Land Ho … A Great American Land Grab

An unclaimed sliver of land is about to become the media center of world obsession.

If you ask Junior & Eric Trump … “Trump Tundra Ice-Golf & Spa … always on the move!” is perfect for a new Trump International investment.  They have yet to grasp that ice melts in water.  Damn science facts in their way again!

And keeping it “All in the Family,” President Trumplethinskin himself is chanting … “Make America Bigger Again … Make America Bigger Again!”


In an unprecedented move, The Trump Organization, represented by that “Fab Duo,” Junior and Eric … petitioned the US State Department to take occupation of the Larsen C Ice Shelf when it separates from Antarctica.

Jumping at the opportunity for US expansion, President Thinskin, in a 3AM tweet, instructed Congress to immediately annex the Antarctic ice shelf as a US Territory … before it comes under the influence of Radical Islamic Terrorists … or even Russia.


No single country owns Antarctica.  But no one thought that a frozen chunk … the size of Rhode Island … would break away from the continent.

Secretary of State, Rex Tillerson, refused to comment on the J/E Trump request … even under his oft used alias.  But, State Department insiders revealed that he was overheard muttering, “What ever possessed me to say ‘yes’ to that f**king moron?”

The T-Rump sons are desperate to “make their bones” with their dad and get out from under his alleged small thumbs.  “Tundra Ice-Golf and Spa” seems like a money maker … to them!

As usual, Congress has yet to respond to the President’s tweet until he shows them evidence of ex-President Obama’s wiretapping.


Unnamed sources, the only way to get news now, leaked that the President recently watched a Nat Geo rerun and was amazed to learn that seals loved ice and cold.

He thought they loved zoos.

Now, in place of his embattled Mexican Wall, he’s desperate to substitute a yuuge and bigly military training base for Navy Seal Team 6.

When the plan was revealed to DoD Secretary, James “Mad Dog” Mattis, a loud “WTF?” rumbled through the doors of his mega-secure office.


Meanwhile muddying the international waters even more, US Intelligence leaked that Ruski troops are prepared to invade the mega ice cube the day it breaks from Antarctica.

Ownership of this largest source of cocktail ice is not clear to anyone … not even RE/MAX International.

Just sayin’ …

C-Span Ratings Irk Trumpelthinskin

Demonstrating that he’s capable of fighting wars on multiple fronts … think Streep Tweet War, Putin Hack War, Cabinet Confirmation War, Personal Lawsuit Wars, No DC Gown Wars … President-elect Trump now has C-Span (Congressional TV) in his sights.

He’s pissed about C-Span’s nonexistent TV ratings and is determined to “Make C-Span Great – Finally!”


In fact, his China Trade connection, “Chairman Mayo” – a clever Mao body double and the only Chinaman T-Rump recognizes – has personally confirmed that China’s prepared to ship 62,979,636 hats to support his new C-Span campaign.

BTW … that’s one for each T-Rump voter.


According to sources, in his first 100 days T-Rump will empower Sean Hannidy of “Fake FOX News” to head a presidential task force – funded from hat sales minus costs to Trump Enterprises.

The Task Force’s comprised of noted B-list Hollywood movie moguls, actors, and valet parking attendants.


T-Rump wants C-Span congressional floor debates to be introduced with specially written partisan political party fight songs performed by the singers and dancers used to kick-off NFL TV broadcast games.

Lights, smoke, thunderous-pounding music and lotsa hunky, sexy, bods, strutting  on stage provide the warm-up for these blood-debates.

Speakers appear in sequined satin suits … blue for Dem and red for GOP … displaying logos for their major donors and PACs.

A shirtless and buffed-up Bernie Sanders is promised as a special speaker.  Bernie Bros announced that he’s already training for the events.

Sanders tweeted … “I’m psyched! Can’t wait! Will make the GOP pay for the Damn Wall! Free college in 2020!”

Special on-line trash talking and “dissing” lessons are for speakers who want to “up their debate game.”

Expect to hear “Yoh mama” … “Shut yo punk a**, you Moh-Foh” … and “Your Mudder wears army boots” … that last one’s a throw-in for generationally challenged speakers.


According to presidential consulting-advisor-caught-flatfooted-and-hamena-hamena-specialist, Kelleyanne Conway, “President-elect Trump is determined to boost C-Span ratings.  We’re the laughing stock of TV politics.”

T-Rump himself issued a final statement:

“Look at other countries.  Throwing chairs and having fist-fights in chambers.  That’s Reality Congress!

“Think Kevin Spacey – ‘House of Cards’ on steroids.  ‘Madam Secretary?’ … Can it.  Stunk up TV.  So unrealistic.

“We’re talking about Congressional Entertainment.  Boring?  Wrong!

“Reality C-Span … That’s what I’m talking about!”

Oh, my … Just sayin’ …

Joy to the Wallet

As I write this, there are 24 days, 13 hours, 12 minutes and 50 seconds left until Xmas.


Remember when we used to only track the “shopping days ‘til Xmas?”

No more.  Thanks to “Cyber Shopping,” now we count days, hours, minutes and seconds as we shop for Xmas 24-7.

C’mon Man … how much fun is it staring at your E-device instead of warming up with a Margarita or two, heading into town, parallel parking with bravado, sharp elbows popping other shoppers outta your way, tanking up on more Margaritas, telling the store wrapper to “skip the bow ‘cause you’re in a hurry,” looking for that one last gift that you think’ll be perfect … did I mention the barrels of essential Margaritas?


This year, I decided to try my hand at … online shopping, a grand venture into the vast unknown of … “The Internet Economy!”

I randomly grabbed three print-catalogs that Xmas marketers jammed into our mail box.

“The Popcorn Factory” … “Sharper Image” … and “What on Earth, a collection of really cool stuff – over a 450 gifts under $20.”

Using these catalogs, I started my “on-the-line” spree.


My motto – tackle the Big Dawg first!  I logged into “What on Earth.”  Hey, 450 items under $20 … that’s what I’m talkin’ about!

I e-searched and discovered there’s a lotta really worthless s**t for $20-$40.

But, the Superhero Apron Set – that caught my eye.  Wonder Woman, endowed with breasts that drove sex-crazed-teen-boys into a frenzy, and Captain America, with a built in codpiece crotch.  Yowzaa!

I could see my wife and I boogying in the kitchen, cooking up a storm, seducing each other in our hot-to-trot aprons … $24.95.

I rethought the aprons.  Not Happenin’!


Next, I dove into the food arena via The Popcorn Factory.

I could tell right away this wasn’t Jiffy Pop over-the-stove-popcorn-s**t!

Let’s go whole hawg!  I zeroed-in on the popcorn tyranny-tower of Dancing Reindeer Tins.  Only $169.95.

Uh oh … the tower’d probably collapse from rot before we could snack through it!

Not Happenin’!


Then I went Big Time … the Sharper Image – home of “Tomorrow’s Best Gifts Available Today!”

Who doesn’t want to have a “sharper image?”  I was hooked.

And here it is – a “Shoe Deodorizer!  A stand-up thingie that uses ultraviolet light that’s been “tested to kill harmful germs in a laboratory setting.”

OMG … wonder if it’ll work in the closet.  That’s kinda like a very unusual laboratory setting.

Gotta have it … only $139.99.

Hmmm.  I’ve never ever met anyone who sniffs shoes.  That’s a big Not Happenin’!

Guess I’ll just learn to love my somewhat-less-than-sharper-image.


After a rigorous day of on-the-line shopping, I let out a deep breath and whispered to no one in particular but quite possibly everyone in general …

“Merry Xmas to all and to all a good night … I’m waitin’ ‘til the 24th to shop!”

Just sayin’ …

Just Released: Donald Trump Stars in “Nasty Woman”

Debates number one and two were packed with lots of good s**t … especially if you’re a poke-fun-at-anything-that-moves Blogger.

But that third one … what a gold mine.  A real monster lode.

And it was wrapped-up in bright orange flesh, skanky orange hair, and unbelievably bushy orange eyebrows.  The vein just kept on pumping out orangey-gold.

“Nasty Woman” … two little words whispered by T-Rump into his then working mic, while Clinton racked up her 3,438th debate point.

Why am I so excited?  Just follow me through the post debate spin cycle.

(Note: I have my own news source – … we promise you that nothing is verified, no opinions are based on logic or fact, and that the truth does not lie anywhere in-between, on, or within anything we report.)


A new marketing slogan’s launched … Don’t stop with “This Nasty Woman Votes” bumper stickers … Hey, “Bad Hombre,” Let’s rock’n’roll with the entire taco!

Vera Wang’s already on it.

“The Nasty Woman” fashion line … Worn with pride by the “Pride of Lionesses Who Dare!”

“Nasty women unapologetically wear my clothes,” said a breathless Wang immediately following the third debate debacle while sketching on napkins, note paper, and anything else papyrus that she could grab.


In a move of rare familial solidarity, Bill Clinton, in true Sarah Palin style, gave a shout-out to the lingering crowd, “Nasty my ass.  That fat orange Bastard ain’t seen nuttin’ yet!”

Chelsea, hugging mom post-debate, stage whispered for all the Fundits to hear, “You’re one Nasty-assed Woman.  I’m proud to call you my Mom.”


Melania Trump tried to slink out but was overheard muttering as she dove headfirst into the T-Rumpcopter … “Just wait until that pasty faced orange blob gets home … never apologized, my ‘nasty ass.’

“I’m changing the locks as soon as I get home.  He’s, how do you Americans say it? ‘Toast!’”


Meanwhile, Kelly Ann Conway, quivering like a jellyfish fought back her rage saying, “That F**ker’s absolutely ruined me.  “‘Nasty woman?’  That’s exactly what I told him NOT to say.

“I told that pussy, Bannon, clamp those metal clips on his small balls … not his arm pits.

“Christ, I’m surrounded by schlong waving Bozos.  What’s a woman to do?”


Ivanka, flouncing her “T-Rump approved” ass past the press corps and Fundits, let it be known that she was headed back to Ivana’s penthouse … until the election’s over.

The ever clever Eric and Junior were high fiving and pointing loaded finger guns at each other.  After mock firing, they blew mock smoke from the barrels of their little’ish fingers.

One Fundit whispered, “S**t, sure wish they’d been loaded.”


The s**t’s hit the fan … but then the GOP whiners have always been a lovely shade of brown’ish.

Just sayin’ …

Super Debate #1 … Party Plans

Just got back from Publix … with my stash for my Super Debate #1 Bash!

Been mentally prepping for weeks.  Lots of suspense … who’s gonna grab the Super Debate #1 ring?

debate-main-pageOn the kitchen counter I sort my stash into my basic food groups:  Alcohol … beer, wine (for my wife) and vodka.  Citrus … lemon and lime.  Orange colored cheesy stuff … Doritos Cheese Nachos and Cheetos.  Ice.  Got eats covered.

But people, specifically Trumpsters, are saying there’s something just not quite right about this debate.

Of course, Don the Con’s already whined that the moderator’s a “set up.”  The Con says he’s ready to have a serious discussion of the issues … like whether Hillary’s “sleeping her way to success.”


So what’s the deal with holding Super Debate #1 at Hofstra University … a school that dropped football in 2009 and just resurrected its debate team in 2016?

Plus, this is the third … get it … third presidential debate that’s been held at Hofstra.  Obama vs McCaine … Obama vs Romney and now Clinton vs Trump.

Over 2500 colleges and universities in the country and we have held three debates at Hofstra?

Could Trump be right?  Is the system rigged?


The run-up to this debate rivals promo for the Stupor Bowl.

TV ads are dead ringers for sports spots … harsh raspy voices barking hyperbolized adjectives at the listener.  Lights flashing.  Music drumming.  It’s “Countdown to Super Debate #1!”

Combatants’ photos reveal their most ferocious expressions.

Questions raised?  Which Donald incarnation will show up?  Will it be the “Tele-prompter-Barbie-like-quasi-Presidential Don?”  Or, the radioactive pulsating Donald?

Will Hillary attack trying to “get under Trump’s day-glow orange skin?”  Will she wear a dress and try to totally throw him off his game?

Just like the Stupor Bowl, we get daily reports about debate prep.  Who will play Trump for Hillary?  Godzilla?

Will Trump even prepare for the debates?  Does watching reruns of “The Apprentice” count?


The bottom line … Super Debate #1 will be the most watched presidential debate.

It’ll reveal almost nothing about the candidates and their policies.

God bless Hillary … she’ll take the most simple recipe and turn it into an elaborate description for a seven course meal.

And Donald … well, he’ll just be The Donald, tell us nothing of substance and Fact Checkers will spend the next three days wondering what he said.

The most fun?  Watching post-debate analyses as the Fundits work themselves into lathered frenzies blathering about who won.

Just sayin’ …

To Floss or not to Floss?

That may be the question, but suddenly millions of us are chomping on our dental plates to know, “what’s the effing answer?”

Flossing-FingerAfter years of dire warnings, what do you mean there’s no evidence that daily flossing is beneficial?

I’ve wrestled with that crippling guilt of being an Intermittent Flosser, or “IFer,” long enough.

Unlike my practiced and earnest wife, I’ve never been able to “finish off” a box of Floss.  Mine always seemed to disappear into the Floss-zone long before I’d used it all up.

I’m tired of suffering from PTSD every five years when I visit the dentist’s office.

But apparently the dominatrix tyrant hygienist who’s so adept at making me feel guilty no longer has me in her choke hold.


Dentist’s office … I’m in the chair … already sweaty and tense.  I’m rehearsing my answer to “THE QUESTION.”

The door swishes open.  My pulse sky rockets.

She sits down and commands, “Open wide.”

Here comes the bomb:  “Do you floss … reg-u-lar-ly?”

With a mouthful of some kind of “berry crap” and paraphernalia, I garble  “Yuhhuh … regraree armos erry dah.”

“Hmmm … we’ll see.”


But this visit I’m locked and loaded.  I’ve read the research.  The scam is over.

O-V-E-R … Over!

I violate all dental protocols and sit up in the chair.  Mouth freed from the imprisoning instruments of dental hygiene, I spit before I’ve been granted permission.

Then I whip out my copy of the recent extensive Associated Press survey and calmly read:  “The majority of available studies fail to demonstrate that flossing is generally effective in plaque removal.”

“That’s true.  You can Google it yourself,” I announce and spit again.

Dead silence as a once sterile dental pick drops on the tray with a distinct clink.

I lie back down and quietly hum a few bars of “Born Free” … filled with a new found freedom having cast aside years of nylon stringed imprisonment.


When I get home, I feel just a bit alone.  It’s like I’m missing an old friend.

I go into the bathroom and hold my Dental Floss in my hand.

“It’s ok little box of Floss.  I’ll still use you … just not everyday.  And I won’t feel guilty about it.”

I then take the six Floss containers I have stored for when I can’t find the one that I’ve been using, sit down at my computer, and Google “Creative ways to use Dental Floss.”

I get 997,000 entries in .70 seconds.  Who knew?

Just sayin’ …

Kurt Vonnegut … “I tell you, we’re here on earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.”

Aaah, Sweet Baby, Geezus.  I was thinking about the reality of living with someone in shared space colliding with our fantasies of relationships.

Fart all marriagesYou’re probably already sayin’, “Whoa back, Richard … there’s still time.  Get your meds … or some Vodka.

“You still share space with a really wonderful person.  Don’t blow it, you dumb s**t!”

Well as we say down South, “Mama din’t raise no fools.”

So if you want to walk on the edge of relationship building with me, you’ll just have to read some more.


If you’re “married,” you exchanged some version of relationship vows.  You may have written your own.  Modified what was written hundreds of years earlier, or recited traditional vows.

Whatever the situation, lofty promises, expressing undying love and “forever-and-ever” living together were uttered.  Nowhere was it mentioned that living with another person wasn’t like the happily ever after life of the Princess and Prince of fairy tales.

We then launched a beautiful relationship on the rocky, pot holed pathway of reality.

And, by now you realize that the Princess I live with is not matched up with a Prince.


Round One with the Un-Prince …

Thank the pagan god of toothpaste, “Hydroxyapatite,” that several years ago a major Un-Princely debate was eliminated when toothpaste tubes changed from a lead and tin alloy to space age “plastic.”

No more could I use the line, “Name me one person who doesn’t squeeze and roll from the bottom of the tube.”


Round Two …

Multiple bathrooms in single family houses established real detante.  No longer sharing the bathroom with your Prince or Princess eliminated an “ugly stink.”

The words, “Honey, your s**t really stinks,” are no longer literal.

But if used euphemistically, they’re still grounds for the gauntlet thrown down, pistolas drawn, sabers unsheathed and the “s**t hitting the fan” … so to speak.


The Final Round …

Yes, it’s all about reaching that age in our lives when we just can’t seem to control expelling gas from our nether regions.

It’s funny or silly when your pet farts.  It’s even entertaining with a bunch of drunk guys and no females in the room.

But, when your Prince or Princess farts … it’s never funny, silly or entertaining.  And, yes we all fart in spite of the avalanche of early motherly interventions.

But, this time it’s the pagan god “Propaneous” with his patented “Fart Blanket” who comes to our rescue.

And, folks, all I’ll tell you is … the “Sumb**ch” controls the “blowback” and you can get it on Amazon!

Just sayin’ …

Obama’s Kitchen Aid

If you’re pissed about “Obama Care,” wait until you read this.

Not only is President Obama meddling with our hospitals, doctor’s offices, insurance companies and personal birth control, he’s also cavorting in our kitchens with Betty Crocker and Aunt Jemima.

Now he’s had the audacity to demand that the manufacturers of our Mix Masters, Keurigs, VitaMixes and all other appliances re-engineer them so they will no longer be the watt-guzzling budget suckers of American households.

Before you say, “So what?” listen to this:  these sweeping changes could save consumers, that’s us, over 14 billion dollars in 2016, and 100s of billions by 2030.

Yes, that’s “billion” with a “B.”  Wow, how’d this happen?


Before you get too carried away, this isn’t the result of a suddenly cooperative Congress in a hand-holding Kumbaya group hug moment with our President.  These changes have been creeping into our kitchens since 2009 as a result of “dreaded presidential executive orders.”

Yep, as in Obama the Emperor, the Dictator, the Over-Reacher.

Why isn’t the GOP screaming about abuse of power, job killing and too much government interference when the President’s in our kitchens?

Maybe it’s because he hasn’t tried to make us go through a background check before we purchase our Amana freezers or register our deadly central A/C units and convection ovens.

Or possibly it’s because there isn’t a black market for illegal sales of stolen washers, electric carving knives and steam irons.  And I’m not aware of anyone killed by a radio … except in old Alfred Hitchcock movies involving a bubble bath murder scene where the radio is tossed in the tub.  ZZZZZT!

Where are the threats to “take the President to court?”

I can see Scalia giggling as he pounds his key board issuing his scathing dissent on the cultural dangers of energy efficient bagel toasters backed up by Thomas’ rant over Bosch dishwashers’ low energy utilization.

God forbid the “gub-mint” helps the little guy … the middle class … the poor person paying ever increasing utility bills.  So let’s hear it for the “Chef-in-Chief of America’s Kitchens.”

Hip-hip-hooray – hip-hip … wait a minute is that the voice of dissent I hear in the kitchen wilderness of America?

Oh … the Association of Home Appliance Manufacturers thinks these changes are coming too fast which could result in the industry turning out shoddy appliances?

What?  Don’t they mean shoddi-er?  They think we still manufacture shit here?  No way!

Just sayin’.

The Polit-a-razzi

OMG!  We’re under attack. The Polit-a-razzi are at the gates!!  Reality TV has spawned this near sighted Goliath, filling every TV, tablet, smart phone and ear bud with political slime.  They stalk their preferred prey setting up for the kill with tabloid style “gotcha moments” and campaign wrecking fake exposes.

Think political gangbanging reporters armed with high powered fully-automated cameras engaged in drive-by shooting, recording and reporting on presidential candidates.

Facts be damned … the Polit-a-razzi feed on what sells.  If it’s not outrageous, doesn’t promote a conspiracy theory, or isn’t wild speculation … it’s not news.  And, if it’s not news, it’s not in Polit-a-razzi lenses.

Now you know why some of the candidates have gone MIA.  Have you seen Martin “Who’s-He?” O’Malley, Chris “I-did-not-Move-the-Traffic-Cones” Christie, Bobby “I-too-am-a-Man-of-Color” Jindal or Carly “I-was-a-Woman-before-I-was-a-CEO” Fiorina, surrounded by the Polit-a-razzi?

No!  Why not?

Because they’re so boring they can’t bribe, bully or bait the Polit-a-razzi into coming after them.  The only time we hear about them is when they’re the target de jour of a Trump-mauling.

So, who do the Polit-a-razzi love, feed off of, and chase?  You guess.


You got it – The Donald and The Hukster-bee, the guys with ids from the deep.  They know the Polit-a-razzi thrive on raw meat.

Showing up at the Kim Davis get-out-jail-free scam was a brilliant move by The Hukster-bee.  He even upstaged Ted “I’m-just-out-for-a” Cruz.

Poor Ted … turned away by a Huckster-bee lineman’s cut-block and shown the exit ramp of the big “No-Gays-Married-Today” stage.  No camera time for you, Cruz-er.

As for Hillary “I’m-Sorry-Already” Clinton and Bernie “Yes-I’m-an-Old-White-Socialist” Sanders, all they have to do is sneeze … or pretend to sneeze, and the Polit-a-razzi press are mobbing them.

The Polit-a-razzi is in it for the cliff hanger.  They want hot-n-sexy in the moment political cat fights, catastrophic potential campaign ending gaffs, photos of a candid-date’s “political belly fat” … or God forbid, “political cellulite.”  That’s what gets the cameras whirring, the pundits yelling and Twitter tweeting.

This melee is definitely fun to watch.  But I wonder … is anyone tuned into the current “Reality USA” show which features our crumbling infrastructure, ineffective schools, Middle East chaos, immigration fiasco, and countless sub-plots?

Probably not … that’s way too “real” and exhausting.

It’s way easier to settle for endless debates about whether Tom Brady “really” did deflate those footballs and whether Roger Goodell will survive as the head of the NFL.  Thank God for football!

Just sayin’.


Scandal Hits Muppet Land

Can you believe it?

After 40 long years Kermit and Miss Piggy are no longer an item.

Do I hear someone whispering behind the sty, “You can’t put lipstick on a pig?”  ABC, the new network in Muppet Land, knows this scandal will only get worse.

And if you effing believe that Kermit’s ex-pigfriend is ready to go oinkless into the night, then, I’ve got a bridge in Brooklyn I want to talk to you about.

Did Miss Piggy ever get a first name?  Nooo!  But, the new starlet pig escorted by the slimy green frog has a first name and it’s not Miss, Ms. or Mrs.

Kermit’s new flame, Denise, works at ABC.  She’s a younger, slimmer pig with seductive almond eyes, and the TV execs want us to believe that all’s well as Kermit parades around the sets with his new sowfriend preparing for next season’s “docu-series.”   What pond scum!!

Forty years is a long-term relationship whether you’re actual humans or fuzzy Muppets created for the educational entertainment of kids and adults with the brains of kids.  A Hollywood break-up after 40 years deserves more than a blog post or two.

The Kardashians, all of them, get more press when they blink their eyes.  And it’s for-damn-sure they’ll never appear on PBS, NPR or any other educational station.

Miss Piggy’s the Liz Taylor of Swinedom and Kermit, well, to keep the analogy going, is the Richard Burton of non-prince Frogdom.  All the times this romantic duo kissed, Kermit never once poofed into a Prince Charming.

Did Miss Piggy just not have that special “it?”

Or,is it finally a proven fact that Kermit, after all is said and done, is just a nasty frog … and I’m not making a non-PC reference to our French allies.

I beg you, Miss Peggy, fight for your self respect.  Take on the mantle of “bayou frog gigger” and go after that cold blooded amphibian Kermit.  Don’t let the little green ribbit-er get away with hopping around town with his younger, slimmer version of a Love Pork Chop!

Don’t crawl back to the sty and take this wallowing around.  Spare not a rib.  Gird up your loins.  This is no picnic.  We’re talking a WWE style bare pig knuckles fight to the death!

Just sayin’.