“Part Deux of The Last Annual conTIMplating 2016 Presidential Voting Guide” or “Boy, Do We Have Issues”

So last week I waxed eloquent upon the upcoming presidential election, which is increasingly becoming a toss-up, as in “I’m about to toss-up my breakfast.”   If you missed last week and wish to avoid being totally lost, you may peruse it here.  Said post, as designed, sparked a short conversation with my first-time-voting progenic offspring regarding the purported leading and distressingly fingernails-on-a-chalkboard candidates seeking the aforementioned public office.

“All I know,” said Thing 2, “is that one wants to build a wall and the other really wants to be president,” which honestly sums up their campaigns rather nicely for someone who doesn’t pay attention and frankly didn’t see the need to care until we went to see Cabaret wherein the characters do little more than eat and drink and have sex willy-nilly until they end up in concentration camps.  I do love a rollicking, feel-good musical. Continue reading

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Hillary Dillary Dock

FBI director James Comey made an announcement last week that actually had nothing to do with the fact that his last name would be a great slang term for Donald Trump’s hairstyle.

“What is that?”
“It’s a Comey.”
“I wish I had a Comey.”

Instead he made the shocking and yet entirely expected recommendation that there be no prosecution of Hillary. You recognize the name, I’m sure. Hillary has become a single name icon not unlike Madonna or Cher, partly because nobody is sure whether to say ‘Rodham’ anymore or not. When someone mentions ‘Hillary’ you no longer think Duff or Swank. There is truly only one Hillary.

Anyway… Continue reading

“A Letter to the Republican Party” or “Come on Fatso, Vote Trump or Cruz”

Happy Super Tuesday every one! I love Super Tuesday because it sounds like a Marvel comic book character from the 50s fighting for truth, justice and the American way against the evil forces of its arch-nemeses Bloody Sunday and Manic Monday.

As The Queen Mother and I intend to caucus this fine evening, we are sadly once again forced to choose between the least of evils, which has prompted me to offer a written word to the so-called Republican Party because they more and more act like an Alzheimer’s patient on bath salts in that they just don’t seem to have a clue as to what’s going on around them. And anyone who knows me at all knows that my preferred communicative medium is rap music, so…

With apologies to Young MC and his classic “Bust a Move” I give you “Come on Fatso, Vote Trump or Cruz” by Whyte Chalk-lit (my stone-cold G rapper name). Continue reading

Is Donald Trump Comparable to Jesus? Yes. Yes He Is.

If there is one thing this highly entertaining and yet disturbing political season in America has taught me, it’s that Donald Trump is pretty much just like Jesus.  And Martin Luther King of course, but mostly Jesus.  I got this information from a mister Jerry Falwell, Jr. who is a reverend and so obviously knows what he’s talking about.  You know Jerry, I’m sure.  He is president of the ironically named ‘Liberty’ University, known for its rather lengthy and comprehensive list of student restrictions.

He is also the son of the very postmortem Jerry Falwell, Sr., coincidentally of the same name and who also had a penchant for comparing people to Jesus, which proves once and for all that comical hyperbolic comparisons are hereditary.  For example, Continue reading

The Red, The White Guy, and The Blue

Once again it is the worst couple of weeks in television history. No, I’m not talking about Irritating PBS Fundraiser Time where a television network that exists solely due to our tax dollars seeks even more donations in order to bring you Daniel O’Donnell concert reruns, I’m talking about Presidential Political Convention Season where garment-renting and teeth-gnashing is not just a job, but a way of life.

Presidential political conventions used to be where a party gathered around a platform to adopt a platform and formally decide who their nomination for president would be, but have since morphed into a ceremonial, highly-scripted reason to wear goofy hats. Continue reading