Monthly Archives: April 2020

Too Close For Comfort

Social distancing ain’t easy. It’s a struggle even for those of us who believe in it. Somehow the Greeks have pulled it off with great aplomb. Of course, they got used to making sacrifices during their economic meltdown. Plus, it gave them a chance to show up the Italians, always a good thing. The Greeks know how to hold a grudge. It’s where I get it from.

I’m a city boy and we’re used to living on top of one another. The 6-foot rule is essential to safety but will feel weird once whatever passes for reopening happens. Better distant than dead.

Repeat after me: don’t get Too Close For Comfort.

Too Close For Comfort was written in 1956 by Jerry Bock, George David Weiss, and Larry Holofcener for the Broadway musical Mr. Wonderful, which is not about Shark Tank’s Kevin O’Leary even though he calls himself that. The song has nothing to do with the Ted Knight sitcom either. It’s much wittier than that.

We have versions of this song for the pandemic for your listening pleasure by three of my favorite singers: Frank Sinatra, Mel Torme, and Ella Fitzgerald. One could even call them the Torrid Trio:

Lagniappe is always nice. The great Jazz saxophonist, Art Pepper, figures in the current season of Bosch. Here’s his instrumental take on today’s tune:

American Lickspittle

lickspittle_pence

Obsequious doesn’t even begin…

When asked about this grotesque breach of protocol, the head of the White House’s coronavirus task force replied, according to The Week:

“As Vice President of the United States, I’m tested for the coronavirus on a regular basis, and everyone who is around me is tested for the coronavirus,” Pence said later Tuesday, citing CDC guidance that says masks help stop people who have the coronavirus from spreading it. “I thought it would be a good opportunity for me to be here, to be able to speak to these researchers, these incredible health care personnel, and look them in the eye and say thank you.

Yes, that is the vice president* of the United States, and the White House point man on the greatest public-health crisis in a century, admitting that he doesn’t know the difference between a mask and a blindfold. It makes a public mockery of everything Pence and his task force allegedly are doing. It makes a mockery of all the people who have upended their lives on his advice.

OK, so Mike Pence is a bag of hammers. We’ve known that for years. But it’s hard not to conclude that his boneheaded recklessness on Tuesday was prompted by Pence’s desire to prove to the president*, who’s already said he won’t wear a mask because it poses a danger to his perpetually threatened manhood, that Pence is on the team. In other words, Pence didn’t have the simple decency to appear masked in a hospital clinic in the middle of a pandemic because, in this administration*, simple decency is an act of courage beyond Mike Pence’s capabilities. He has the gallows in one eye and Nikki Haley in the other.

Or you could say it’s not so he could look other people in the eye…it’s so he could kiss one particular person’s orange, fat, lard ass.

Have the meatloaf, Mike.

Pulp Fiction Thursday: Rodent Mutation

The title of this 1961 sci-fi potboiler speaks for itself: it’s about mutated rodents. Bron Fane, however, is a pseudonym for Lionel Fanthorpe. It’s also an anagram for Boner Fan, which may or may not be an accident.

Project Novel: Tongue In The Mail, Chapter 25

We began this saga at the end of March and conclude it at the end of April. No details, no spoilers.

There are several musical shout-outs. Here’s the last one in the book. It’s what would play as they rolled the credits in the unlikely event it was adapted for teevee or the movies:

Repeat after me: this is the final installment. A reminder that you can catch up on earlier chapters of Project Novel by clicking here.

Thanks again for reading.

Our story continues after the break.

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I Didn’t Know What Time It Was

A recurring theme of the pandemic lockdown is how hard it is to keep the days straight. The usual landmarks of work, school, and major events are absent. A Tuesday can feel much like a Saturday right now. So much for the title of this old movie:

Of course, today is Wednesday. I’m adrift in a timeless and tourist-less universe, y’all. Btw, I’d forgotten that a young Ian McShane was in the above movie as was Patricia Routledge who later played Hyancinth Bucket and Hetty Wainthrop. Enough teevee trivia…

In New Orleans, Jazz Fest 2020 has been cancelled outright but WWOZ-FM is running what it calls Festing In Place. It’s been great fun. The festivities resume tomorrow. Check it out at their web site. They’ve even replicated the legendary scheduling cubes.

Where the hell was I? Oh, yeah, today’s Songs From The Pandemic entry.  I guess I lost track of time. It happens daily…

I Didn’t Know What Time It Was was written by Duke Ellington’s peers Richard Rodgers and Lorenz Hart for the 1939 musical Too Many Girls. It’s been recorded too many times to count or is that countless times? I’m easily confused nowadays. What day is it? What time is it?

I Didn’t Know What Time It Was is a haunting mid-tempo ballad with typically witty lyrics by Larry Hart:

I didn’t know what day it was
You held my hand
Warm, like the month of May it was
And I’ll say it was grand

May is on the way. I somehow doubt Hart foresaw a lockdown but, as I like to say, you never can tell.

We have four versions of this Rodgers and Hart classic by Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, James Taylor and Art Blakey’s Jazz Messengers with the great Wayne Shorter on saxophone.

Take your time and listen to them all. Btw, it’s Wednesday and we’re not in Belgium but some Belgian beer would be nice.

Stephen Miller’s Song

Shakespeare At Dusk by Edward Hopper

While we’ve all had our eyes on the pandemic, despicable White House aide and self-hating Jew Stephen Miller has kept busy. You can detect his hand behind President* Pennywise’s immigration “ban.” It was, of course, devised to distract attention from the regime’s supremely inept pandemic response. They’ve tried lying their way through it and it’s blown up in their pasty, white faces or in Trump’s case, orange.

The other reason I’m plagued by thoughts about Miller is a Slate piece by Jeremy Stahl that reminds us of Miller’s racist malefactions. It’s part of a series about Trump administration malfeasance. This post is full of M-words. Here are two more: Miller is a malodorous motherfucker. That felt mighty, mighty good.

You’re probably wondering what I’m on about with the post title. It’s down to Richard Thompson-Edward Hopper month at Saturday Odds & Sods. I’ve been listening to RT’s back catalog a lot of late and one song in particular strikes me as relevant to this moment in time. Time is still on my mind as you’ll see later today. I’ve also thrown one more Hopper painting into the mix as the featured image. Never enough EH or RT.

The exact point-of-view of the 1979 Richard Thompson song, Civilisation, remains somewhat murky; something the songwriter is unlikely to clarify other than to state it doesn’t reflect his own political views. I’ve always interpreted it as a narrative tune with a far-right xenophobic protagonist spouting bigoted bile and nonsense about immigrants. Hence my idiosyncratic connection of it with far-right racist and xenophobic Trump aide, Stephen Miller. There’s occasionally method to my madness.

Civilisation is the opening track of the penultimate Richard and Linda Thompson album, Sunnyvista. It rocks like crazy and, as you might have gathered, has disturbing RT lyrics:

They’re not human, they’re with the Woolwich
They eat food I wouldn’t give to my dog
They’re hygienic, medicated
They wouldn’t live next door to no wog
They’re not human, where do they come from?
I don’t know what they’re living here for
They don’t belong here, on this planet
What are they doing in the house next door?

Wife’s tranquilized, milk’s pasteurized
Kid’s hypnotized by the t.v.
Dad’ll beat you, dog’ll eat you
They’ll treat you like family

All across the nation
It’s civilisation

They’re not human, they’ve got a new car
They’re going to polish it all the day long
Got a brand new rubber woman
They’re going to blow her up all the night long
They’re not human, it’s a double cross
They sold out for a handful of beads
They sold everything for nothing, just a
Headful of dreams and a handful of greed

Keep ’em happy, keep ’em drinking
Keep ’em laughing, no thinking
No dying, no weeping
Keep ’em hypnotized, keep ’em sleeping

All across the nation
It’s civilisation

Pack you off to school, get working
Get a steady job, no shirking
Get to sixty-five, get a handshake
You’re a vegetable with a heartache

All across the nation
It’s civilisation

I hear the sound of Stephen Miller clapping and nodding his head.

There’s an overly literal interpretive video of Civilisation on YouTube by a dude with a handle that I originally thought was German, Mehefinheulog. It turns out to be Welsh. He  uses images of movie space aliens and includes frequent nods to Sir Kenneth Clark’s genteel and erudite teevee series, Civilisation. RT’s protagonist may be wordy but he’s neither genteel nor erudite.

Stephen Miller and his ilk believe they’re stalwart defenders of Western civilization instead of malevolent bigots. I assume his family remains ashamed of him. They should be mortified. That’s the last M-word of this post.

Album Cover Art Wednesday: Time Out

Time Out was a big hit in 1959 and thereafter because of Take Five. It was the only composition not by pianist/band leader Dave Brubeck. Reed man Paul Desmond took home the gold for Take Five. Brubeck’s Blue Rondo a la Turk is just as good.

There are many variations on S Neil Fujita’s cover art. This is one of them:

Here’s the whole damn album. It epitomizes the West Coast cool Jazz of that era. It’s a genuine classic:

 

Tuesday Catblogging

Adrastos said I should do this so here you go, here is our dumbass, here is the biggest lard on earth, all he does is flop around and whine for pets and playtime like a fucken dog. Like I am eating breakfast and he drags the half-dismembered feather stick toy over and drops it on my feet and nudges my knee and then puts his paws up on my lap and then if I STILL don’t pay attention BECAUSE I’M EATING BREAKFAST YOU DUMB HAMBONE he starts to meow.

slade

He almost never meows. His sister screams at us from dawn til dusk but he is quiet unless he’s very angry (growling) or very needy (playtime while I’m TRYING TO DRINK MY GODDAMN COFFEE IN PEACE).

If’en I wanted a damn dog I would have got a dog. I got some cats because they would ignore me most of the time, not because I needed two more things in my house that would pester me for attention.

I give up and throw his stupid stick for him to fetch every time, though, because look at his dumb lard face. Every night around 9:30 he comes over to the couch and flops himself on me like he’s just had a hard day at work and needs a beer, and he purrs and purrs and purrs.

Moron.

A.

Digital Deserts

This kind of thing is why internet triumphalism always sounds like it’s coming out of someone’s ass: 

The schools recently sent Chromebooks to all of Black’s grandchildren, so they’ve been driving to the high school parking lot to get online. Each day they pile into a red minivan and drive 7 miles to the high school, where they work for up to four hours — or until somebody needs to go to the bathroom.

But Black said she worries about them getting kidnapped or injured when they’re gone.

“You keep calling them and they get agitated, and then they say ‘Grandma, I was in the middle of the work and you just called me,’ ” she said.

This is why it makes me insane whenever somebody starts screaming about how DIGITAL IS THE FUTURE MAN because … for who? How?

Maybe one of our Silicon Valley fanboys who “consult” for half a million dollars a minute can figure this out before we go back to foldable phones or whatever the hell dumb toy is jerking the joint of the Kids These Days. These are Kids These Days too, and they don’t need a watch that talks to their fridge, they need what middle class white kids had 10 years ago.

Yo Elon when you’re done with your supertunnel to the sun or whatever.

A.

In My Room

Brian Wilson is on the record as an admirer of Duke Ellington. I suspect Duke would look favorably on this entry. It’s certainly a tune for our times.

Along with Gary Usher, Brian wrote In My Room in 1963 for The Beach Boys Surfer Girl album. As with many of the best early Brian Wilson songs, it combines adolescent angst with sophisticated harmonies.

We have three versions for your listening pleasure: The Beach Boys original; a 1996 Linda Ronstadt cover, and a pandemic era a capella version by former Journey frontman, Steve Perry.

This Is Some Serious Shit

If it’s Monday, it’s time for another Panic In The Streets image. I’m not sure if Pandemic Chronicles will become a thing, BUT the image of Paul Douglas’ cop character trying to shake some sense into one of Jack Palance’s criminal cronies fits my mood today.

I find the dialogue in the country increasingly worrisome. Initially, I was among those who thought we’d go back to a modified version of Gamaliel’s normalcy when lockdown restrictions were eased. That was wishful thinking and whistling past the graveyard. I am a self-confessed optimist, after all. Better stir crazy than dead. And it’s a slow painful death.

The world right now is like a snow globe or kaleidoscope that’s been shaken thereby producing a new and much messier place. In many ways, it will resemble the old world, but the underlying reality will be very different.

Thanks to the slow and incompetent reaction of the corrupt nitwits in charge of our federal government, we’re facing the worst economy since the Great Depression. I guess that makes Trump Herbert Hoover with bad hair. It took a World War to finally end that depression. God only knows what will do the trick this time around but it won’t be jeremiads against China, immigrants, or the MSM.

It’s time to return to the pre-Reagan counter-revolution federal government: higher tax rates on the 1% and massive federal programs to put people back to work. We used to have a strong social safety net and many employers who gave a shit about their employees. It will be easier to rebuild the former than the latter. It’s time for the era of big government to return.

I’m also alarmed by the people on my side of the fence who blithely believe that the cavalry, in the form of a vaccine, will ride in to save the day in the last reel of the movie. It’s going to take more than a year regardless of how much money Bill Gates throws at it. COVID-19 is analogous to HIV and there’s still not a vaccine that prevents that plague. We’re in for the long haul. It will take 18 months to 2 years for this to happen; even then it may not be as comprehensive as one would hope. This virus morphs like crazy, which is why it’s so hard to nail down the symptoms.

The event cancellations have only just begun. I got a kick out of Saints fans debating the merits of the team signing accused rapist and shoplifter Jameis Winston to backup Drew Brees. No point in getting outraged when the NFL season may be another casualty of the plague. I hope I’m wrong about this but the only way the season can safely progress is to play in empty stadia and to isolate the players from their families. I’m not sure if the players will want to perfect the gladiator analogy by going along with such a plan. They love their families too. The alternative is for the NFL to stock up on body bags.

As a member of the New Orleans Carnival community, I’m worried that the 2021 season might be cancelled. The odds became 60-40 in favor of cancellation after Germany cancelled Oktoberfest, which is just as culturally important to them as Carnival is to us. And they have a competent federal government; something we are sadly lacking.

Unless there’s an effective vaccine, holding Carnival as usual is asking for trouble. It would be a crying shame but another spike in Coronavirus deaths is the possible alternative. Talk about a lose-lose situation.

We’re having the wrong discussion in this country right now. It’s not a choice between the economy and public health, we should be debating how to contain the pandemic with the fewest casualties possible. Americans are impatient and not good at focusing on the big picture. That needs to change but it won’t as long as the GOP controls the Senate and White House. It’s time for them to go.

That concludes this rare edition of Apocalypse Adrastos. I hope I’m wrong about most of this stuff, but the country is suffering from a surfeit of magical thinking, so some pessimism is in order.

Repeat after me: This is some serious shit.

The last word goes to Old 97’s from the Graveyard Whistling album:

Project Novel: Tongue In The Mail, Chapter 24

Our story is nearly over. This is the penultimate installment: the last two chapters are long so Chapter 24 stands alone today. I wanted to keep you puzzled and mystified until Wednesday. Besides, I’ll miss posting Tongue In The Mail. I hoped y’all have enjoyed reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed sharing this hitherto unpublished novel.

In this installment, we learn that our narrator survived being shot to the tune of Richard Thompson’s Shoot Out The Lights, but another character is not so lucky. The identity of the law school murderer is nailed down and a plan to capture him is hatched. There will still be twists: I promised to keep you puzzled and mystified, after all.

This is the rare chapter without any musical shout-outs so I’ll share the RT song that should have been cited somewhere in our story:

Slander is a loving tongue, indeed

There is only one more installment to go. A reminder that you can catch up on earlier chapters of Project Novel by clicking here.

Our story continues after the break.

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Today on Tommy T’s Obsession with the Freeperati – Three course squeal edition

Wow – so much stupid, so little time! The Freeperati’s little bubble world is crumbling all around them, and it’s quite the banquet of schadenfreude, so let’s start with a little appetizer – “How did they blow this one??”

Democrat-backed candidate wins Wisconsin Supreme Court race
The Hill ^ | 4/13/20 | Tal Axelrod

Posted on 4/13/2020, 7:32:16 PM by DoodleDawg

Dane County Circuit Judge Jill Karofsky unseated Justice Daniel Kelly in a hotly contested race last week that drew national attention from both major political parties, according to Monday evening reports.

The Wisconsin primary took place on April 7 despite health fears from the coronavirus pandemic, which led to a surge in absentee ballots that delayed the results for about a week.

While the race was technically nonpartisan, Karofsky drew support from national Democrats, while the GOP fell in line behind Kelly, who was appointed to the court in 2016 to fill a vacancy and was running for his first full term

****************

Kelly has apparently conceded. Drops the conservative majority down to 4 seats to 3.

1 posted on 4/13/2020, 7:32:16 PM by DoodleDawg

We seldom get the thread title post so soon, but here we go :
To: DoodleDawg
how did they blow this one?
2 posted on 4/13/2020, 7:34:03 PM by bjcoop
Um – more people voted for Karofsky?  Just a hunch.

To: DoodleDawg

Is this a sign of things to come?

I’m thinking “yes”.

Seems we keep losing races!

Noticed that, did you?

Sad and damn!! The rats are on a tear!

6 posted on 4/13/2020, 7:35:56 PM by RoseofTexas

Actually, the tears I’m seeing aren’t coming from Democrats.
FreeperTears
To: CondorFlight

Well, you get what you vote for (and deserve it…)

Good and Hard.

10 posted on 4/13/2020, 7:36:52 PM by dfwgator (Endut! Hoch Hech!)
FreudOnVacation
To: DoodleDawg

 

Could it be something as simple as more Democrats voted on April 7 than Republicans because there was a contested presidential primary on the Dem side?

21 posted on 4/13/2020, 8:03:42 PM by Dr. Sivana (There is no salvation in politics)

Blasphemer3

To: Dr. Sivana

Could it be something as simple as more Democrats voted on April 7 than Republicans because there was a contested presidential primary on the Dem side?

Was it really that contested? Biden has basically had it wrapped up since last month. A Supreme Court seat, on the other hand, would be something people would turn out for.

23 posted on 4/13/2020, 8:05:18 PM by DoodleDawg
Of course, there’s a shit ton of the usual “The old mail-in ballot victory” posts, but that’s kinda as-read.

The whole thread boils down to this one post :

To: DoodleDawg; Impy; BillyBoy; LS; NFHale; GOPsterinMA; campaignPete R-CT; AuH2ORepublican; …

 

Whut the **** ?!?!

26 posted on 4/13/2020, 8:09:06 PM by fieldmarshaldj (Dear Mr. Kotter, #Epsteindidntkillhimself – Signed, Epstein’s Mother)

Heh.
.
And that was just the appetizer – the good stuff is located at the “Continue reading”, so fer chrissakes, continue reading!

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From Here

I have started planning for summer camp being cancelled.

We’ve been hunkered down since March 13, when Kick’s school closed and my job sent everybody to work from home. Mr. A has worked from home for years, but usually he travels to meet with co-workers or for office obligations; all of that, several trips’ worth, has been forbidden.

We hoped Kick’s school closing would be short-lived; it’s a large school, 400 elementary kids, but a neighborhood one, the kind where everybody comes from the same 12 blocks. Nobody anybody knew was sick, then. So I held out for April 1 which has, of course, come and gone. Then May 1, which won’t matter now: school’s closed, everything’s closed.

I then set my sights on summer camp being our return to normalcy. She signed up back in February. She would swim, and skate, and play games and make crafts and most importantly, hang out with her friends. But our neighborhood festivals into June and July have all been cancelled, and now I’m starting to think summer camp won’t happen either.

She hasn’t asked about it, and we are careful to talk about how lucky we are: A secure home, Mom and Dad’s work that continues, plenty of options to play, video calls with friends. (As if children ever know any lives but their own.) Mr. A and I talk at night, lesson plans, dividing the day, enriching and distracting, and every once in a while ask each other: How does this END?

The mouthbreathing astroturfing protesters wanting to “open” the “economy” are, of course, ridiculous and racist and dumb, but the question they raise is one that has no answer.

I am so angry at everyone who voted for this man. For the party that made him happen because it was either him or lose power. I am so angry at anyone who thought this kind of chaos was acceptable so they could put others in their place. None of this had to happen.

The problems it has exposed — the absurdity of American health care, crushing debts and expenses, the frayed and small and mean thing we dare call a safety net — are precisely why we all should have voted against the GOP in the first place and always should have.

I would like to say that’s how this ends but that’s NOVEMBER, it cannot possibly, except it can, and even then: To re-hire all the people Trump’s people fired, to make the Senate function, to scare every ex-Nixon bagman back into his hole, to make Stephen Miller build his own catapult and launch himself into the sun, to undo the bans and gag rules and rebuild any kind of trust.

Months. Years, lost to this, and even if there’s a vaccine fucking Fox News will convince 2/3 of Americans not to take it. States are already reorganizing into safe areas and danger zones; I was JOKING the other day about a Midwestern non-aggression pact that would only include Indiana if they BEHAVED, and then within 12 hours everyone sane was like “what if we just pretended we could be our own country” and did it.

None of this had to happen. We made it happen, and we are trying to figure out how to live in it, and the only hope I have, besides the forlorn one of my kid in a pool, is that we remember that this is always how it is, that we are always the ones who make the world. We should think harder about how we do it.

A.

Not Everything Sucks: Baking Edition

Ramadan Mubarak: 

ARRAF: Well, that, too, is really limited because there are those bans on travel. And some countries have relaxed curfews; some places like Dubai have even opened up shopping malls. But it’s difficult. People are trying to adapt, though. We went through the south of Jordan in the town of Shobak (ph) yesterday on the eve of Ramadan, and that’s where we found this pop-up bakery.

UNIDENTIFIED BAKERY EMPLOYEE: (Non-English language spoken).

ARRAF: It’s a tiny little place. The guy who’s shouting is actually welcoming people. He’s saying come and get qatayef. That’s this crescent-shaped sweet that’s traditionally eaten at Ramadan. One of the workers, Khalid Love-Dore says they just opened because the hotel they normally work in was closed. This is him.

KHALID LOVE-DORE: (Non-English language spoken).

ARRAF: And he says for anyone who has no money, they’ll give them anything they want for free because Ramadan is really a time of sacrifice and thinking of others. And even though a lot of the other traditions have gone by the wayside, charity remains one of the most important traditions.

A.

 

Not Everything Sucks

Matthew Ryan and Brian Fallon put on a concert on Instagram and shot the shit and talked about music and then Matthew Ryan who’s probably my favorite living singer/songwriter sang Run Rabbit Run, and it was almost enough to make you forget the world burning down:

A.

Saturday Odds & Sods: The Ghost Of You Walks

Nighthawks by Edward Hopper.

Richard Thompson-Edward Hopper month concludes with a perverse pairing of Hopper’s most famous painting and a lesser known RT gem.

There’s not a lot to report this week since we’re on lockdown like everybody else. The polls don’t seem to reflect the Impeached Insult Comedian’s notion that people are desperate to resume normal life and take another bite out of the COVID-19 apple. Even 70% of rank and file Republicans would rather not die. Imagine that. So much for the Trump Death Cult.

This week’s theme song was written by Richard Thompson for his 1996 album You? Me? Us? Dig those crazy question marks. It also has a cool Max Ernst-like collage album cover, which may turn up some Wednesday. You never can tell.

We have two versions of The Ghost Of You Walks for your listening pleasure. The studio original and a live teevee performance on the BBC’s Later with Jools Holland. The latter is just the two unrelated Thompsons: Richard and Danny.

I’m not afraid of ghosts but if you are, let’s jump to the break to escape.

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Living In A Ghost Town

I had other plans for this feature until yesterday. They can wait. The Rolling Stones just released their first original music since 2012. If we could dance in the streets, we would surely do that, but we’re on lockdown, so tapping our toes will have to suffice.

Unsurprisingly, Living In A Ghost Town is about the pandemic. I guess you figured that out by its presence in this feature. D’oh.

The video features eerie footage of empty streets and tube stations in London. It’s one of my favorite cities in the world and its never this quiet; a scene replicated throughout the world. It’s just as imperative there as in the US&A. The Tory government of Boris Johnson engaged in the same sort of magical thinking as that of President* Pennywise. Boris, however, never advocated ingesting or injecting cleaning fluids. There’s stupid and there’s supremely stupid. The Kaiser of Chaos takes the cake.

As the lyrics of the song put it, “Life was so beautiful, then we all got locked down.”

Without further ado, ladies and germs, The Rolling Stones:

Here’s some musical lagniappe from Richard Thompson with The Sights and Sounds Of London Town. No, it’s not Saturday, it just feels like it. Warning: there are only sounds, not sights.

 

Only The Stupid Or Cynical

I’m sure many of you have argued with elderly relatives as to whether President* Pennywise is stupid. Fellow rich guy Rex Tllerson called him a “fucking moron,” after all.

My argument is weirder than yours. My elderly relative is a Hillary loving liberal who loathes Donald Trump, but she refuses to believe that *any* president can be as stupid as Trump seems to be. We’ve gone round and round about this for years.

She stubbornly maintains he’s merely ignorant of the things a president typically knows. I think she’s confusing him with Dubya or Reagan. They were ignorant of some things but not inherently stupid. Their ideology led to them to do stupid things. Reagan was smart enough to listen to his advisers and he even read his briefing books. Imagine that.

I’ve repeatedly pointed out that there’s a difference between lacking curiosity and stupidity. Trump is flat-out, painfully stupid. He’s an idiot, a moron, a dipshit, a dunce, a dolt. Whatever your favorite epithet for stupid is, he’s it.

My elderly relative is a worshiper of mammon so she refuses to believe that a rich person can be as stupid as Trump seems to be. She waives off my argument that he inherited a real estate empire from Fred Trump and ran it into the ground. Who else has ever lost money running a casino?

I’ve been tempted to argue that I’m a semi well-respected internet pundit but if it’s not in print, it doesn’t count. She’s a nonagenarian so making such a pretentious argument wouldn’t work in any event. To paraphrase what I said about Brokaw’s Greatest Generation in Tongue In The Mail: They won the war, so they don’t have to listen.

As everyone already knows, the Impeached Insult Comedian reached peak stupid yesterday:

“I see the disinfectant that knocks it out in a minute, one minute,” he said during the White House’s daily press briefing. “And is there a way we can do something like that by injection inside or almost a cleaning? ‘Cause you see it gets in the lungs, and it does a tremendous number on the lungs.”

The makers of Lysol felt compelled to issue a safety warning. They should add a new warning label: Listening to President* Trump is hazardous to your health.

After the inject or ingest bleach statement, it’s become even more obvious that only the stupid or cynical can continue to support President* Pennywise. I’ve long thought that the vaunted Trump base is much smaller than people think it is. He lost conservative-leaning college educated suburban women in 2018. He’s never getting them back.

The only way the Impeached Insult Comedian can be stay in office past 2021 is by massive fraud or cancelling the election outright. I remain dubious that he’ll do the latter because he’s so deluded that he still thinks he will not only win but in a landslide. There will be fraud that makes 2016 look like the most honest election in history. Be alert: Don’t let the fuckers steal another election. Your life may depend on it.

As to my stubborn Trump-hating relative who refuses to believe he’s stupid, I’ll quote my favorite dead writer:

The last word goes, not to GV, but to XTC. They, however, anticipated that a President Kill would massacre people by war, not virus:

Project Novel: Tongue In The Mail, Chapters 22 & 23

The plot thickens as speculation continues about whodunit if it wasn’t Guy Zeringue. The action peaks in Chapter 23 after our characters finish the bar exam.

There are several musical shout-outs in this entry. The second one is the biggie; tease, tease.

There are only two more installments to go. A reminder that you can catch up on earlier chapters of Project Novel by clicking here.

Our story continues after the break.

Continue reading