Break out the tinfoil hats.  The best is yet to come.

The “Trump Fake Newsies” just keep on coming.  I can’t make this s**t up fast enough to keep up with the real fake news that the news fakers try to fake us out with daily.

Trumplethinskin staffers may as well sing out in unison, “Let us entertain you …”

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Kellyanne “Teflon” Con-Way has openly and freely admitted that she’s no “Inspector Gadget.”  Did she mean she didn’t have “the necessary genetic part” under her trench coat?

Maybe Kellyanne missed the splendid Gadget movie and the Saturday AM cartoon series.

I’m sure Inspector Gadget would’ve known how to hook-up that Trumplethinskin Tower “combo microwave-surveiller!”

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Con-Way embellished the Trumple Tower wiretapping hoax from an FBI dime-a-dozen wiretap to the broader field of surveillance” and then, when asked about verification immediately blurted out, “I’m not in the job of having evidence”.

WTF?  An appointed spokesperson for the President of the United States has no responsibility for evidence?  Oops, I forgot … she’s the “Alt-fact Queen!”

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And, this blew in from across the pond Friday AM … Sean “Yama-Yama-Yama” Spicer announced that Trumple Tower was surveilled by the Brit’s intelligence service, GCHQ, not by any US agency.  And the request to the Brit’s came from ex-President Obama.

Bomb’s away!  Throw your #1 ally under the espionage bus and then ask for their cooperation later in your fight against ISIS!

That’s called “Yuuge and Bigly” military planning!

The Brit’s, after making sure this was a truth uttered by a White House official, laughed, yelled “Blimey!” and disavowed any knowledge of the President of the United States as well as the alleged surveillance.

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After Kellyanne “spilled the beans,” and Sean Spicer “screwed the pooch” … in this case the British Bulldog, I raced to my nearby “spy store” to prepare for our now very iffy future.

Banging through the front door I loudly announced I wanted one of those “surveilling microwaves” Teflon Con-Way told us about.

I got a big “Bwa-ha-ha” from the clerks as they gently guided me back the way I had come … straight out to the street.

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Undaunted, I’m now shopping online to get one of Ivanka’s newest creations … “Ivanka’s Tinfoil Head Wear.  A must-have for your next Conspiracy Theorist Rally.”

This beauty is “guaranteed to put you in touch with your very own alt-world inner conspiracy, and wipe out any urge for evidence or facts.”

Just sayin’ …

Communicating with each other’s here to stay.  It’s not a fad.

It all started with grunts and hand motions.  And it worked for early grunters.

Raise your grunt volume for emphasis, or use endearing little grunts in the private dark recesses of the cave.

No food in the larder?  She grunts, points at a pile of bones, crosses her legs tightly, and makes an ugly face.

He, bewildered and frustrated … grabs his club, a long pointed stick, a sack of rocks, jumps up and down grunting and slapping his chest, spins around, and lopes out of the cave making even louder grunts.

If there were a cave door … he’d slam it!

She … leans into the fire pit, lights up a tightly rolled leaf she’d stashed … inhales and smiles.

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Flash forward an eon or two plus a couple of ages.  Suspend your reality … insert Twitter and Texting into that universe.

You’re in Jerusalem and spot Jesus.  He’s getting a foot bath from a local prostitute as he tweets

“@Jesussavingsouls.”   “Kristn. Nito far 3 teg.  Bazukhn mit foter.  Kukn far mir dem zuntik.  Freyen aun shlum, I.” …

which loosely translated from Yiddish is:

“Christians.  Gone for 3 days.  Visit with Father.  Look for me this Sunday.  Rejoice and Peace, J.”

Think tweets impacting the size of the crowd at the Sermon on the Mount … a piece of matzah … and not enough fish!

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And “Honest Abe,” pacing and muttering in the Oval Office, a bigtime procrastinator, he faces a time crunch.  He’s gotta come up with something for a little speech at Gettysburg.  Licking the nub of a pencil: “Hmmm … lemme try ‘Five score …’ S**t!  How many years’re in a score?”

He taps a text to John Hay, his personal secretary:

“Dammit, Hay!  How many years in a score!  Need to know now!”

And voilà … “Four score and seven years ago” kicks off one of Abe’s best speeches.   Who knows how things would’ve turned out if Lincoln had texted:

“M, can’t make the play tonight.  Too much going on.  Think this war’s almost done!”

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Think of poor old Herbert Hoover’s campaign.  It wasn’t easy getting the word out in 1929.  “A chicken in every pot and a car in every garage!” … a catchy tweet if I ever read one!

FDR had his fireside chats … and he milked them for all he could.  But think if he could have tweeted, “This day shall live in infamy …”

So, now we have Twitter … and look who we got?

Almost makes me want the Pony Express back!

Just sayin’ …

First we had The Women’s March … aka The Nasty Woman and Pink Pussy Hat Day.

Not to be out done by this massive vulvaic-female demonstration … on February 16^th, we had our first “A Day without Immigrants” … which according to reports unfortunately cost lots of hard working immigrants their shitty jobs, in shitty work environments, with shitty bosses.  AND …

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while not planning to be as boisterous and probably not sporting vaginal pink hats, scientists from all over the US will have their say about the lack of respect our current administration has for test tubes, the environment, Bunsen burners, and … TV personality physicists armed with actual facts chatting about global warming.

Yep … scientists will claim their piece of “street cred” when they walk out of the lab and into the streets turning America’s city streets into gigantic Petri dishes.  Their special day is April 22^nd as part of our Earth Day celebration.

I’m sure you remember Earth Day … a love fest filled with Frisbees, drugs, and flower bedecked hippies dancing around.

Angry scientists … WTF?

Go full cycle now as women again will take to the streets for another show of female force and vociferousness when on March 8^th they hold “A Day without a Woman” as part of the International Women’s Day worldwide celebrations.

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Enough I say … Enough … All these special days “with and without!”

It’s time we heard from my constituency … The “Kinda-Fat-But-Still-Kinda-Cute-Old-White-Men!”

How ‘bout a “Day without an Old White Man?”  Or thinking big … maybe even, “The Million Old White Men’s March?”

C’mon … we want our day in the setting sun.

We stand for something … I’m not sure exactly what, but there has to be something we can be proud of other than carnage, pillage, hogging all the jobs, and “Hey guys, what say we have a little fun today and go sack a village?”

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In fact, as you read this, today Sunday, March 5^th is National Absinthe Day and … National Cheese Doodle Day.

And if we can set aside an entire day for Absinthe and its “go to accompaniment,” Cheese Doodles, we can damn sure celebrate the achievements of “Kinda-Fat-But-Still-Kinda-Cute-Old-White-Men!”

Hmmm … will we have to march?  If so … how far?  What date?  We can’t miss the Super Bowl, Final Four, Daytona 500, NBA Finals or, or …

Just sayin’ …