Take a look at the Nineteen-Nineties. Clinton, try as he might, had no way to stifle the dot.com prosperity, precarious precipice that it was. (Not that he would have wanted to, but…hey! Outta his control)
Wally-World, et al, took that bull (my pun) by the horns and killed the messenger. (Oh! And the simple fact that the 1920’s had no intrinsic value, historically squeaking, that is.) And the other simple fact that all good deeds go punish’d. And the other simple fact that America, MY America always… well, never mind.
He dreamed of the ‘Great Society’ almost made it, save for that little problem in Southeast Asia. (He coulda been a contender, instead of a bum)
(Brando Warning Here!)
Nuff said: We have now come to the era of “Not-So-Great-Presidents.”
They mean nothing, vis-à-vis, The World Order.
They have been reduced to fodder.
Fodder for CNN, Fox, SNL, and The ‘Honey Grove Senile Citizen’ (my hometown rag)
Why not Trump? I mean, with no mean meaning, why not? He will entertain. He will give CNN, Fox, et al, something to pontificate over (“Never end a sentence with a preposition Lance”—sorry—my bad)
I love The Donald: he has made an uninteresting (for news junkies) year…
And I do love funny.
Merry Christmas and see you at the voting booth (I will be that embarrassing uncle in the back with a scotch in his hand and a Marlboro in his lips—pontificating about ‘LBJ’, The Great Society, and wearing the Nixon-Now-More-Than-Ever…T-Shirt.
And saying, ad nausea: “I told you so…”
Shamelessly, I just finished re-reading “Grapes of Wrath” or… in other words: I am with Bernie Sanders on this Deal Folks.
And never forget this:
Or this, regarding ‘Third-Party-Politics” (for those of you astute in The American Political Prophesy):
And, Yes, Virginia: Trump is a “Ring-Tail-Tooter.”
It is when you go to flush the toilet and that handle snarls back at you, rather limp-wrist’d, as if to say,
“Not tonight Asshole. Go back to sleep.”
(Now, in some truth, I could probably improve this post. For example: I should not have referenced ‘limp wrists”. In truth, y’all know how it is when you go to flush that toilet and there just ain’t no resistance. “Limp Wrists’ was just about all I could manage at the time of publishing…. (Isn’t that funny? Like I am a fucking news paper?) Dead-lines!
Some one shoot me!
(Make it quake! Head Shot! Right thru the mouth–or better…the mouse.)
God and some foll’ers will thank you.
Foretelling ‘Foreboding’ (See? I tend to edit as as I go… My father once tole me, “Lance! Enuff! Enough! It takes an editor to be smart; that is why we make more monies.”) some deep sea-toilet trolling (trolling?) diving to fix.
Don’t think so.
(There are three (other) toilets in this ‘Mouse-House’)
“So, fuck off.”
(My toilet did not reply)
Yes, I talk to my toilet… don’t we all?
“Take your hand off that mouse Mister! Don’t make me come over there.”
“Yessir! Please don’t shoot me; I’m just the piano-player.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me. What do you think, Jim?”
“Yeah. Bullshit. Shoot him.”
(Sorry, Si Robertson; some of this … this is probably out-of-context)
We will not even begin to speak about your brother.
Damnit! I miss Christopher Hitchens!
Even more embarrassing:
You know the toilet is broke dick dog.
You still try to ‘visit.’
And it takes three tries to get into the door.
(Yet, it is a really small door–just sayin’– and not so easily navigated, drunk nor sober)
Only to be so disappointed (yet again) over the the whole toilet experience.
Below, please discover Lenny’s take on toilet-training.
(and of course: entertaining, or reasonable facsimile)