It’s finally happened. The Bon Jovi songs I knew and loved in college have been transformed into lounge-lizard orchestral elevator muzak. I found myself humming “Whoa-oa, we’re half-way there” as I passed the sixth floor on my way to the twelfth. This is a sure sign that I am aging. Another one is that…
Well, I can’t remember right now, but a third one is that someone out there is looking to run the free world who is (ulp) younger than I am.
Unless you reside under a rock or perhaps work for the New York Times, you have probably heard that Slick Mitt from Mich and Mass is seeking help with his perennial presidential bid from Paul Ryan, a green-horned baby-face with way too much hair and less body fat than a 2×4. Continue reading
It has been reported that New York City Mayor Michael “So Rich Nothing Really Matters Anymore” Bloomberg intends to seek a ban on selling soda in containers larger than 16 ounces. This of course is a ban on drinking soda and not baking soda, which is not to be confused with baking powder, which is almost like cornstarch, but not really. And of course, when I speak of cornstarch it is not to be confused with ironing starch, though I’ve heard you can use cornstarch to iron your shirts which goes a long way in explaining why the leaves on corn stalks are so crisp and wrinkle-free. Continue reading
The other day I read how our presumptive redundant presidential nominees have been in imaginary trouble for their respective school-age high-jinks. Slick Mitt from Mich and Mass is reported as providing an unwanted haircut to a victim who is now conveniently dead and whose family has no recollection of the incident. Republicans countered by pointing out that P.BO reported in his own book that, in an uncharacteristic Binky-like moment, he once shoved a little girl in a playground altercation. This, in turn, provoked the Democrats to respond with, “Nanny-nanny boo-boo.” To which the Republicans replied, “I know you are, but what am I?” And so on. Continue reading