TRUMPO REVOKES MISTERMUSE’S SECURITY BLANKET

It is with heavy heart that I inform readers of a grave injustice almost unprecedented in the annals of grave injusticedom: MISTERMUSE HAS JUST BEEN STRIPPED OF HIS SECURITY BLANKET by the Lord and Master of the Land of Nod, Donaldo El Trumpo. Disregarding long practice whereby his predecessors first convened/consulted with top underlings in the Blanket Discharge Dept., El Trumpo acted without so much as a wink and a nod to protocol, stating the firing was necessitated by Muse’s “erratic behavior.”

Friends, I put it to you: has anyone (with the possible exception of the President of the United States) displayed more erratic behavior in the annals of erratic behaviordom than El Trumpo? Talk about THE POTUS CALLING THE KETTLE BLACK! Granted, Mister Muse may be guilty of occasional excess tossing and turning in bed, but if Mrs. Muse isn’t complaining, on what basis does El Trumpo base his baseless blasphemy? Muse is admittedly no Rip Van Periwinkle, however that doesn’t make his restless, less-than-sound sleep, “erratic behavior” (at least, until being stripped of his security blanket, thereby making him no longer responsible for his behavior).

In an odd coincidence, this comes on the heels of POTUS revoking the security clearance of former CIA Director, John Brennan, which provoked a protest from 12 former CIA chiefs and this stinging rebuke from retired Navy Admiral, Bill McRaven:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/revoke-my-security-clearance-too-mr-president/2018/08/16/8b149b02-a178-11e8-93e3-24d1703d2a7a_story.html?utm_term=.e5d72f2cff1e

Friends, these are critical times for the future of the Land of Nod and the United States. Patriots of the United States have lost no time in defending John Brennan from the machinations of POTUS. Will you now rise to the defense of Mister Muse for the good of the Land of Nod? Demand that El Trumpo restore my security blanket, and you will sleep better for it….and so, rest assured, will I.

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IT ISN’T BECAUSE IT ISN’T (VARIATIONS ON A THEME)

I don’t see it as a safety issue because it isn’t.” –Bill Kaeppner, president of Ohio Motorized Trails Assn., speaking in favor of the State Division of Forestry’s proposal to allow all-purpose vehicle trails to cross hiking trails in Ohio State Parks

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Reading the foregoing quote in a local newspaper article a few weeks ago, the possible applications of its incontrovertible logic struck me like the twaddle in a Trump tweet. Think of the implications for settling all manner of opposing positions. Think of all the cross-purposes which could be brought to a screeching stop, like trail traffic in a forest, by a simple red light at a crossing intersection. Friends, Romans, Fishermen, the solution is as obvious as the nose on your face: IT ISN’T BECAUSE IT ISN’T. End of de bait.

Let us take a look at a few of of Trump’s favorite declarations as examples of settling matters by simple fiat (it is or isn’t, because he says it is or isn’t):

WITCH HUNT — which is to say, do I look like a witch? (well, he’s got us there–no self-respecting witch would look like him)

THERE’S NO COLLUSION — and even if there was, it ain’t illegal. (just ask Putin–your Russian to judgment)

FAKE NEWS — any news not viewed through the fair and balanced lens of Fox News. (not to crow, but the allegory here is a piece of cake):

CHOKED LIKE A DOG —in other words, a loser. (spoken like a man who’s the only President never to have owned a dog since McKinley)

BELIEVE ME — would I lie? (like a sleeping dog, Donald–like a sleeping dog)

I BE NOMINATED FOR THE KIESTER AWARD!

Friends, I am proud, humbled and honored to tell you that I (will) be nominated for the Kiester Award for blogging (over, above and beyond the call of duty, no less). Yes, friends, I foresee that you will see fit, after reading this, not only to get off (or on) your kiester, as the case-ster may be, to nominate me….but also to kick yourself in the kiester for not doing so before. So, though your awakening may be in arrears, it is appreciated.

But I’m conflicted, friends. It’s not that I’m ungrateful for the Kiester that you are aching to bestow upon me; however, there are others much more deserving. I would therefore caution you to control yourselves, because worthy as I may be, it’s only right (wing) that you should nominate someone with far superior qualities, such as:

THE DONALD — aka The Orange (T)error. America’s bully boy and wall nut who is able to leap (t)all Republicans in a single bound and make them kiss his ass in a single tweet. Drains swamps by filling them in with b.s. Loves everyone (who loves him), but retains Godfather complex (for those who don’t).

THE MIKESTER — aka Straightarrow Mike. Joined to The Donald at the hip while being the least hip VP in American hipstery. Even a dog couldn’t be more loyal. Leading contender for the Cardboard Poodle award.

THE MITCH-ELAINE MAN — aka Monotone Mitch. The Blue Grass State’s gift horse to the U.S. Senate. Was once caught smiling, and vowed never to smile again. Doesn’t parrot The Donald as much as The Mikester, but is nonetheless for the birds. Married to Elaine Chao, Secretary of Transportation in the horse’s ass administration.

THE HUCKABEE WASP — aka Sarah the married Spinstirrer. White House Press Secretary and daughter of White Anglo-Saxon Protestant Christian Minister and former Arkansas governor, Mike Huckabee. Read her lips. She may not be a dummy, but The Donald’s got her back (or is it the other way around?).

DUMBO THE UGLY ELEPHANT — aka The GOP. It’s the body the Republican Party has become since The Donald took power, as Ronald Reagan turned over in his grave. Who knew Ronnie’s reign as President would one day turn out to be, not only The Good Old Days of fond memory, but the elephant in the room, the ghost of civility past?

In closing, friends, a few of you may think I misspelled Keister, but in my dictionary, Kiester is also acceptable. Spelling can be like pronunciation:

WHERE’S THE REMOTE?

The only thing in America that promises the people more than the politicians is commercials. –Evan Esar

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Like many men, when a commercial comes on while watching TV, I reach for the remote and change channels faster than you can say Jack Robinsonitzskivich (I used to do it faster than you can say Jack Robinson, but my reflexes ain’t what they used to be). For some reason, this male prerogative gives my wife a foreboding fit faster than you can say “#*@#!” — which, loosely translated, is what she did say the last time we watched TV together. And, as if that’s not enough, more often than not, there are commercials on the channel(s) I change to, and by the time I find a channel without a commercial, it’s time to go back to what we were watching in the first place. So you see, what she puts up with is nothing compared to my gripe.

Frankly, I think showing commercials at the same time on different channels is a vast conspiracy, and there oughta be a law agin it. I don’t have the remotest idea what my wife finds so compelling about commercials anyway–most of them these days are dumber than a Trump tweet. At least, back in TV’s good old days, commercials had some meat to them:

And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to join my forgiving wife to watch our favorite program–you know, the quiz show where the answer is in the form of a question.

“Honey, where’s the remote?”

THINKING OUTSIDE THE BUCKS

Money is the root of all evil.

Some people–especially the biblically grounded–say the above admonition dates back to the apostle Paul’s first letter to the Kardashians….specifically, Timothy (Kardashian). But said name (“Tim” for short) was changed to “Kim” early on because Tim wasn’t Tiny for long (plus, “Tim” was obviously an inappropriate name for someone of her gender). Or maybe “Kimothy” was misspelled “Timothy” on the birth certificate, and the error went unnoticed until the day they had to furnish proof she wasn’t an illegal alien. Whatever.

But if we can’t believe the bible, what then? For the record, my sources have uncovered this more likely origin for MONEY IS THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL, first recorded by The Andrews Sisters and sung on the 1940s Blue (radio) Network (other researchers put their money on the Green Network, but that’s a source of a different color):

I must admit the song isn’t nitpickingly accurate. The correct admonition is The love of money is the root of all evil. This does put a whole different spin on the sin, the point being that you can screw who you will for wealth, and, so long as you don’t love it–so long as you can say, “Up yours!”, your affairs are strictly money business.

And so we come to the point in the proceedings where, having run out of my own pearls of profundity to pad the post, I turn to what others have to say (and sing) on the subject:

Business is the art of extracting money from another man’s pocket without resorting to violence. –Max Amsterdam

It’s money. I remember it from when I was single. –Billy Crystal

A billion here, a billion there, and pretty soon you’re talking about real money. –Everett Dirksen, former U.S. Senator

It may be hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven, but it’s easy for him to get on the church board of trustees. –Evan Esar

Women prefer men who have something tender about them — especially the legal kind. –Kay Ingram

A fool and his money are soon elected. –Will Rogers

Cocaine is God’s way of saying you’re making too much money. –Robin Williams

And with that, the buck stops here.

THIS IS JEP-R-DO!

As a big fan of JEOPARDY! (or JEP-R-DO!, as I like to call it), it caught my attention a few days ago that July 22 will be Alex Trebeck’s birthday (July 22, 1940). His upcoming birthday got me to thinking about doing a post relating to the program and/or its host, but I was doing little more than piddling around with the idea….until I saw this clip:

My immediate reaction was I had no clue that any member of the Trump clan had the intellectual chops to watch a program which invites seeing if your pool of knowledge is deeper than a piddle. After getting past that shock, I realized that if a Trump can be more than a bump on a log where watching JEOPARDY! is concerned, surely I can count on my followers being more players than naysayers where JEP-R-DO! (my version) is concerned.

Therefore, I have spared no expense to consult the world’s greatest know-it-alls (with the lamentable exception of the President) to put together a list of ten answers guaranteed to challenge even the amazing, incredible, great, terrific, tremendous, yuge reservoir of knowledge collectively held by you, my faithful readers. You will then have thirty seconds to come up with the correct questions. Since your time is limited, it is only fair that I use a matching format, listing the questions from 1 to 10 so all you need do is match the numbered questions in the second list with the lettered answers in the first list. Ready? Go!!!

a. The greatest businessman, politician and showman/spin meister/hoax promoter in American history (famous initials P.T.)
b. Playboy of the Western World
c. Master of the Universe
d. Disaster of the Universe
e. Demander in Chief
f. Liar, liar, rants on fire
g. Pathological Narcissist
h. Super Dupe-r
i. Bully Boy
j. Putin Patsy

1. Who is President Trump?
2. Who is President Trump?
3. Who is President Trump?
4. Who is President Trump?
5. Who is President Trump?
6. Who is President Trump?
7. Who is President Trump?
8. Who is President Trump?
9. Who is President Trump?
10. Who is President Trump?

That wasn’t too hard now, was it?

 

UNACCUSTOMED AS I AM TO PUBLIC LEAKING….

Perhaps, by the title, you’re anticipating that this post will be a dissertation on the subject of urinating in unisex restrooms–a practice little practiced in these provincial parts, and which, therefore, I feel little qualified to address. Obviously, such a paucity of experience could only end up in a cock-and-bull story which peters out soon after it starts, leaving my post hanging. That would be a big disappointment to my followers, I’m sure, but luckily, I have in mind other kinds of leaks to stretch this sordid exposition out to a respectable length.

Friends, I mean the kind of leaks which emanate from sources I can use to pad this post, thereby relieving me of the chore of overworking my brain cells. To my mind, that’s….

Yes, friends, I refer not to the kind of leaks that are a plumber’s best friend, but to….

https://www.history.com/news/9-leaks-that-changed-the-world

Of course, the above leaks barely scratch the surface when one considers the sheer volume of leaks released on a daily basis throughout history. Perhaps you yourself would like to reveal something that’s in the public interest, which you’ve kept bottled up for fear of exposure. Friends, if that’s the case with you, you can leak your dirty laundry right here with reasonable assurance that your name will stay right here. After all, who takes the time to read comments, much less notice who writes them….and you know mistermuse would never betray a source. So, leak with confidence, my friends, while I will go about my business, and you too will conclude….