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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