love," a casual embrace of drugs, and civil rights victories. ("I love the poorly educated," Trump declared after his Nevada primary victory last February.)

Now comes Trump, loud and brash, like a constipated cow suddenly effluent from gorging in a field of rotting beans. Trump's emissions, sulfurically foul, are whiffs of lilac and roses to the noses of his Angries. Finally, someone who is not afraid to say out loud what they've been longing to say forever. Not just someone, but a someone who could hold the highest office in the land. A someone who could make the White House the white house again. (Well, maybe the gold-plated White House?) And his calling card? Attack political correctness. A task which liberals today sometimes aid and abet. From trigger warnings and safe space demands of sensitive babyfied college students to accusations of "cultural appropriation" by minorities, political correctness is fast becoming a favorite pick up line for the right wing. College students who demand a trigger warning that a reading assignment or lecture might contain something offensive to their sheltered little minds forget the reason they are in college in the first expand their minds, be exposed to different ideas: to become educated. Is it really cultural appropriation when a white student is shamed by Black students for wearing dreadlocks? What about a Black student who bleaches her hair blond? (Note: I'm willing to be schooled on this issue from another point of view) Of course political correctness is not really "running amok" as so many pundits and columnists seem be declaring and warning. But egregious examples, amplified by media, social and traditional, feed into the meme/trope that we've gone too far, that we are too sensitive, need to lighten-up, quit worrying about offending everyone (except we whites in power) and just enjoy life. Yeah, make America great again, like before civil and voting rights, environmental regulations, Medicare, Social Security, child labor laws, food safety laws. Those were the days my friends...we thought they'd never end...

More like this and not like this at:

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

I Want Self-Zippering Pants!

 I've waited all my miserable life for this. When I was a kid, my Dad said I'd have a flying car in my garage on Mars.  Never happened, Dad. (Thanks a lot, Obama!) 3-D TV? Sort of, but not really happening. Robot hoovers sucking up dust by dancing the roomba around the house? Boring. Self-cleaning ovens? Old school. Self-photo-taking? Yup, The Selfie fulfilled that dream. Self-driving cars? Oh, yeah! Almost there and just in time for aging Boomers who dread being on the pitiful end of "The Talk" when their kids explain that, no, Mom, you didn't misplace your car keys..we've taken them and are prying your almost dead cold hands from around the steering wheel. Autonomous cars will allow Boomers to rule the road until the day they never die.

But when Nike recently announced its new Self-tying shoe I knew the future had finally arrived. It's called “adaptive lacing.”  Press buttons on the side of the shoe and the laces automatically tighten or loosen to match your comfort level or mood: uptight, nervous, or afraid? Just press the tighten button. Feeling groovy, marinatingly mellow or banging? Just press the loose button. No muss no fuss. Only down side is you gotta bend down to press the mofcukin' buttons! Com'on Nike, where's the remote? Or app that'll let me tight&loose by tapping on my Fitbit or Apple Watch. See, the Damn Future is always just around the Damn Corner.

So here I am, in the present here and now, mindful of the moment, which is very popular these days. But still waiting for, as Apple used to say, "The Next Big Thing" ...until Trump settled that argument. So I guess until I get my Self-Zippering pants, I'm just a lonely guy on the Avenue of Ass-kicking Dreams with his fly stuck open...or shut. (Hmmmm...autonomous socks that roll up automatically?)

L.Rudmann (

Monday, February 8, 2016

Super Bowl: Over & Out

I'm so over Super Bowl commercials. And for that matter the Super Bowl itself, that national corporate sports orgy for the One Percent paid for by the tax-paying gullible proletariat who "like to watch" the gladiators while the rulers "play" from their skyboxes. Yes, a distraction from work, from ills, from the daily drone of life, The Super Bowl offers a temporary reprieve and escape. 

After only 50 years The Super Bowl has established itself as a bedrock symbol of our culture. We accept its ubiquitous residency in our lives, finely woven like a 1,000 thread-count flag blowing across the face our national psyche. From the opening mock patriotic military salutes, mawkish contestant renditions of a song celebrating bombs and war ... Vegas odds on how long will Lady GaGa stretch out the last notes to break the record for longest public singing of this national anthem...military jets swooping like mad screaming birds of prey over the stadium; extravagant intermission displays of pop(ular) music...spectacles on par with anything produced by Chinese or North Korean governments. A synchronized national corporate effort to appeal to the masses, slake our thirst for violence with highly paid yet expendable surrogates, to inspire us to aspire, to consume, to eat more Cheetos. The athletic efforts on the field merely a pretense for the 30 sec commercial propaganda spots imploring us to spend our wages to enrich those wise men in their high skybox castles. 

And let's dismiss with the conceit that at least these commercial productions represent high art, or are at a minimum creative, original, humorous or inspiring. Once upon a time Apple produced a commercial ("1984") to introduce the MacIntosh computer. This was the first and last truly creative effort shown during a Super Bowl game. This commercial set the standard, propagated and set in motion the deluded cult of the Super Bowl Commercials. What we are subjected to now are watered-down attempts at humor often exploiting children and animals. This year one advertiser actually hit the sweet spot of commercial crassness with a creature comprised of a baby, a monkey and a dog. A puppy. Awwww..horses, awwww...guys acting the fool while wifey rolls her eyes and shows him how it's really done. People dancing. If the proverbial aliens picked up signals of these commercials they would think that all humans do is dance. Well, we also get constipation, diarrhea and toenail fungus on the bungus.. but that's another matter. 

Ah, Super Bowl, I am so over you. At least until next year when the half time show features our national Poet Laureate in a "Salute to American Poetry." And of course the Chicago Bears beat the Oakland Raiders.  

(read more like this and not like this at my blog:

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Cruz Conundrum

That women get judged on their looks and appearance more than men is a given. It's not right to judge a person by one's visceral reaction to appearance, demeanor and other subjectives such as voice, height, hair style, eyes and the  overall qualities that comprise what we generally consider as "looks." I know it's not right. Yet why do I have such a strong visceral (from "viscera"....intestines, bowels, gut; from instinct rather than intellect) negative reaction to Ted Cruz, the smarmy (totally subjective, sorry) candidate for the republican presidential nomination? His high-pitched voice perfects onomatopoeically the whine of a dentist drill with all its associated shudder and vagus-nerve inducing nausea and clammy coldness. His hunched shoulders and thrusting head produces a badgering mien threatening to cower his audience into submission. Behind a podium, he leans his skewed mis-aligned angley face downward doggedly in sarcastic towering arrogance belying his 5ft-7inch stature and with deft yet programmed hands gestures robotically in sync with sad disapproving basset hound-of-hell eyes casting damnation on all who fail to heed his admonitions. This is Ted Cruz. The slick pompadour hair harkens to a past era, a carnival barker, a Fuller Brush salesman? Under stage lights his skin reflects a pallid smeary corpse-like patina, waxen. 
The curled upper lip snarls and scolds disdainfully giving purchase to a poisonous pedantic piety from a Puritan pursed mouth proclaiming peevish punishment for all who disagree. 
And yet I question my intense reactions to Mr. Cruz's physicalities. It's not that he has, according to current standards of what constitutes beauty/attractiveness, an "ugly" countenance. But there is some intangible aggregate of his overall appearance and how he wears and utilizes these physical attributes that sends up warning signs. Empty this sack full of pain and fill it with the heart and soul of Bernie Sanders. How would I react?  Bernie has a rough and worn appearance that may cause cringing, weeping and gnashing of teeth in those who disagree with him. But it seems that beyond Cruz's stated policies, his proclaimed beliefs, his political philosophy there lies something uncomfortable, dark and on the threshold of....evil? I know it's not right to judge him on how he looks. But could this visage be a mirror of his soul or spirit, his very essence and intended purpose on earth? I don't know. But what I do know is this person scares me. To the point where I have to admit that given a choice between Mr. Cruz and Donald Trump (please gods, spare us from such a choice) I would have to choose Trump. Cruz, I admit, is smart, very smart and probably the best diabolical debater among all candidates. He has a plan, and is executing it demonically. Be afraid. Very afraid, something tells me. 

Wednesday, December 30, 2015

2015 - A Year of Living Fearfully©

2015 - A Year of Living Fearfully©

We got it quick, 
We got it now
Here a click 
There a click
We got it how?
Here a pick there a pick
In the Amazon pits
Bot Boys & Gig Girls
Ubering this and 
Ubering that
Working harder than 
The Pizza Rat.

So buy me a beer
And quench my fear
an IPA with a wise-ass label
"Bangin’Your Sister" or "Murdering Mabel."
If you're socially able
Pour me that hoppy Alcohol tincture
An artesinal brew called "Clinching Sphincters."

My fear is palpable
That my order calculable 
Isn't Pay-Pal-able
Delivered prime by the ISISman cometh
Venomous sous la table
With Hillary in a Muslim Hijibber
Jihaddin' the penis off Justine Bieber.

My fears were real
As John Boehner tears
As true as Caitlyn's 
Not a male
And Canadian poutine 
Is the new kale.

Even my fears 
Were afraid and scared
Laid bare by Obamacare
To heal us with medical P.O.T.U.S.
Put on notice 
By The F.L.O.T.U.S.
That our health insurance wouldn’t be valid
Unless we ate all our Kardashian placenta salad.

Throughout the year anxiety riding
On a jittery third rail guiding
Us on a dangerous journey
Suicide crusading avengers
Vowed to see us 
On a gurney. 
Look to the left, to the right
Feel the panic
An error of terror
Islamic as well 
As Christianic.

Change was loosed
Upon the Land
Transgendered, rendered, re-assigned
Maligned for being 

But all was ducky and we got lucky
The Pope fell for a lady from Kentucky
Blessing her multiple-partner unions
Wagging the Papal Celibate digit Proclaiming illicit
Same-sex communions.

Disappointment was a fave
Jay-Z's TIDAL never waved.
Apple Set A Watch, man
Few raved.
Harper Lee unwound her clock
Her second first novel failed to ticktock
As the mockingbird's old man
Joined the klan
That many saw as problematicus
The most popular Republican baby name 
Now happens to be, yup... Little Atticus.
The Status Quo
Did not Grow
We still hatin'on drunkened Russians
Still lovin' on football concussions 
Predictable as shoot-first cops
Or Taylor Swift in short crop-tops.

Madman Don the Dandy Draper
Taught the World to Sing Carnally (no predictable doggerel rhyme)
In perfect harmony
With Kendrick Lamarr-money
Pimpin' that poor butterfly's wings
Inside Amy Schumer's randy pants
There's ample room 
For Drake to dance.

Backs to the Wall
Fed raisin' rates
Drug Lord Shkreli
Scored world berates
Courteously flushed 
But the room’s still smelly.

Transgendering took the runway spot
Estrogened and testosteroned
Accepted respected and now condoned
By all except the chromosomes.

Guns still have us in their sights 
Open carry in the bars 
And church
Trolled by NRA sycophants,
But in the morgue room 
Stands the elephant,
Minions of Murder 
Foul beasts lurch
And then they slouch
Toward Deathlahem.

ISIS, ISIL, Houthis, Shabbab
Promise to bury us
It’s their job
Is it fear or imaginary
Or are we already buried 
In our mobile screens
Our virtual cemetaries.

The local police dressed 
To be seen 
As combat-ready armed Marines
Drowned out voices 
With on-the-ground boots
The cries of hands-up-don’t-shoot
And cause to shatter
The Dream 
That Black Lives 
Really do matter.

Next Year 
Don't let your ears fill with fears
Of Islamaphobic political Smears
Humpty Trumpty
Will have a great fall
From his “big & beautiful” Xenophobic wall

And surety like taxes and and like death
To misquote MacBeth
"All our yesterdays have (dim) lighted fools
The way to dusty death, Out, out, brief candle (of darkness)
(Your)Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage
and then is heard no more. 
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing."

So buy me a beer
And quench my fear
an IPA with a wise-ass label
"Bangin’ Your Sister" or "Murdering Mabel."
If you're socially able
Pour me that hoppy 
Alcohol tincture
An Artesinal brew 
Called "Clinching Sphincters."

(P.S.. Jon Snow is really dead. Thanks a lot, Obama!)

Happiness not Fear in the 2016 New Year.


Sunday, December 6, 2015

Pass the "No Guns Left Behind in Hands of Civilians Act".

Enough is enough! 
Here's what we need: 
Don't control guns, ban them.

Presidential/Executive "Re-interpretation" of the Second Amendment concomitant with enactment by Congress or Presidential Fiat of the "No Guns Left Behind in Hands of Civilians Act" also to be known as the "No Right to Own Guns Act."

The manufacture, import and sale of firearms and ammunition for non-military in the U. S. and its territories will be banned. 

Phase One: A Federal ban on the civilian purchase of any firearm. This means hand guns, assault rifles, shotguns, hunting rifles, target/sport firearms. Also BB guns and similar varmint-hunting guns such as pellet guns, potato "spud" guns and all NERF-type projectile-emitting gun facsimiles. (BB/pellet and NERF-type guns are "gateway weapons" that lead to future desire/addiction to possess and use bullet-based firearms). Violation of the "No Gun Left Behind Act" is a zero tolerance, "one strike you are out" violation resulting In a minimum income-based fine of $20,000 and up. Inability or refusal  to pay the fine shall result in a minimum one year sentence to a firearm practice ranch for Federal Agents as a live target decoy. (Sentence commuted after one year if prisoner survives)

Phase Two: The President shall order all citizens to turn in to Federal Authorities any and all firearms they own or possess. Firearm owners complying will be compensated for the price that they paid for the firearm(s). Refusal to comply will result in fines and imprisonment. 

Phase Three: The National Guard, branches of the US military forces, Federal policing agents including the FBI, will conduct house-to-house inspections nationally for the purpose of confiscation of firearms. Non-compliance will result in imprisonment of head of household. 

Phase Four: local police will be required to "Stop & Frisk" suspected gun carriers at any time or place. Citizens will also be rewarded with cash bonuses for alerting police or Federal authorities to anyone who they suspect possessing a firearm. 

Hunters and firearm sport enthusiasts will be able to rent approved firearms from the federal government for limited use. Firearm renters shall have proper gun user insurance.  

Traditional firearm-based hunters who choose not to rent firearms will be provided with federal training in bow & arrow, knife and persistence hunting (stalking and chasing game on foot until animal is caught). 

Black market distribution of firearms will be controlled by Revenueurs a special elite strike force of Federal and civilian under- cover swat specialists. Funding for national firearm prohibition will be diverted from state, local and Federal drug enforcement since passage of the "Freedom to Purchase & Use Any Drug Act" Americans will be able to purchase and use any drug legally.

This should be considered only the first steps in freeing our country of the curse of firearms. Once these actions are enacted then America should really get serious about banning guns.