Texas Two-Step

 12/16/2022

 “I pity the fool attempting to diagnose Breschard.” said Doctor T.

It has come to my attention that a rumor or story or factual report has been circulating that I have recently been discovered to be the proud owner of a bladder cancer. At this moment in time I want to put an end to the speculation that I have been so afflicted by stating categorically that I am indeed dancing with bladder cancer.

Not to worry. It's being dealt with.

Let's go back a few months, late June. My BW, Nell, is teaching a miniatures class in Castine, Maine, when she comes down with COVID. She could only remain housed where she was for three more days and quarantines were meant to be at least seven, so it came down to me to make the 1,100 mile drive from our home in Michigan to Castine to pick her up and take her back to our suburban paradise. I like to drive, but a 2,200 mile round trip does put a bit of a dent into one’s weekend plans. The emergency evacuation went well, but on the first day of my drive I made a rest stop for the usual reasons. While visiting the porcelain upright throne I noticed my urine was not its ordinary pale yellow but a glorious crimson.

Not to worry, probably just a kidney stone seeking its freedom. The rest of the rescue mission was non-eventful and from then until now my body has remained gloriously asymptomatic.

Back at my home WiFi I promptly did what any 2022 citizen does and Googled what to do when you see blood in your urine and haven’t recently received a pounding kidney punch from your significant other. What you do is see your doctor. Checked it a dozen times and they all said see your doctor. Probably not a serious problem, could be from driving too much, but you should see your doctor.

I made a non-emergency appointment with my GP. In three weeks.

Saw my GP and she had me take all the usual tests.

A few days later an appointment was made with a urinary surgical oncologist (my dream job as an eight year old). Three weeks.

Meet the oncologist. He fist bumps me and calls me “Buddy”. Twenty-five years my junior and he calls me “Buddy”.

Schedule an exploratory procedure. Let’s say in another two weeks. I could look up all the exact dates, but why bother?

I get set for the procedure where they are to send some kind of alien technology probe up my penis for a look see. I’m cool, relaxed, and wearing a backless dress for maybe the second time in my life. Everything going swell, three other people in the room, and I’m not sweating this at all. They swab or whatever my Willie, and my “Buddy” says that will numb me sufficiently. I have no problem with drugs designed to keep pain in abeyance.

Then they send the Raquel Welch piloted probe up my Precious.

I doubt any of you have ever heard me scream. Let me say here that I was quite loud. It was a feeling I can only imagine to be similar to having a saguaro cactus shoved through that tiny, tiny hole at the tip of the penis. Aside from what might be considered impolite screamed verbiage I distinctly remember yelling at the top of my lungs that I should start singing in my usual horrible voice so at least the three of them could experience some pain. I don’t know how long the pain lasted but rather rapidly my “Buddy” called a halt to the procedure. My guess is “Buddy” didn’t wait long enough for the pain killer to take effect. But that’s just an amateur’s opinion.

Buddy came in later and apologized. I was most gracious and said words to the effect of “shit happens”.

Schedule a procedure where they’ll put me under general and try to remove a tumor in my bladder. Three weeks more.

Meantime I see my GP again and she reads the report, which I’d already perused

Apparently there were some code words I’m not privy to, that indicated I didn’t have a swell time with my last procedure.

Meantime I’m having MRIs or other very expensive shit like that. Again I could look it up, but I’m not going to. Interrupts my narrative flow.

Three weeks and I’m on an operating table for the first time since I had my tonsils taken out when I was about 10. I’ve been one healthy camper much to the surprise of many.

They put me out. They go in. I wake up. Eventually my “Buddy” let’s me know that he couldn’t do the whole job since my bladder is the proud owner of a “diverticulum” which is basically the same thing as a corner pocket on a pool table. Buddy couldn’t get into the pocket to remove everything. Probably never played pool in a barroom when he was cracking those texts in undergrad. Lab says definitely cancer.

Schedule another what they call a TURBT. (trans urethral resection of bladder tumor). Buddy also informs me around this time that I’ll probably have to have my bladder removed. Happy! Happy! Happy!

Another month passes and Buddy goes in again. Gets most I guess. Lab tests, similar shit.

Buddy recommends me to one of his work pals who I guess will be handling my chemo. Three more weeks to meet the guy. New doc comes to my appointment and shows such concern for my case that he’s reading my file for the first time as he’s talking to my BW and myself. Such professionalism. I can do cold reads better than that.

I have to credit Buddy and the other guy with one thing. They both suggested I get a second opinion. Nearest good hospital is University of Michigan about an hour away. Buddy told me some of his patients don’t get a second opinion because it’s too far away. I don’t kiss my bladder goodbye that quickly, and I like to drive.

A month later at U of M. Welcome to OZ. New doc is another surgical oncologist. It seems to me, although my BW disagrees, that she was ready to remove my organ (What - no monkey?) until I ask her if there is a way to treat my condition other than surgery.

And she says “When you have a hammer.”

Anybody who knows me reasonably well understands my style includes a healthy respect for non-elaboration. Basically I aim for an audience which is at least as clever as a bright sophomore in high school. At that age you shouldn’t need to have everything explained to you. “When you have a hammer” should be enough for a good reader to bring to mind “When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail.” What’s necessary with a little mental work, and no more.

Click.

New doc suggests I see a radiologist in her group. An alternative including radiation and chemo is proposed instead of removing my pal, myself, my bladder.

Radio guy gives me a COVID fist bump but definitely doesn’t call me “Buddy”.

Another TURBT is scheduled in a month which happens to have been yesterday.

I’m writing this with another catheter shoved up my cock, that’s what happens after every one of my TURBTs and this is my third TURBT. Definitely not the definition of “A real pisser.” (Pissah for youse Bostonians.)

Yesterday my BW chats with my second opinion first doc while I’m still under anesthesia and I’m later informed that the doc says that she’s “cautiously optimistic” after scraping my bladder again that I might not need any further treatment. We’ll hear about that in another five days or so but will probably have to schedule another extremely expensive MRI. (I love the way the medical profession makes up imaginary numbers for their billing departments. Hey, we’ll charge the government 30K for this and by the way you still owe us a hundred bucks. I bring them an imaginary 30K worth of business and they still want a hundred bucks from me? I’d say decimate the MBAs but I’d lose too many friends.)

As of now it’s all looking pretty good. Even if I still need some treatment, radiation and chemo appear to work pretty well. But there’s hope that I might not need any at all.

With any luck in couple of weeks I’ll be able to say, like Emily Litella, “Never mind.”

Couple of weeks. I could probably do that even with a catheter up my cock the whole time. Fortunately the catheter is coming out Wednesday.

…………

A quick note. When I get past all of this, I hope to Thor nobody refers to me as a fuqqin cancer survivor. When somebody or something attacks someone and they beat them back and away, you don’t call the victor a survivor. When Ali wiped the canvas with Foreman, nobody called Ali a survivor. When I beat the crap out of this cancer I’ll allow all of you to call me Champ. And Champ I’ll remain until I’m Champ no longer.

................

12/22/2022

Word from the pill pushers is that the cancerous growth has probably been totally removed and has not invaded the rest of my corpus. Will need a few more tests to confirm but this is the best news I could have expected.  I'm so happy I think I'll go out and play in traffic!

START MAKING SENSE

Now that our presidential race has almost begun (you really can’t start a prezzie grudge match until both bloated corporate tweedle parties, Deepubs and Deedems, have officially selected their designated mouthpiece), it’s time to clear up some matters.

Anyone, and I mean anyone, who barfs out the slogan, “Not voting for Biden is the same as voting for Chump!” should have their high school diploma revoked (Being most generous in assuming they were awarded one. Possibly a participation trophy?). This bit of brilliance is right up there with “You’re either for me or against me!”, both being mental products designed to enrage rather than enlighten. “Mess with me and I’ll burn down your cave” kind of wisdom.

By the kindergarten logic employed by those Deedems who weep and wail each and every time, and really, each and every time, the name Chump is mentioned (almost four years now, get over it and do something productive instead of allowing that dimwit to guide your attention) what these deluded sloganeers are also saying is, “Not voting for Chump is the same as voting for Biden!” What’s good for the gander is certainly good for the goose. Unfortunately for the Deedems, it appears that even their opponents (as dim as they certainly are) don’t make such silly, threatening (actually laughable) statements. 

A vote for Chump is a vote for Chump. A vote for Biden is a vote for Biden. A vote for anyone else is a vote for anyone else. Just because it’s not the Atlantic Ocean doesn’t mean it’s the Pacific. I am seriously surprised any of these deluded partisans were able to pass the written part of their driver’s test.

And now, those running for president can address the following issues. If I agree with their positions, they might earn my support. “My guy is better than your guy” simply doesn’t fly with me.

Put an end to all fracking and oil supports immediately. 

The Green New Deal, now.

Medicare for All. Healthcare is a human right. The buying and selling of human rights was pretty much decided by our Civil War. Both parties are presently opposed. Anyone who opposes Medicare for All and is not being compensated by the for-profit healthcare industry is a fool. These companies pay good money to their salespeople. And those who aren’t fools but deny being compensated, well, liars and thieves.

Subsidize electric vehicles and pay our fellow Americans to decommission their present gasoline machines. Cash for clunkers.

Withdraw our troops from almost all foreign bases and cut the defense budget by a whole bunch.

Guaranteed income, definitely worth discussing.

Ending the revolving door government/corporate lobbyist nonsense. Make it illegal for anyone officially involved in government to lobby for at least five years after receiving a government paycheck.

Stopping Congress members from investing in the stock market and profiting from privileged information.

Robin Hood tax on Wall Street. Wealth Tax. Raising taxes a good bunch on those earning over $200,000 a year. And end so many other policies the extreme wealthy have burdened this country with for decades.

All of these items involve money. 

Certainly not all of them will be addressed in ways with which I’ll agree, but to earn my support some have to be addressed in ways which won’t destroy the earth or imperil our existence. I am unimpressed by Deedems who say they’re all for equal rights when those equal rights equally allow their wealthy donors to exploit each and every one  of us. Slavery and capitalism are both economic systems. We all know where the money and power is, it’s time to go out and get it before this planet becomes the ultimate hothouse and we all turn orange.

DIE BOOMERS DIE

It’s time for the “Baby Boom” babies to DIE already.

Make no mistake, these are my people. I have lived among these self-centered, pampered, pompous assholes for my entire life, more years than I care to remember.

The vast majority of the boomers sold out long before their bellies no longer fit into their Levis.

Bernie Sanders got clobbered last night. No doubt about that.

But Bernie won among Democratic voters under the age of 50. Right, 50 year olds, not exactly teenagers. He won big among the folks who have waited decades for the Boomers to get off the stage and allow a new generation to sing. But, no, the Boomers still want it all for themselves.

Face it, Boomer Geezers refuse to believe they’re already old and decrepit. They hog all the money and the houses and pay a thousand dollars a ticket to see cadaverous 75 year olds prance around on stage playing hits from 60 years ago, narcissism to the extreme. Boomers think they have the wisdom of age, at the same time believing in their heart they’re 18 years old.

And now they’ve fucked over their children, and their grandchildren, and everyone else who isn’t old enough to get free Medicare like they do. We’ve got ours, FU.

Boom Geezers voted almost 3 to 1 against the interests of those who still have decades left to live if they survive without proper healthcare, and if climate change doesn’t do them in. But the Boomers could give less of a rat’s ass about things like that. They’ll be dead. One can hope.

They voted for a man who helped lead us into that ongoing disaster, the Iraq War. Boomer Geezers voted for a man who up until nine months ago was more than content to let poor women bleed to death in some back alley rather than allow them to control their own bodies.

This from a generation who were supposedly all about “Peace”. Put away all those love beads, you skeletal hippies, we all know now that the “Peace” you wanted was only for yourself.

Boom Geezers want to remain cozy and coddled in their navel gazing cocoons, and the rest of the world, the rest of America, anyone other than themselves, can simply fuck off.

This world may have a chance once these addled Rolling Stone fans eventually decide to shuffle off their mortal coil.  But until then, they will stick around, seemingly forever, and mindlessly destroy anyone or anything that dares interfere with their lethal self-centered buzz.

Take Pride In Your Right to Arm Bears

There are thousands of faceless heroes out there on the Internet and on the airwaves. It’s about time they came forward and claimed the recognition they so justly deserve.

These brave soldiers battle for their and others’ freedoms each and every day. When events occur which will forever justify their labors, they are all too often forgotten while the spotlight shifts to other more easily accessible subjects.

Still they sit at their keyboards, or call in to their radio programs, or attend their rallies. But now things have certainly changed. It’s time for all of you who have worked so hard, to get your own special brand of recognition. It’s time for you to come out and take a bow. It’s time for all American citizens to see who you really are and to appreciate your life’s work.

Step forward and claim your just rewards, all you fighters for easy access to weapons of mass murder. You are truly the unsung heroes of the slaughters in El Paso, Texas, and Dayton, Ohio.

For years you have fought against any law which might have caused the killers the slightest inconvenience in obtaining their instruments of death. “There must be no impediment for mass murderers in obtaining firearms!” you so loudly proclaimed. You cited one section of the Constitution so often that many forgot the rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. All important must be the ability of those chronically deranged to obtain weaponry with the ability to tear through the flesh of their fellow citizens in as rapid a manner as possible.

You are truly those chosen by the Lord. 

Shout it from the rooftops! Put ads on TV! Be a guest of FOX News! Let the world know that you were the ones who helped grease the path for the killers to take so many innocent lives! Let the country know that without you and your constant battle for easy access to weapons of war there quite probably would never have been these massacres! You have stood up for your version of the law, and who cares how many lives have to be snuffed out in the process! El Paso and Dayton only prove your point that America needs guns in the hands of the deranged in order to be safe and free!

Shout it loud that you few, you happy few, you band of brothers, have fought long and hard for the rights of the homicidal to purchase assault weapons so they can rip apart the bodies of children, women, and men as they go about their everyday lives. 

Take pride in how you work for free for those who profit greatly from the manufacture and sale of machines whose sole purpose is to end life.

Your brilliance should be celebrated by the world. Feel no guilt for the many murders you have aided and abetted. Take pride in the blood in the streets. 

You are a true work of genius. 32 bodies were added to your list in recent days. You should feel such pride. Let no court accuse you of depraved indifference.

Where would we all be without patriots like you?

-----------------------------------

AND THEN WE WIN

It’s been a while since I last put pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard, or chisel to rock, but at the moment I think I might have something to say. Usually I try to write about the moral depravity of corporate Democrats, but since Chump has placed his orange ass all over this country, making jokes about those in power has been so easy just about everyone is doing it.

For a change I will not indulge in my dentured biting satire and tell all of you how to finally get Medicare for All passed. 

STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW TO PAY FOR MEDICARE FOR ALL

Theories about how to divvy up money are like assholes, everyone has one and they all stink. Once the Republicans and corporate Democrat hacks start talking about money, you’ve already lost the battle. You’re talking about meaningless economic theories which leads to a Tower of Babel from where you will never return. Leave money out of the conversation.

HERE ARE THE TALKING POINTS TO WIN EVERY MEDICARE FOR ALL DEBATE

#1) BODY COUNT

Approximately 59,000 Americans died during the Vietnam War.
Since 2014, the first full year of the Affordable Care Act, until now, academic studies have estimated that between 90,000 and 200,000 Americans have died from a lack of health insurance or from inadequate health insurance.
So, in the last five years almost two to four times as many Americans died from the for-profit insurance industry as Americans died in Vietnam.
Medicare for All would have prevented all the deaths from these causes.

#2) GUILT

If you oppose, or do not fully support, Medicare for All, you must bear your share of responsibility for those Americans who will die because they remain uninsured or under insured. Approximately 30,000 of your fellow citizens will die this year and all following years for these reasons. 
If you oppose Medicare for All you must bear responsibility for your words and actions.
Medicare for All will bring to virtually zero the number of these preventable deaths.

#3) WHAT’S THE PROBLEM?

The problem isn't paying for Medicare for All, the problem is 30,000 Americans needlessly die each year because we don't have it.

#4) DO YOU KISS YOUR MOTHER WITH THAT MOUTH?

What kind of a human being are you if you let 30,000 Americans die each year rather than support Medicare for All?

#5) YOU ARE GUILTY AS SIN AND YOUR ASS IS GOING TO HELL

In opposing Medicare for All you are actively keeping Medicare for All from preventing the preventable deaths of 30,000 Americans each year. You, and people like you, bear responsibility for these deaths. Hope you have a good night’s sleep.

#6) IF YOU DON’T LIKE WHAT’S ON THE MENU, GO EAT SOMEWHERE ELSE

If you have a better plan for preventing the preventable deaths of 30,000 Americans a year, I'd like to hear it. And how many people will unnecessarily die every year from preventable causes if we go your way?




And that should shut them up but good.

These are the talking points. Go get ‘em, kids. Watch those idiots squirm.

Good morning, campers.

Due to popular demand I’ve made a list of all the shit I think you’ll need in order to make six gallons (about 28 bottles) of really fine Pinot Noir at home. After you’ve made your first batch you’ll realize how easy this game actually is.

I’ve linked to Amazon but if you have a reasonable homebrew shop somewhere close by, you should be able to get all you need from them.

All prices aren’t the cheapest but I used them because I’m inherently lazy and you can shop around yourself if you want to bring the price point of a bottle down from $4 to $3.50.

It looks like the first two cases might run about $200 with initial purchase of equipment but after that the only real cost is the price of the kit. My kits usually run about $85 so 85/27 = $3.15 a bottle. Plus about a dime for the cork.



Wine Kit - Vintner's Reserve - Pinot Noir
https://www.amazon.com/Wine-Kit-Vintners-Reserve-Pinot/dp/B072R3KVHS/ref=sr_1_18?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544240&sr=8-18&keywords=pinot+noir+wine+kit


Bucket Kit, Two White 7 Gallon Buckets with White Gamma Seal Lids
https://www.amazon.com/Bucket-White-Gallon-Buckets-Gamma/dp/B016R2RVRY/ref=sr_1_20?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544404&sr=8-20&keywords=7+gallon+plastic+bucket+food+grade


28 empty wine bottles


Homebrew Airlock Beer Wine Brewing Bubble Fermentation Bung & Bubbler Bucket Air Valve
https://www.amazon.com/Homebrew-Airlock-Brewing-Fermentation-Bubbler/dp/B075NC3D6R/ref=sr_1_14?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544549&sr=8-14&keywords=alcohol+bubbler

Racking cane
https://www.amazon.com/Racking-Cane-inch-inches-long/dp/B000E66A36/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1544544640&sr=8-8&keywords=homebrew+siphon


Tubing
https://www.amazon.com/Learn-Brew-LLC-Grade-Tubing/dp/B000E62TCC/ref=pd_bxgy_328_img_2?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B000E62TCC&pd_rd_r=5e557846-fd5f-11e8-9bd0-c192ba7c048e&pd_rd_w=FZygX&pd_rd_wg=yv8PE&pf_rd_p=6725dbd6-9917-451d-beba-16af7874e407&pf_rd_r=NTKPDH1CZ6H98SC0N7EF&psc=1&refRID=NTKPDH1CZ6H98SC0N7EF

Bottle filler
https://www.amazon.com/Home-Brew-Ohio-H8-PQQ5-T5KB-Bottle/dp/B007VFBLNC/ref=pd_sim_328_5?_encoding=UTF8&pd_rd_i=B007VFBLNC&pd_rd_r=72938197-fd5f-11e8-b8c1-1f0fd5300496&pd_rd_w=nYFlE&pd_rd_wg=rmsGw&pf_rd_p=18bb0b78-4200-49b9-ac91-f141d61a1780&pf_rd_r=699MC06MECK80EAZFKYG&psc=1&refRID=699MC06MECK80EAZFKYG

Bleach or other sanitizer

Corks
https://www.amazon.com/Straight-Corks-15-16-Bag/dp/B07HHCQCGW/ref=sr_1_10?s=industrial&ie=UTF8&qid=1544545130&sr=1-10&keywords=wine+corks


Corker
https://www.amazon.com/Double-Lever-Hand-Corker-Synthetic/dp/B07JB97PT7/ref=sr_1_2_sspa?s=industrial&ie=UTF8&qid=1544545175&sr=1-2-spons&keywords=wine+corker&psc=1

(While your booze is bubbling away, there just might be a discernible aroma.)

There’s No Reason to Vote

The vast majority of eligible voters didn’t vote for Trump. The vast majority of eligible voters didn’t vote for Clinton, either.

40% of possible voters said piss on all of them and sat on their hands.

Now that Hillary is history and the Chump is well on his way to impeachment or resignation, it looks like the citizens who didn’t cast a ballot for either of them are the real winners after all. Bye bye, major party candidates.

There are any number of reasons why eligible American voters don’t bother but there’s one de-motivator which doesn’t receive enough attention.

Way back when, Bill Clinton and his cronies decided on a strategy of shifting the Democratic Party just a little bit farther to the right in order to pick up a handful of Republicans who were turned off by the Bible thumpers and fellow travelers in their party. Who knows? Clinton’s scam might have been good politics for an enlightened Arkansas.

After Bubba defeated Bush the Elder (mostly thanks to a little guy by the name of H. Ross Perot who was also running and shattered the Republican vote), the Clinton brand of corporate liberal Republicanism (we want choice but won’t make it law) suddenly became enshrined by the leaders of the Democratic Party. 


“We won! We won! Corporate Democrats are the way!” 

Well, so far, not so good.

With the exception of Obama (Remember Romneycare?) the Democratic Party has been losing ground at a stunning rate since Clintonism (we’re just a little to the left of George Wallace) took control. 

The Senate. Gone. The House. Gone. Governors. Gone. State Houses. History. 


There have been so many Democratic losses as to make that party’s former power seem but a distant memory.


Here’s a test. Instead of pointing out the slight differences between the two major parties, think about how much their leaders currently have in common. Pro for-profit health insurance. Pro death penalty. Pro Middle East adventurism, and on and on. All financed by Goldman Sachs et al. How Republican of them both.

But, wait a second, it turns out that all of that is not what rank and file Democrats actually support. The majority of Dems want Medicare for All. Most of them, along with most states, could live without the death penalty. Middle Eastern war games? Not so much. And by all means, tax the living shit out of Goldman Sachs.

Real Democrats are so much farther to the left than the party’s Clintonite leadership that it’s almost no, not almost it’s really, really funny.

But, even in the face of so many losses, the Clintonistas still put the blame on others. They couldn’t possibly be wrong. After all, the corporations and the donors give them almost as much money as they give to the Republicans.

Another thought. Instead of constantly losing by chasing the three or four liberals who remain in the Republican Party (Republicans tend to vote for Republicans anyway, you blithering idiots), why not offer Americans a real choice?

Instead of veering right in hopes of luring that loose GOPer, try going the other way. 40% of eligible voters don’t vote. And that’s for Presidential tilts. Lesser elections, lesser percentages. There are more people not voting than voting for either party. 

But the Democratic leadership ignores the forty percent and wrap themselves in Republican Lite robes in hopes of attracting more Wall Street moolah.

It isn’t working, morons.

How many former Democratic voters have stopped pulling the handle because they no longer see enough of a difference between the two parties for them to bother to vote?

Imagine if the Democratic Party actually offered a real choice rather than a faint Republican echo. Imagine if that non-voting 40% was actually presented with a stark difference. No longer Trump versus Trump-lite. No longer massive health insurance premiums versus 1% less massive health insurance premiums.


Imagine if the Democratic Party ran candidates who actually represented the views of actual Democrats. Maybe a small fraction of that 40% might be inspired enough to vacate their Barcaloungers. If Democrats could actually show that “they’re all the same” no longer applies, it might just motivate a few of the fallen. If Democrats could attract just a few of the non-voters, instead of chasing the white whale swing Republican, perhaps the losses might stop. Imagine if the Democrats could get a mere 2% out of that dormant 40 to pull the lever in their direction. Things might just become a whole lot different.

Bill Clinton is a most charming man, but he is an idiot. The Clintons and their ilk have just about destroyed the Democratic Party. It’s time for all of them to concede defeat and just go away.

-------------------
.

Beware of Pickpockets!

“Welcome, welcome, you tremendous people! Thank you so much. You are about to witness the most magnificent show conceivable even in the most spectacular parts of your fabulous imaginations!” El Dunno, the world’s most famous organ grinder, reached into his inside pocket and took out a peanut for his monkey.

“Look! Watch his hands. Fascinating!”

While he cranked his organ, and did his spiel, the grinder’s impish primate took the goober from his master’s outstretched digits. He jumped upon his master’s shoulder then dismounted with a full somersault and twist. The chimp skipped into the center of the audience on the crowded sidewalk, doffed his fez, and approached each spectator, seeking donations.

“Isn’t he the cutest thing ever?” “I wish my kid was so talented.” “Do you think a dollar is too much?”

And so days passed. El Dunno, the most fabulously tremendous organ grinder ever to grace the Manhattan streets and his wonder chimp, El Manquee, would delight innocent tourists for up to twenty shows a day. What could be better than free, innocent entertainment? If you wanted to donate a buck or two, well, that was entirely up to you.

And so it went for eight years. Until they were replaced by a different grinder and monkey.

A few years later, on the occasion of his retirement from the rackets, Phil the Dip came clean about the whole El Dunno setup.

“You have no idea how hard it is to find a grinder who’s up to the part. You know, people think the act is the chimp, but it’s the grinder. All the time he’s cranking that organ and the monkey’s working the crowd, the grinder keeps the audience occupied with whatever nonsense pops into his noggin at the moment.

“When the chimp, El Manquee, is panhandling the tourists, El Dunno rambles on about how Santa Claus is an illegal alien. Or how every white boy in this country can grow up to be a billionaire. Or even, this is my favorite, how folks who have less than you are responsible for causing all of your problems. Including hemorrhoids or your daughter’s inability to date anyone other than a minority. The trick is to get the marks minds into a primitive haze where they are only vaguely paying attention to what’s going on around them.

“All the tourists would be lulled by El Manquee passing the fez and El Dunno chattering on and on about how life’s problems can be so simply solved.

“I ran a small crew back then.


“With so few people paying cash these days, folks tend to forget about pickpockets. Let me tell you, it’s not as easy now as it was when I started. Cash was king then, but if you know what you’re doing, you still can make a living.” Phil the Dip enjoyed talking about his former profession.

“Anyone who can create a distraction like El Dunno did is worth their weight in diamonds. I used two of my crew to fleece the crowd and a third for the drop. Tourists usually carry more cash than the average schmuck. People forget credit cards and cell phones bring a good price as well.  


“The marks couldn’t take their eyes off of El Dunno and his monkey tricks. They didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention while we robbed them blind.


“I don’t know what El Dunno is doing these days. I know the monkey died. With a spiel like his, he might have gotten into politics.”

----------------

Pro-Obamacare Demonstration Outside White House

“This was today’s headline, ‘Healthcare Advocates Demonstrate Outside White House Demanding Obamacare Be Expanded.’ Following a protest outside the White House today, we had a chance to sit down with one of the organizers. This spokesperson agreed to our interview only under conditions of complete anonymity. We agreed to his request. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

“You are most certainly welcome. We just want to reassure you that our viewers will only be seeing a vague outline on their screens and your voice is being electronically altered so that it will be entirely unrecognizable.”

“I appreciate your efforts.”

“So, there were a few hundred representatives of your organization marching outside of the White House today. What message were they attempting to deliver to President Trump?”

“Well, Charlie, as I’m sure you know, the demonstration in Washington was all about Obamacare and why it should be kept in place. We’re hoping to convince President Trump and the rest of the Republicans just how much it would hurt the health insurance business if Obamacare were to be repealed.”

“But aren’t the insurance companies you represent complaining about how much money they’re losing? I mean every day we read about companies withdrawing from the exchanges? What about that?”

“Charlie, Charlie, Charlie, what business person in their right mind would ever say they’re making too much money? If you want to raise consumer prices, anyone savvy about business will always complain they’re not making enough money. I mean, come on, Charlie.”

“And the companies withdrawing from the health insurance exchanges?”

“There really isn’t any need for more than a single insurer to be on any individual exchange. When one organization withdraws from one market, you’ll see a complimentary withdrawal on a different exchange. Some might call this monopolistic; we prefer to call it efficient.”

“But why the need for this demonstration now?”

“Obamacare has a long history. Even when this program was first called Romneycare, Republicans have had to travel down a very narrow road. You have to realize, Charlie, that Obamacare is the largest raid on the U.S. Treasury ever made. When the Affordable Care Act was signed, the health insurance companies were basically given a blank check to charge as much as they wanted along with millions of new customers who were being forced to buy their product. As long as the consumer had no idea how much the Federal government was being charged, they really didn’t care what the costs were. As long as enough Republicans and Democrats were in our pockets, they didn’t care either. We’re probably talking trillions over the next decade.”

“But what about all those who couldn’t get insurance before Obamacare?”

“Charlie, that was the finest brand of snake oil ever sold. Even before Obamacare, everyone could buy health insurance. For a price. The price for those with situations like pre-existing conditions was exorbitant. Out of the reach of almost all individuals. All Obamacare did was shift that cost to the Federal government. The insurance was still out of control expensive but the consumer never saw the bill. Big checks were sent to the insurance companies along with millions of new customers. There were absolutely no cost controls. We were in pig heaven.”

“And now with Republicans threatening to repeal Obamacare?”

“Grass roots Republicans are demanding the repeal. It’s like a fever. It took a very long time to convince Democrats that Obamacare/Romneycare was actually a Democratic program. Unfortunately, along with that, a lot of Republicans seem to have forgotten that it’s actually a Republican program. Those folks were out there today to remind them.”

“And your prognosis for the future?”

“Charlie, the health insurance companies I represent are fairly certain Obamacare will remain. There’s far too much money being made for the entire program to disappear. We’ve just sent a few hundred of our interns out to the White House today to remind everyone who’s writing the checks.”

“So today was a gentle nudge?”

“Yes, indeed it was, Charlie. They can call it Obamacare. They can call it Romneycare. They can call it Trumpcare in big, gold letters. We don’t care as long as they don’t cutoff our pipeline to the Treasury. Wake up, Republicans. We’re the ones who send you all your money.”

“Well, that pretty much says it all. Thank you for being here. And thanks to all of you for watching. Goodnight.”


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Big Pharma Will Kick Donnie’s Wimpy Ass

Jimmie the Jerk was having a hell of night the other day at P.J. Clarke’s barroom.

Now that the initial shock was over, it was time to find out exactly how small Donald Trump’s digits really are. At least according to J the J. The folks at the bar were listening.

“They’ve promised Donnie the Dim the reins of power. For this New York minute, he’s lost somewhere up in the clouds, but the first time he tries to dick in one of his big campaign promises, he’ll be smashed down to reality by the real BigBoys. We’ll show him just how powerless  limp dicks like him really are. They’ll rub his nose in their shit and make wee Donnie smile and thank them for it.”

Jerry the Jerk is a vice-vice-president at a multi-global pharmaceutical monolith which currently charges America’s people one hundred times the price they charge citizens of other industrialized nations for the exact same scripts. These are the real drug pushers who control the street. J the J is one of the guys in charge of making sure chumps like Trump don’t rock the boat.

He explained to the room exactly how it would work.

“We’ll all go sit with him in some dumpy, second-rate D.C. conference room. He’ll do his song and dance about how we have to lower our prices for the good of the American people, and how he’ll conduct the negotiations. He’ll spit out almost sentences for fifteen minutes or less. We’ll nod, look serious, or smile, depending on whatever. Then he’ll leave. We’ll cut a couple of checks to Priebus and the other boys, and that will be that. And we’ll keep charging whatever the hell we feel like charging. Life or death, kids. Pay or die. We own this country.”

That sounded kind of harsh to a lot of the folks at the bar.

“We cut off the Trumpette’s balls years ago. You don’t get to operate the way little punks like Donnie do without our friends and investors controlling all the operating funds. Putzes like Chump and the gunsels that surround him lick our asses and drop their pants whenever we want them to.”

How do you do it? You can’t intimidate the President. The patrons needed to know.

You don’t call the President of the United States a punk.

“If a chump like Trump thinks he’s enough of a man to take on the drug companies, well, we’ll just have to show the whole world that the sign on his building shouldn’t read “Trump”. Change it to read, “He’s Our Bitch”. That would be a whole lot more of truth in advertising.”

Everybody drank.

“Little Donnie Boy isn’t going to tell Big Pharma where to get off. Trumpette will just keep being another punk in the prison shower room bending over to pick up the soap.




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Any Third Party Vote is a Vote for Hillary Clinton.

Buddy boy, don’t you get it? This isn’t the year to cast a “protest” vote. If you don’t vote for Trump you’re really voting for Hillary.

Huh?

Listen, kid, you just don’t know how all this works, do you? I know you pretty much think neither Clinton2 nor the Trumpster should be controlling the White House joy stick. Am I right or am I right?

I guess so.

You don’t want to vote for someone who helped bomb the shit out of the Middle East or somebody who you don’t know if they’ll blow up the whole world either. The Big H has the track record as a killer and Trumpy only has the potential. Right?

Sure. But....

Listen, pally, is it the American way to convict somebody of a crime even before they commit it? Or do we only punish those who’ve already voted to kill hundreds of thousands of Iraqi women?

Well, so far Mr. Trump has only been stupid talk.

Exactamundo! Only ridiculous chatter. You know whatever he says is meaningless. You also know that he knows he’s bullshitting. It’s a game to him. On the other hand Clinton2 pretends it isn’t a game. He lies and winks. She lies and pretends it’s the Lord’s own truth.

I don’t know about that.

Of course you do, kiddo. You’re for Medicare for All, right? Well the Trumpster has been for that. At one time or another. The Hillary wants to keep that Obamacare farce going.

It’s not like he wants socialized medicine though.

You opposed the Iraq War, right? You know the Big Guy was at one time against it too. Clinton2 said she made a mistake. Maybe a couple of million died with the help of her vote and she says she made a mistake. Big whoop. Trumpy, he’s more flexible.

Well, that’s sort of true.

Kid, you know this isn’t an election where you can vote for a minority party. This might be the most critical election ever. You know you don’t want that Hillary in office.

She does support the death penalty when she feels like it. And she likes fracking too.

My brother, look at what they did to your Bernie.

You’re right about that. But the Republicans aren’t any better.

Now that even the Bush family is voting for Hillary Clinton, I mean, what more can I say? Do you support the whole Bush agenda? Don’t you think the first thing Clinton2 will do is give Jeb! a cabinet position? You don’t think Papa Bush said he was voting Democrat for the first time in his life without getting something in return? This is still politics, buddy boy. Imagine Jeb! as Secretary of State.

True. There must have been some sort of deal there.

Citizen, at least the Trumpster is straight about being corrupt.

That’s sort of the reason I’m thinking of voting for a third party candidate.

Patriotic American, wait until after the election and mobilize then. Trump can be reined in by a unified Democratic Congress. Remember the most important thing is to keep a war monger like Hillary Clinton out of the White House. It’s the known evil versus the unknown evil.

You’ve given me a lot to think about. Fortunately, there’s a little time left.

Pal of mine, just remember, any third party vote is a vote for Hillary Clinton to be the next President of these United States. And you know nobody wants that to happen.

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Greatest Generation Remix

I’m voting for her because she’s a woman.

I’m voting for him because he’s black.

I’m voting for him because he’s white.

I’m voting for her because I’m afraid of him.

I’m voting for him because I’m afraid of her.

I’m voting for him/her because they are going to win/win.

This country is based on representative government.(Surprise!) Putting personnel peccadillos aside for the moment (You stinking, thieving, lying, amoral, son-of-a-bitch), citizens should base their choice of candidate to support on the person/party that best represents the way that citizen believes this government should be administered. A fairly simple concept, vote for the person who thinks the way you do about most things. 

For decades and decades Democrats have used the fear of anti-choice Supreme Court justices to scare the shit out of rational American voters each time a Presidential election rolls around. And when they do achieve power, Democratic leaders sit on their hands and do nothing to legislate a solution to this particular problem. 

Every four years Republicans exploit centuries of racist distrust and convince white flight voters that unless they support the bosses, rampaging hordes of Africans will descend upon their suburban castles and transport their barbecue equipment back to the inner cities. After the polls close, Republicans do their best to forget that human beings still exist and go back to serving their corporate masters.

Of course there are numerous other minor bones of contention between the two mega-parties, but these two, choice and race, have been the bread and butter for generations of inbred Democratic and Republican political operatives, at least since Lyndon Johnson decided to toss in the towel.

Now we are left with this.

The Democratic Party has been taken over by what was once the moderate wing of the Republican Party. It is as if Bob Dole has put on a dress, decided to come out publicly as being pro-choice, and is pretending to be Bill Clinton’s wife. Other than that, and some serious military service, how can anyone differentiate between the 1996 Republican candidate and the 2016 Democratic model? Thank Odin that Henry Kissinger is still around to advise on where to invade next.

With all the Republican closet Clinton supporters now coming out in the open to support Clinton2, the Republican Party is simply left with a racist buffoon. For all practical purposes the Republican Party has ceased to exist. All the somewhat sane Republicans are now pro-choice, pro-war, pro-corporate, Republican/Democrats donating their money and time to the Hillary-Bill-Chelsea Clinton Democratic Party/Clinton Foundation/Goldman Sachs Savings and Loan. 

Once past the six or so reasons for stupidly supporting a candidate mentioned at the beginning of this article, the informed citizen is left with only one choice and one choice only. To the best of my knowledge Bob Dole is still breathing. Why support Clinton2 who at best is a pale imitation of the former Republican candidate? 

Vote for Bob Dole!

After all, Clinton2 and the other bozo have no idea what it’s like to lose a limb for this country. 

I might just vote for Bob Dole. At least he has experienced the horrors.

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Little Timmy Is Upset He’s a Racist Executioner

“Why are you crying, Little Timmy?”

“I had to do it. I’m upset”

“Now, now, Little Timmy. You know you didn’t have to execute those eleven defenseless prisoners. You really can’t say you were forced to do it.”

“But if I didn’t kill them, the people of Virginia would think I was weak and might not like me anymore.”

“Timmy, you spared one prisoner scheduled for execution, so everybody knows you had the power to stop them all.”

“Now you’re making me upset all over again.”

“Timmy, you know capital punishment is barbaric and a human rights violation, but you let the executions proceed anyway.”

“I’ve said that killing prisoners is a bad thing many times. Isn’t that enough?”

“Now, Timmy, just because you say one thing, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to do the exact opposite. You know capital punishment in the United States is an abomination. Yet you executed six black prisoners. Six out of a total of eleven executions means you are carrying out a racist policy. Your saying you’re sorry is like when the axeman asks the person he’s about to behead for forgiveness. It really doesn’t mean anything.”

“But I say I’m opposed to racism.”

“Little Timmy, don’t you know that your words don’t mean anything when you do the bad thing anyway? You can’t say you don’t like killing puppies while at the same time you’re killing puppies. You can’t say I hate killing defenseless people while you’re killing defenseless people.”

“You mean you don’t believe me when I say I’m opposed to capital punishment?”

“Little Timmy, don’t you know that your actions speak much louder than your words? If you say you’re against something and then kill eleven people, well, just by your actions you’re calling yourself a liar. And adding to the fact that you proportionately killed so many black Americans, well, I can’t imagine how anyone with a rational mind can believe anything you have to say on the subject.”

“The Clintons like me. Isn’t that enough?”

“Well, Little Timmy, Hillary Clinton says she supports capital punishment when the people being killed are the ones she thinks should be killed. And some of us remember how when Billy Clinton was running for President he raced back to Arkansas for the execution of a mentally damaged black man. People like that will probably forgive your two-faced bullshit when it comes to committing racist human rights violations. But with those people who don’t support racism and capital punishment, you might not find a great deal of support.”

“But I’m still better than Donald Trump.”

“I’m sorry, Little Timmy, but I can think of eleven families who probably don’t believe that. It’s one thing to present yourself as a vicious, cruel animal and actually be one. It’s another to say you’re opposed to a human rights violation and commit it eleven times. Donald Trump might eventually get blood on his hands, but you’re swimming in it.

“Besides, being better than Donald Trump is such an extremely low bar even the rest of the kids in your class will probably laugh you out of the room.”

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If You're a Misanthrope, Are You a Misogynist?

Let’s get some terms straightened out. If you’re a misanthrope, you pretty much hate humanity in general. Women, children, men, you despise them all. You can still hate everyone and have exceptions for your own family and puppy dog, but you’re probably more than willing to press the button and vaporize millions. Frankly, you don’t give a shit about anyone other than you and your own.

What’s a misogynist? Misogyny is a sub-category of misanthropy but focuses its hatred on women. In other words, if you’re a misanthrope you’re pretty much a misogynist as well. But if you’re a misogynist you are not necessarily a misanthrope. (Even if you probably are, but that’s another matter.)

War should be considered the ultimate manifestation of misanthropy. Those who facilitate the mass exterminations of human beings which constitute modern day warfare must be considered to be at the pinnacle of human hatred. War is as misanthropic as it gets.

If you assist in the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of women should you be considered a misogynist? After all, if you’re a young woman lying dead in a ditch, being pro-choice is hardly relevant. If a drone fires a rocket into your house, you don’t care if the ceiling is wood or glass as it collapses and kills you and your children. You don’t care if you have equal opportunity for a job when your village has been brought to rubble by foreign military forces.

If you aid and abet war, does this make you a misogynist? It certainly makes you a misanthrope, and since misogyny is a sub-category of misanthropy, you bet it makes you a misogynist. Hundreds of thousands of women died because of this century’s Iraq War. Those who supported that war are responsible for the denial to these women of their most basic human right, the right to life. These misanthropes snuffed out untold numbers of women. The pinnacle of misogyny is killing women.

There you have it. If killing women doesn’t make you misogynist, what the hell does? What does killing hundreds of thousands of women make you?

This is where we now are. It appears the American people will soon be able to choose between two misogynists promoted by the two major parties. One partially responsible for the death of hundreds of thousands of women and another who will do and say anything to attract votes.

Of course there are other parties fielding nominees if you don’t care to cast a vote for a misogynist.

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The Goldman Sachs Samaritan

A three year-old SUV blows a tire, skids into the break down lane, then flips over twice. Its four passengers are smothered in air bags. Then there is silence.

A driver who’d witnessed the entire incident from a hundred yards behind, pulls over, checks out the situation, shrugs, then gets back on the highway and drives away. He is late for a speech he is scheduled to deliver on “Living Well is the Be All and End All.”

A second motorist, on the opposite side of the road, pulls over as well. Observing the accident scene and the first driver’s actions, she also pulls back on the highway, certain that events will work themselves out without any assistance on her part.

Then a third driver arrives. She maneuvers her vehicle as close to the accident scene as seems prudent. She is the Goldman Sachs Samaritan,

Knowing every crisis is an opportunity, the Goldman Sachs Samaritan’s first call is to her lawyer. Following a brief conversation regarding potential liability (during which the Goldman Sachs Samaritan’s lawyer dispatches a junior associate to the accident scene), the GSS formulates a plan which in the long run should both benefit not only herself but, if lucky, the accident victims as well. The GSS’s second call is to a private ambulance company three towns away in which the GSS holds a minority interest. She is assured an ambulance will be dispatched to the scene as soon as one becomes available and the accident victims will be transported to a for-profit hospital in the next county where the GSS sits on the board-of-directors.

The GSS looks up from her phone and notes the steady puffs of smoke emanating from the unfortunate vehicle in the ditch.

Another short call to a tame local newspaper reporter will lead to proper documentation of her heroic act. Nothing like some free publicity to promote the GSS’s businesses and the political causes she espousers.

The Goldman Sachs Samaritan visualizes how, after the private ambulance and press arrive, she will be photographed pulling the accident victim from their car. The ambulance service’s logo will be prominently displayed as she delivers the unfortunates into the caring hands of the private medical system representatives. You can’t buy advertising like that. She closes her eyes to rest, awaiting her fellow team members’ arrival.


While the GSS is getting her ducks in a row, “Crisis Can Be A Profit Center Too!”, a battered Toyota pulls in behind her. The mature woman behind the wheel also assesses the situation and immediately calls 911. The emergency operator assures her an ambulance, police, and other appropriate first responders will soon arrive on the scene. This Socialist Samaritan makes her way down to the overturned vehicle and helps the bruised passengers out of their vehicle, just as puffs of smoke begin appearing above the engine.

As the county ambulance, police and tow truck drive away from the accident scene, the Goldman Sachs Samaritan is awakened by the sound of someone rapping on her window. She looks about and wonders where the crashed car and its people have gone. The private ambulance driver and the tame reporter are both screaming at the GSS about her sending them out here for no good reason. The Goldman Sachs Samaritan screams back.

This only goes to show how no good deals go unpunished.

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What You Wish For

A room that isn’t any larger than 10 feet square. Two metal folding chairs face one another. Acoustical tile ceiling. Windowless. One door. Might have been a storage closet in some previous incarnation but found its true vocation being what it is now: a minor interrogation room for those whose assumed intelligence remains of dubious import.

Jeremy’s interrogator does not lift his eyes as the prisoner is escorted to his seat. The interrogator is a pale man in his late forties or early fifties. Short gray black hair receding a good way back on his scalp. Clean shaven. In process of flicking his cigarette into a paper cup on the floor beside a chair leg. Beige chinos and a red short sleeve golf shirt. He easily could be a manager for any big box store in any mall anywhere in the United States. 

Jeremy sits and waits. His interrogator consults memos attached to his clipboard. He lights another cigarette. Disposable lighter. Black. Brown filter on white cigarette tube. Yellowish, not perfectly aligned large teeth.

“Cigarette?” Right handed. Stubby digits. Good deal of hair on fingers and back of hand as well as on wrist.

Jeremy has been trained to notice things. Little things. Big things. He wishes he’d taken courses in identifying American regional accents. His interrogator sounds like every television newsreader. Could be from anywhere. Wait for more data.

“No, thank you.” No reason to let your opponent set the agenda. Begin the interrogation yourself. “Why am I here?” Jeremy doesn’t have many tools at hand.

Flipping through a few more papers, the inquisitor points his cigarette at Jeremy and finally raises his eyes to the man opposite him. “You thought you won, didn’t you?”

Although Jeremy didn’t know the accent, he certainly recognizes the tone. It was the voice of an eventual winner who, after suffering a temporary loss, has come back even stronger than before to teach the peasants an unforgettable lesson.

What had been an overwhelming victory suddenly became a crushing defeat. This is America. Change is supposed to come through the vote. When the people speak and elect their representatives, their choices are to be accepted. None of them expected what happened once Bernie actually won. The man who’d been elected President had promised a revolution. He’d delivered a victory but the counter-revolution was something nobody anticipated. 

“In case you’re wondering, we have no interest in any of your contacts, or in anything you can tell us, for that matter. You being here is simply routine. Nothing else.”

Jeremy thought his more vocal opinions probably contributed to his ending up here. They hadn’t anticipated the coup. Nobody on his side had fully appreciated how deeply entrenched the corporations had become within the military. Only a few days after the election results were certified, before Bernie could take the oath of office, the incumbent declared martial law, nullifying the election and Bernie was soon behind bars. The corporate military was now slowly rounding up his more vocal supporters.

Another terrorist plot against free market capitalism had been thwarted. Jeremy is learning the new drill.

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