The Russian is coming … The Russian is coming!

Hooray for our current White House “Orange-Toddler-in-Residence.”

He’s unleashed yet another sex-politics-guns-threats, and “tricks-for-treats” sex-capade from the political slime swamp he calls his presidency.

Before the FBI’s through with this secret agent sex adventure, ‘45 may wish he had stuck with this not so simple Helsinki riddle …

“How much would, would a Would-Trump chuck, if a Would-Trump would chuck would … or wouldn’t?”


A week ago Mariia Butina … a sexually trained Russian agent aka “The Red Sparrow”… was unknown.

Unless you’re in the FBI … a Republican operative … a congressman … ranking member of the NRA … spokesperson for the Evangelical Movement … a member of Trump’s campaign team … a conservative radio host, columnist, blogger … or anyone with information to trade for a scramble-in-the-sheets.

She was destined to be America’s next great sex obsession … picking-up after Stormy Daniels stormed the West Wing and our capitol’s inner-sanctum!

That was before the FBI dropped on her like a bloated sack of Rooski kaka … now Mariia and her cute “Butt-inski’s” locked up nice and tight.


She’s a 4.0 Master’s Degree graduate … in “International Relations.”  You can’t make this s**t up!

According to her FBI indictment, her international relations included screwing her way into the Evangelical Movement and gaining invitations to not one, but two National Prayer Breakfasts … prime political connection platforms for wanna-be foreign agents.

She also repeatedly thrust herself on high ranking NRA officials claiming she was a “Russian Gun Right’s Activist.”  They must’ve been thinking with their “one-eyed-brains” … since they failed to comprehend there are no gun rights in Russia … unless you’re in the military or FSB.

She banged into her U.S. operation with “U.S. Person 1” … Paul Erickson, described in her indictment as a South Dakota “GOP political operative.”


Maybe Erickson wasn’t the best choice for her planned takeover of the NRA and the Trump West Wing.

His political activism reads like a MAD Magazine article … including a stint as “media adviser” for the infamous John Wayne “Almost-Dickless” Bobbitt … another American household name.

Erickson’s kinda the laughing stock of South Dakota … where there’s allegedly more stock than humans.  Dakotans describe him as a taller and physically less appealing Leonardo DiCaprio … the scam artist in “Catch Me if You Can.”

Law suits piled up against Erickson read like a poor man’s list of Bernie Madoff ripped-off, pissed-off investors.


Mariia may have a 4.0 GPA from George Washington University … she may have a degree in International Relations … but she sure doesn’t have it when it comes to choosing her male door openers into U.S. politics.

Just sayin’ …

Going Whole Hog

We’re at war!  And … Uncle Don needs you … yes you … and you … he needs all of us!

Hop on the patriotic band wagon … come to the defense of America’s pig farmers.

Grab your bright red MAGA hat and head to your supermarket … deli … hotdog stand … WaWa … rib joint … wherever pig meat’s sold!

Open up those wallets and dig deep.  We’ve gotta go “Whole Hog!”

We’re in a “Trade War” with arch trade enemy, China … “The Hog Wars of 2018!”


Pass the bacon … the spare ribs … the ham … the chops and the loin.  I’ll do my patriotic duty … no bone spurs here.

I’m on the front lines … chomping down on those fatty morsels of artery cloggers!

But the Chinese have far more “refined tastes” when it comes to specialty pork products.

They buy all the parts of the damn hog that most of us wouldn’t touch if we were in terminal stages of starvation.

We don’t eat the “whole hog” … we eat “higher on the hog” … while it’s clear that the Chinese eat “lower on the hog!”

We do a “Reverse Michelle Obama” on ‘em. “We go high … they go low!”


To make sure we eat our way through this war, our Fearless Leader along with Cabinet Commerce Secretary and nearly-dead-man, Wilbur Ross demand that all pet food outlets triple their orders for pig’s ears.

All redneck biker bars are commanded to increase the available space for pickled pig’s feet by 400% … look for bars jammed with jars of oinker knucklers!

Wilbur says, “To Hell with those froo-froo umbrella drinks!  Go red, white and blue!  Dump a knuckle in every brew!”

Erectile dysfunction docs have already tripled their prescriptions for dried boar penis jerky … reportedly the #1 source for increasing male testosterone!

Boar’s Head corporate headquarters stated that deli’s across America will be stocked with their latest line of deli meat … Pickled Pig Head Bologna … in five scrumptious flavors!

“Eat More Pig” rallies will be the heart of ‘45’s mid-term campaign stops across America.

It’ll be a sea of red caps … “MAGA – Eat the Whole Hog!”


We all need to do our part with pig parts … we must go boldly where we’ve never gone before … “Pig Parts, the Final Frontier!”

This is war!

Just sayin’ …

Beauty … not what it seems

Blame it all on Phineas T. Barnum.  He held the first modern beauty pageant in 1854.

Though public outrage forced Barnum’s sideshow pageant to close down, beauty pageants have continued to pop up their vexatious little voyeuristic heads … providing profits for men.

And ample opportunities as outlets for male puerile behavior to ogle eye-candy and grope, fondle, handle, hug, and grab ‘em by the “whatevers” … all in the name of big bucks!


There’s one thing that’s brought dramatic change to beauty pageants … and

it’s not the “Talent” portion of the show!

It’s modern surgery … which has blurred the lines of “the natural beauty” of the contestants.

“Barnum’s Babes” didn’t go in for body sculpting, nips and tucks, or plastic surgery … all of which are commonplace today.

Today’s contestants are “store-bought-bust-out-retail” models displaying their surgeons deft hand skills or advanced robotic skills … led by Venezuela which boasts more pageant winners than any other country … six Miss Universe titles, six Miss Internationals and six Miss Worlds.


If it’s beauty pageant “role reversal” you want, take a hike to Niger … after the rainy season.

That’s when the men of the Saharan nomadic Wodaabe Tribe spend days parading in front of the tribal women vying to be among the “chosen.”

This is more than a beauty contest … this is annual preparation for “mate selection!”  And the women are the judges!

Women have all the power when it comes to sex in the Wodaabe tribe … talk about “performance anxiety!”


Jump to the animal kingdom … specifically camels … surely one of the ugliest animals on earth.

In Saudi Arabia the annual King Abdulaziz Camel Festival commands huge financial prizes for the “Most Beautiful Camel” … and it’s rife with physical and surgical enhancements to the competing camels.

What?  People actually try to make a camel “better looking?”

Apparently the tilt of the beast’s ears, the size of its nose and poutiness of lips are primary factors in judging the “beauty-in-the-beast.”

Enter Botox and nip-and-tuck procedures … both of which are illegal in this pageant.  Is nothing sacred?

And now we have a scandal ridden camel beauty pageant … where 12 camels and owners were disqualified last year.


My guess is trying to make a camel cute started with that cutesy provocative cartoonish ad featuring “Joe Camel” promoting Camel cigarettes.

That was one alluring camel!

But … just like PT Barnum’s Babes … “public outrage” also ended Joe Camel’s short reign of beauty … which makes me think that there are times when “s**t happens for a reason.”

Just sayin’ …

I’m Glad I’m a Guy … Human Type

There are times when I’m really glad I’m a guy … a human guy!

George M. Cohan, told us that “The birds do it … bees do it … even educated fleas do it.”

It’s true … every morning I stroll along the shores and boardwalk of Lake Dora, one of the larger lakes in Central Florida.

I refer to it as the “Gators’ Single Bar”  ‘cause the gators are out in force … sunning, strutting, bellowing … and occasionally “roughing it up” with one another.

Recently, I walked out our front door and literally stumbled over two wise Bard Owls engaged in a feather flying “love smack down” … right in my driveway!

All this Mother Nature activity, emboldened Seriously Absurd’s “Crack-Love-Research Staff” to look into some of the more strange and absurd humping habits among the species.


The Praying Mantis pays a dear price for his sexual fling.

Mama Mantis subscribes to the idea that “If you bug me enough you’ll get what you deserve.”

Scientific rumor has it that while Joe Mantis is literally losing his head … thanks to the Missus … his sexual fervor is heightened so he’s assured of successfully completing the act.

Whoopie … she gets mantis kids … and he gets dead!


How about exploding genitals.  Exploding genitals?

Yep … in the honeybee hive, only the Drones get to “get it on” with the Queen Bee.  But wait … there’s a price to pay for being one of “the chosen!”

Apparently the successful insemination of the Queen requires that the Drone’s sperm be “locked” into the Queen’s body cavity.  The Drone’s genitals … mainly his penis … explode during the act thus sealing the Queen’s cavity from the competition.

I think we can assume that post-penile-explosion the now “dickless” Drone falls to the wayside … and becomes ant fodder.


Then there’re those kinky porcupines.

The male spots a potential mate and promptly pees all over her … looking for a “go ahead signal” from her!

Okay … scientists explain it away as a “pheromone thing” which helps her determine if he’s “worthy.”

I dunno about you … but that just sounds like a “Trump Moscow Thing” to me!


So I’m glad I’m a human male and don’t have to deal with “off with my head,” an exploding dick, or what would happen to me if I peed all over my mate … all for the sake of “love.”

Just sayin’ …

Devil asks God for a Summit …

Summits are in vogue … everybody wants one … even the Devil … in his case, with God.

Location … heaven …  God at his desk … bright-red-hot-line phone pulsates … destroys God’s moment of Zen … ringtone’s “There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight!”

He presses “Talk” and says, “Whaz-zup, Beelz?” … playing the black hipster this time.

The Devil sighs at God’s little joke.  “We gotta meet.  Call it a ‘Summit’ … or whatever.”


God’s leg’s jiggling a mile-a-minute as he waits impatiently for the Devil.  He picked Altitude Sky Lounge, a rooftop bar in San Diego, based on Yelp reviews.

God likes to support His creations … He thought Yelp was a good one.

In strolls the Devil … sporting a full-length animal fur … anyplace out-of-Hell is freezing to Beelzebub … besides, he loves splash and spectacle when he comes out to play on earth.


The Devil says nothing … sits and glares.  He hates that God can be anyone, anywhere, anytime … and always seems to enjoy Himself … so cool.

“I’ll come right to the point GD” … the Devil always refers to God as “GD” … as in God Damn … which he loves because when God damns someone, it’s another one way ticket punched for Hell.

“I need more space.

“The way things’re going on earth, we can’t keep up.  I’ve got a crisis on my hands down there.  You gotta create about 25% more space for me just for the current US government.”


“C’mon, Beelz … you can’t be that close to capacity.  I know it seems a bit out of hand now, but don’t you think Mueller’s gonna make a dent in things?  And we’ve got the midterms coming up.  Give it a little more time.”

“Are you crazy, Old Man?  At the rate Mueller’s going and the GOP’s not going … BTW, I love that baby snatching … Trump’s got some balls don’t he?

“I’m expecting an influx that’ll make border crossings look like a snail parade.

“And these folks are complainers … c’mon.

“Manafort’s already pissy about no sheets for his jail cot … that twerp Pruitt … not to mention that complete A-hole, Corey Lewandowski!

“And I haven’t even gotten to pundits and GOP congressional leaders.

“I really think I’m too old for this shit.”


“Funny you should mention that,” replies God.

“I was just thinking that we might switch you out for some fresh blood … so to speak.

“Someone who’s really despicable … someone like …”

“The 45th President?” interrupts the Devil.

God smiles … “If you’re ready, I think we can snag him.”

The Devil smiles and asks, “How soon?”


Just sayin’ …

Let’s Blame Walt …

The Royal Wedding’s come and gone … and the tabloids already have the Princess pregnant!

In spite of America’s blue collar-ness … lift me up by my own bootstraps-ness … work my way to the top-ness … we seem to have a penchant for believing in princess fairy tales.

And the idea of another American Princess got the crack “Princess Research Team” of Seriously Absurd busy lookin’ for the facts … just the facts!


You might think that American Princesses are rare … but then you’d be wrong.

Prior to Meghan Markel, there have been 11 other real-life-human-American princesses.

We all know about Grace Kelly … but did you know Rita Hayworth was also a “for real princess?”


Thanks to Walt Disney, the creator of the “I’m-A-Fake American-Princess-But-I-May-As-Well-Be-Real” … the total number of “American princesses” is in fact twenty-three.

Walt and his Disney Marketeers brought 11 Disney princesses to life from their celluloid world to reign in the dream world of countless little girls.

His fairytale princesses promoted female stereotypes … they lacked color, ethnic diversity and strength … and were all rescued by their Prince Charming.

Another unintended consequence?  Disney princesses literally did “live happily ever after” … and after.

But the reality is that real princesses often disappoint … plus there’s no guarantee of that “happily ever after” crap.  Our mortal princesses die off … some sooner rather than later.


The Duchess of Sussex, AKA Meghan Markel, is actually America’s 2nd princess of color.

The title of first belongs to “Post-Walt’s” Disney, Tiana, an African-American role model who debuted in 2009 … only 72 short years after Snow White’s American premier in 1937.

So, Black girls aspiring to princess-dom finally have a real-life princess as a role model, the Duchess of Sussex … as well as “The Duchess of Disney,” Tiana.


Though Walt’s campaign to “princess-ize” America remained sparkling white and limited girls to stereotypical roles … the world does and did change.

And fortunately for us, so has Disney’s continued “princess-izing” of American girls.

More recent Disney princesses include women with strong athletic skills, traces of feminism, ethnic diversity (Asian, Black, Native American), and you can add a fierce independence with Princess Merida … the first to not have a “prince” in her life!


Hopefully we can add the British Royal Family to that sea of change … Meghan and Harry definitely plan to leave their stamp on Buckingham Palace.

Now if we could only teach our daughters that real princesses create their own “happily ever afters.”

Just sayin’ …

“High Noon” … a remake?

The Scene …

Manhattan … 5th Avenue … the watches in Tiffany’s, clocks in Bergdorf’s and Abercrombie all read 11:50 AM … approaching twelve P.M.

The “Ballad of High Noon” blasts over speakers strung along the designated block of 5th Avenue.

“Do not forsake me on my darlin’ ….”


Media vans and emergency vehicles line the Avenue … a “yuuge and biggly” crowd sits in makeshift sidewalk grandstands … lottery winners who ponied-up 5G’s to witness.

The press gallery’s jammed with representatives from around the world … only PBS and Telemundo declined.


At one end of 5th, a tall rather orange looking man struts … catching the wind, orangey-blonde-hair-wisps reveal his hidden comb over … squinty eyes peek between face-lifted creases as he stares down his nemesis.

At the other end of the block, a taller, thinner, lanky and relaxed man stands … arms loosely dropped at his side.

His eyes cold and blue … fixed on the pacing bloater … relaxed in the knowledge that he’s been trained in the use of his trusty Glock-9.


“Unfair,” yells L’Orange.  “Unfair.”

Glancing down at his spanking clean oil-glistened NRA issue AR15 clenched in itty-bitty hands, he bellows, “I don’t know how to use this thing!”

“They didn’t teach you how to fire a weapon in your ‘military school?’  Maybe you shoulda signed up for the FBI … weapons training’s mandatory,” says the Lanky One, a trace of a smile on his face as he strides forward … closing the gap between them.

“Also negotiating … required training … wanna try talking your way outta this?  Rudy and Cohen still on your speed dial?

“Lordy … I’d say you’re in a pickle … I’ll let you go first … go ahead.”


L’Orange whips the AR15 to his waist and yanks the trigger.

In 45 seconds 100 rounds of 5.56 NATO hollow points strafe the street … dust, asphalt and cement chunks leap into the air … windows blow out from the stores on 5th Avenue … media vans and emergency vehicles’re riddled … smoking and hissing.

Finger locked on the trigger … L’Orange hears nothing but click-click-click.

As the dust settles two reporters, a TV cameraman, three cable news pundits and sundry GOP ticket holders are victims … just collateral damage.

An unscathed slow moving silent silhouette continues forward.


The crowd’s still …  cameras rolling.

A shot’s chambered with an ominous click of a Glock-9.

Slowly the Lanky One raises his arm … aims and gently rests his finger on the Glock’s trigger … the front of L’Orange’s cammo pants suddenly darken … totally soaked as a round strikes the pavement inches from his combat boots.

The Lanky One smiles … pivots … waves to the crowd and exits …

Just dreamin’ …

She’s Baaaack …

Roseanne’s gone.

But, never underestimate the power of money and greed filling the troughs of media capitalists.   Her critically acclaimed TV series may continue.

ABC got a glimpse of just how marketable Trumpists and Trumpism is in today’s USA … and will not retreat quietly into the Trump Night.

The high octane hate fuel of Trump and his “Believers” means money in ABC’s coffers.

The problem with “Roseanne” the show was … Roseanne, herself.

The crack TV research group at Seriously Absurd discovered ABC’s new approach to keep the spirit of the “Roseanna-dannas” alive … without exposure to Rosanne.


The pitch has been made to ABC execs.  The 300+ person Roseanne troupe’s clued in and they’re openly excited about keeping their jobs.

The idea was not rejected out-of-hand.

SA’s been told that ABC leaders sniff a money stream that can be resurrected.  Though not at the level of shouts … murmurs of “yowza, yowza, yowza” were heard in the executive suites after an initial meet with writers.


Simple plot fix … the problem with “Roseanne” was not the topical nature of the scripts or the dialog carried by the dysfunctional Connor family.

“All we needed to do,” mentioned an exec … on condition of anonymity … “is to get rid of Roseanne.  Everyone loves the family.

“We’ll write her out … opiod overdose … we already introduced that in season one.”

Writers described a funeral scene and subsequent sorrow filled flashbacks of her more acceptable TV widower, John Goodman.  Even her rabid “Nasty Woman” sister could shed a few tears as she eulogized an approachable more humane Roseanne.


“We can appeal to the groups we’ve alienated,” said an overly enthusiastic writer.

“After this ‘Roseanne BS’ blows over, we’ll bring her back … as a ghost … cameo appearances.

“Hell … ABC’s got Whoopi Goldberg under contract.  We’ll get her to play an eccentric psychic … just like her Oscar winning movie role in ‘Ghost.’  She’d be the buffer … a Black, liberal female … the perfect foil with an ally in Rosanne’s sister, Jackie.

“Whoopi could offer Rosanne guidance … you know … make her a softer-gentler version of herself.  Hell, maybe we give Whoopi an occasional soliloquy … kind of a spiritual medium’s “socio-cultural-but-not-too-liberal-soapbox.”


There’s always a way you can capitalize on what’s wrong … and make some money while doing it.  Hmmm … wonder if Sonofi … maker of Ambien … would be a sponsor?

Just sayin’ …

“This just in …”

Now that ‘45 has scuttled the North Korea summit, we at Seriously Absurd international headquarters wonder about the following:

Will the Nobel Peace Prize score card remain at … Trump zero, nada, zilch, a big empty bag of windy threats … Obama one?

Word in DC is that Kim canceled the meeting several days ago … ‘45’s “Dear Kim Letter” is a feeble attempt to save his wrinkly, orange, face-lift-face!

Will Trump Enterprises put the commemorative “non-summit” coin on EBay as a   “yuuge” and “biggly” deal?  A tasteless grand display in the lobby of the Trump International D.C. would work, too.

‘45 claims that any war in Korea … which is now inevitable … will be paid for by Japan and South Korea … they’ll be billed as soon as he collects from Mexico.

Michael Avenatti displayed a new commemorative profile coin of Trump & Stormy!  According to Avenatti, “Finally, the Orange Blob in the White House had a good idea!”

‘45 demands new Nobel category … “Tweet Lit!”  Calls for his immediate nomination … and, to close further names for consideration.

Eric and Junior already in talks with Kim for new Trump Towers in Pyongyang.  For Trump Deplorables … that’s the capital of North Korea.

Did Trump confuse Kim Jong-un with that “other Kim” … Kim Kardashian?

Trump books golf foursome for June 12th in case Kim wants to reschedule … he’s already booked!

What do we do with the 18 dumbest members of the House who nominated our “Grand Diplomat” to the Nobel committee … who now stand with Nobel Egg all over their collective faces?

Where’s Dennis Rodman, the true “Kim Whisperer,” when we need him?  Maybe Rodman should’ve penned that “Dear Kim Letter” … it would’ve been more coherent!

Word in from Norway … there’s a popup street party tonight … wild celebration led by the “Nobel Peacers!”  Trump to be burned … unfortunately in effigy.

Without a summit meeting, ‘45 has plenty of time, between golf outings, to meet with Special Counsel, Robert Mueller.  Rudy’s ecstatic … eyes bulging and crossing more than ever as he paces and chants, “He’ll sit … He’ll sit … Praise the Lord, he’ll sit!”


But wait … Breaking News from the Looney Tunes North Korean leader!

The Trump-Kim Mega Nuclear love fest may be … could be … sorta possibly be on again.  Who knows?

Could the “No Nukes-Yes Nukes” reality show be renewed?

Stay tuned and expect a “You’re Fired!” from either side in the season finale … and hope it doesn’t involve nuclear missiles.

Just sayin’ …

Message for Paul Ryan … “Don’t tug on Superman’s cape!”

I sure am glad GOP Speaker of the House, Paul Ryan’s slinking off to the hills of Wisconsin at the end of his term.  I just wish it were sooner.

In the meantime … here’s a bit of advice, Paul.

As you leave DC before the door hit’s you in the ass … “Don’t Mess Around with Jim” … as it says in Jim Croce’s hit song:

“ …. You don’t tug on Superman’s cape
You don’t spit into the wind
You don’t pull the mask off that old lone ranger
And you don’t mess around with Jim ….”


The House Chaplain’s name is Father Patrick Conroy … not Jim

But for Ryan and the rest of the GOP, it’s the lyrics that contain the message … not the name.

Unless you really know what you’re doin’, you don’t screw with Jesuits … and you sure don’t mess with God.

But that’s apparently what happened when Saint Paul sent his emissary over to “fire” the House Chaplain.


Way to go Paul … I guess you were auditioning for a spot on “45’s” sayonara episode of “White House Reality” by saying “You’re Fired” anyway but in-person.

Technically, Gutless Paul didn’t actually fire the Chaplain … he just asked him to resign based on some cockamamie accusations by the Evangelical Right Wing Tribalists in the House.

The move by Ryan … just months before the end of the Chaplain’s term … created open warfare between the Catholics and the Evangelical Protestants in the House.

We’re lucky that Martin Luther didn’t commit a “Walking Dead” cameo and hammer his “95 Theses” on the House Chamber doors!  You might recall that some folks think that was the beginning of the Protestant Reformation.


But … instead of retiring quietly into the night, the Reverend-Father-High-Holiness Conroy sought advice … which led him to quickly withdraw his letter of forced resignation.

As if we didn’t have enough problems to deal with!

Saint Paul, who earlier tripped over his own “you-know-what,” quickly surrendered and withdrew his request … which may have averted a Holy War!


Who among us even knew the House had a Chaplain?

Who among us knew his only stated duty was to open each session of the House with a prayer?  BTW – that’s only 135 days a year!

Who among us knew his office staff and operating expense costs us almost $800,000 a year … of which $172,500 is his salary?

Who among us knew the cost to the US taxpayer is almost $1700 per prayer?

I want his job!

Just sayin’ …