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finally! a rich Caucasian male in the White House

July 21, 2017

For those of you worried about the lack of former Goldman Sachs employees in The Don’s administration, breathe again.  With the appointment of Anthony Scaramucci as his communications director, Trump drains even more of the swamp into the White House.

Scaramucci had just become a honcho at the U.S. Export-Import Bank, a federal agency.  He’s a Harvard graduate.  I’m certain of this because he mentioned it several times during his roll-out today.  On January 12th, he was named: (deep breath) Presidential Advisor and Director of the White House Office of Public Liaison and Intergovernmental Affairs.  But by the end of the month, with his appointment still pending, it fell through.

Two fun facts about him: (1) he did fundraising for Obama in 2008; and (2) he wrote the book Goodbye, Gordon Gekko: How to Find Your Fortune Without Losing Your Soul.

Sean Spicer will stay on through August, doing Trump-knows-what.  Please feel free to enjoy that time referring to the Scaramucci-Spicer team as “Scary Spice”.  Sara Huckabee Sanders replaces Sean.  She’s been seen — mostly just heard — recently filling in for him.  Although she relays Trump’s whale shit as diligently as Spicey did, at least she coats it with a thick molasses-and-magnolias Southern drawl.  Look for Trump to tweet that he’s saving taxpayers money by paying her 30% less than Spicer, making America ever greater.

Scaramucci has the confidence, look and gloss of a  . . .  well, Wall Street lawyer.  His main qualification for the job, apparently, is a Jonestown-level loyalty to the Mad Yam.  When asked about Trump’s assertion of the phantom 3 million illegal voters, he said “if the President says it, it’s most likely true”.  Preserve that wiggle room, Anthony.

Even though we’ve seen the Cheeto get winded just from walking, Scaramucci assured us that Trump is a superb athlete.  He has seen Aging Orange throw a football through a tire, although he didn’t specify the distance.  He’s seen him sink foul shots while wearing a top coat.  How the basketball ever got into the top coat, we’ll never know.  (Thanks, Groucho.)  Such fawning fare reminds me of the accounts of the North Korean Kims bowling a perfect game and scoring 11 holes-in-one in a single round of golf .

So, good luck, Scary.  All you have to do is make the world sympathetic to a man whose ego is so crushing that he maniacally pursues a steaming pile of a health care bill  just to get “a win”.  Problem is, there’s not enough turd polish in the world.

the silver lining in this shit storm

May 29, 2017

All we really know about Trump so far is that he can read at a sixth-grade level and tweet at a third-grade level.  His deal-making is so bad the GOP had to play like it done a good thing  by passing a terrible health bill that will soon meet the Senate’s Death Panel.

His high water mark, apparently, is getting Gorsuch into SCOTUS.  But Gorsuch replaced Antonin Scalia, and will probably be more moderate.  Aging Orange has accomplished one impressive feat, though: when he said he fired Comey for being mean to Hilary, he made satire irrelevant.  Briefly.

No matter.  Slip into something comfortable, secure plenty of fluids, and do a Popeye’s run, because the Ringling Brothers did not, in fact, close down.  The circus has moved into the Oval Office.

It’s almost an embarrassment of riches to see Donnie try to tread water in a sea of leaks.  I hope I’m stopping short of schadenfreude here.  But –Jeez Christ!– this guy is only looking out for a handful of family.  And I’m not sure that even includes Eric and Tiffany.

Plus, he’s creepiest when he tries to act normal.  His True Self showed at the NATO summit when he pushed past Dusko Markovic, the Prime Minister of Montenegro, then straightened his coat a la James Bond tugging on his cufflinks.  Oh, The Donald, were that you were as authentic as 007.

So now that Trump is inundated with Evil leaks — as opposed to Wikileaks — pop some gluten-free corn and enjoy the show.  Soon in the Main Ring: James Comey being meaner to the Cheeto than he was to Hilary.

I laud the leakers.  Some of them are taking a substantial risk.  But they are watering an impressive new crop of reporters and commentators, helping to close the gender gap.

Anyhoo, the aforementioned silver lining: although Trump’s freshest antics have muscled it aside much like Prime Minister Markovic, health care is not going to away.  I mean really not going away.  Virtually all the opinion articles I read about it, left and right, agree that the U.S. needs a comprehensive national health policy.  Obamacare, with all its faults, laid the groundwork for that.

There’s no going back.  Not even the Mad Yam can stop it.




keep on bikin’

April 20, 2017

Joyous 4-20 Day!  Revel in it as you seek the Ecstatic!  I tried to post yesterday, but the gods of WordPress frowned uponeth me.  I was going to remind you that this particular April 19th was the 74th anniversary of Bicycle Day, the first intentional LSD trip.

Let’s review.

As the daily absurdities of tRUMP’s surreality pile up — blaming Canada for trade irregularities today, e.g. — please take a moment to remember what is transient and what is permanent.

Demon Canada?  Whitey, please!

next for Pence: a paintball tournament

April 17, 2017

I suppose it was inevitable that Vice-President Pence would have to show his package after Trump dropped two huge loads recently.  But since Mike doesn’t have the authority or irrationality of Aging Orange, he had to settle for serving notice to Kim Jong-Un inside the Korean DMZ.

Cautioning the North Korean dictator that the U.S. “era of strategic patience” is over, the Veep assured Kim that all options are on the table to defend the good Koreans, the Southern ones.  He did not specify if that table was in the White House or the less hygienic Mar-a-Lago.

This is not the first time Pence has played the brave little non-soldier.  Ten years ago, he and John McCain visited a Baghdad shopping area.  According to Mike, “thousands and thousands of Iraqis were moving about in regular everyday life like a normal outdoor market in Indiana in the summertime.”

I remember the video of that.  Summer in the Hoosier State must be brutal, aside from the heat and humidity.  Pence and McCain were in flak jackets surrounded by U.S. troops in a sealed-off area.

This is a major sore point for me: politicians who hide behind the military.  More to the point, pols who never served.  You know, chickenhawks (not the gay slang ones, per se).  Current White House/Florida resident D. John Trump is a primo example.

The Cheeto received four student deferments.  After his graduation, he got a medical deferment for bone spurs on his heels.  Fortunately they went away and no longer affect his golf game, unless he’s playing through the pain.

To his credit, Trump did attend military school in New York, which likely has more dangerous summers than Indiana.  And he did tell Howard Stern that avoiding STD’s while dating was his “personal Vietnam”.

Yet he and his veep surround themselves with active duty troops and veterans for political parsley, promising a bigger military budget and better VA care.  I question the need for more muscle, and I’m still waiting for the VA to step up.

Some other vets may agree, but I’m speaking only for myself.  Indeed, the military definitely leans right.  In 2012, Time magazine said that’s largely because “today’s military is an all-volunteer force increasingly drawn from the Sunbelt, where the Pentagon has focused its recruiting efforts since the draft ended 40 years ago.  And traits the military prizes — like aggressiveness and respect for authority — tend to be more pronounced in conservatives.”





Allen in Wonderland

March 29, 2017

The gap since my last post is easily explained.  I’ve been producing a play spoofing Grease, called Wheeze.  It just finished its weekend run.  Two years ago I approached Lois, the affable manager of the venerable Heriot Bay Inn, about doing a parody of The Sound of Music in the HBI dining room.  It was a hit, so last year we mangled West Side Story.

This time around we speculated about what the kids of Rydell High School might have dealt with over the last fifty years.  Hence, the song “Greased Lightning” morphed into “Cialis”: “You’ll be having lots of frolics ’cause it helps with your hydraulics/You’ll be flowing like Niagara as you gobble up Viagra/Go, boners!”

It was a most welcome distraction from a challenging winter and the daily outrages of Aging Orange.  I won’t even attempt to summarize all the shit he’s pulled since I last bitched about him, other than to mention today’s absurdity: him telling a room full of women that he will support their every effort, less than a week after he tried to take away maternity benefits with his abysmal health plan.

So we escaped to Midol High School to see what Sammi, Dandy, Dezzo and Kandinsky had been up to this last half century.  With a talented cast and gifted directors, we regaled 125 patrons over three performances.  It was a lovely way to keep it together until spring.  We used almost every song from the original movie and live TV special, plus this nifty little ditty lifted whole cloth from Grease 2.

I also added a rewrite of the Janis Ian song “At Seventeen” to give the merriment a quiet moment.  This haunting tune from 1975 gave us lyrics like “And those of us with ravaged faces/Lacking in the social graces/Desperately remained at home/Inventing lovers on the phone/Who called to say ‘come dance with me’/And murmured vague obscenities/It isn’t all it seems/At seventeen”.  Besides being blessed relief from the disco sound, Ian’s work has the historical importance of being the first song performed on Saturday Night Live.

Here is our version:

“At seventy I reached a place/Where harshness tacked to gentle grace/And smoother seas were my reward/As deepest feelings outward poured.

The vapid stabs to be uncouth/The folly of my misspent youth/All wasted time to be thought cool/So I sought themes that teach and soothe.

Like all the love we generate/Will someday neutralize the hate/And kindness in our common soul/Will be our foremost social goal.

So those who say ‘you’re not like me’/As they advance their bigotry/Please go away/Don’t bother me/At seventy.

We’re black and white and red and brown/We all touch feet on common ground/So pity, please, who will not see/The spectrum of humanity.

The rich who think they must be kings/And tell the rest to kiss their rings/Come join our walk in humble grace/As others gain their rightful place.

Let’s hope that those who set the game/Will lose their lust for wealth and fame/Humility will rule the day/And all around will be fair play.

The petty minds will open wide/And we will bask in common pride/This is my greatest dream/At seventy.”



define “cookie”

February 8, 2017

I had trouble sleeping last night because Known Terrorist Elizabeth Warren tried to blow up the U.S. Senate with the words of Renowned Terrorist Coretta Scott King, so I started speculating about how it had come to this.  I believe it can all be traced to this exchange between Kellyanne Conway and her mother when Kellyanne was six years old:

KELLYANNE’S MOM: Kellyanne, Gramma told me you took a cookie from the kitchen.  You know those were for dessert tonight.

KELLYANNE: Mommie, I laud you for bringing up this very important issue.  Like many others in this household, I share your concern about food theft and I appreciate that you are including me in this vital discussion.  I believe if we work together, we can resolve this before it ends in a needless tragedy.

MOM: Did you take the cookie?

K.A.: Define “cookie”.

MOM: In this particular case, a disc of flour, sugar, vanilla extract, baking soda, milk, butter, walnuts, chocolate chips and an egg, baked for 10 to 15 minutes at 375 degrees.

K.A.: And how many of these “discs” were allegedly made?

MOM: About two dozen.

K.A.: “About” two dozen.  So you don’t have an accurate count?

MOM: No.

K.A.: Also, I’m having trouble with your use of the word “disc”.  Technically, a disc is flat and round.  Let’s look at those adjectives independently.  If these so-called “cookies” did indeed have chocolate chips and walnuts, their irregular shapes would disallow flatness.  As to the roundness, did you use some sort of device — a cookie cutter, for example — to ensure uniform circularity?

MOM: No, I rolled them out by hand.

K.A.: And you said you baked them for 10 to 15 minutes.  Was it ten or fifteen?  Were the 375 degrees Fahrenheit or Centigrade?

MOM: Fahrenheit.  Oven time was likely closer to 15 minutes.

K.A.: “Likely”?  Mommie, I’m trying to work with you to get to the bottom of this incident, but your vagueness is complicating matters.

MOM: Then let’s move on to the eyewitness: Gramma.

K.A.: Which gramma?  I have several.

MOM: The gramma who lives with us and is standing beside me.

GRAMMA: Kellyanne, honey.  You looked right at me when you took the cookie.

K.A.: Gramma, all due respect, please don’t tell me what I do or do not look at.  It’s well-documented that people your age have problems with memory and eyesight.  What was your frame of mind, and what was the lighting in the kitchen like that day of the alleged event?

GRAMMA: “That day” is this day.  You did it about ten minutes ago.

K.A.: “About”?  This is the memory problem that concerns me.

MOM: Speaking of memory, do you remember me telling you not to touch the cookies?

K.A.: No.  Do you have a record or a witness of having told me?

MOM: No.

K.A.: Then I won’t participate in this witch hunt any further.  I have acted in good faith and you two have done nothing but give me the runaround.  I hope we can communicate more clearly this afternoon when we discuss exactly what you mean when you say “pick up your toys”.

MOM: Go wash your hands.  It’s time for lunch.

K.A.: I’m not hungry.

feel free to take a snow day

February 4, 2017

As multitudes march for the third straight weekend, as the presidency of Le Fuck l’Orange spins and sputters to its illogical conclusion, please enjoy these pics of the farm fresh from a 7″ snow.






storm of Feb. 3-4, 2017 008.JPG



Peace be with you.