“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”---Lewis Carroll (or perhaps Donald Trump)
“if I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn’t. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn’t be. And what it wouldn’t be, it would. You see?”---Lewis Carroll, et al.
You have to be wary of that rabbit hole. Once you fall into the thing, everything is different. There may be no coming back. When we were kids, we had a compass to follow, rules laid down by parents and nuns, a code of conduct to be rigidly adhered to with dire consequences for offenders. Honesty was the best policy. Crime didn’t pay. Women were to be respected. You might kiss one on the hand but never on the patootie. But down here at the bottom of the rabbit hole, it’s different. Everything is in a constant state of flux. The prevailing morality is like New England weather---if you don’t like it, wait a few minutes and it will change. These days, alas, the change is often for the worse. Where are the nuns to protect us, to get out their rulers and slash a trail through the underbrush back to civilization?
Maybe it’s all just a bad acid trip. Maybe if we hang on long enough, we’ll peak and come down. Maybe our governor is not really an extraterrestrial put on Earth to lay the groundwork for an ultimate invasion by hairless loons. Maybe the president was not slyly constructed of rotting baboon parts in the underground lab of Dr. Sivana. Maybe our senators and congressmen are not really slime creatures from the dank recesses of a fetid bog. Maybe, like Alice, we’ll find our way out of this infernal darkness. Pluto---where are you, boy? We never needed you more.
I Got The White House Blues
“got ‘em from the bottom of my sycophant shoes….”
In administrations past, being invited to the White House was a big deal. Now, people don’t want to show up at all, and not just Steph Curry. And when they are required to be there, they’d prefer not to be noticed. FBI Director James Comey tried to blend in with the drapes. “He stood in the back,” reported colleague Ben Wittes, “right in front of the drapes, hoping Trump wouldn’t see him camouflaged against the wall. His blazer was the same color as the background. Didn’t work.”
One character who didn’t hide in the drapes was Wall Street financier Anthony Scaramucci, who succeeded whipping-boy Reince Priebus as White House communications director. The Mooch’s first declaration in his new position was “I am going to fire everybody,” which might have been a good idea. Not that he felt good about it. “This is actually a terrible thing,” alleged Mooch. “Let’s say I’m firing Michael Short (which he did) today. The fact that you guys in the press know about it before he does really upsets me as a human being and a Roman Catholic. You got that? So I should have an opportunity if I have to let somebody go to let the person go in a very humane, dignified way, and then the next thing I’m gonna do is help him get a job somewhere, O.K., because he probably has a family, right?” Anthony was let go in a very humane, dignified way ten days later by incoming Chief-of-Staff John Kelly who was not as soft-hearted as Mooch and didn’t get him a job somewhere.
While lawyers routinely operate behind the scenes, trying to keep their public comments limited and calculated, Donald Trump’s attorneys have regularly ignored convention, often bungling and revealing more than they should The lawyers have engaged in spats with reporters and trolls, disclosed internal business and even discussed the Russian investigation within earshot of a New York Times reporter. In mid-September, Trump attorneys Ty Cobb and John Dowd were blabbing away at Washington’s popular BLT steakhouse near both the White House and the Times’ Washington bureau. Among other things, they kvetched about White House counsel Don McGahn “and his spies.” McGahn got wind of the conversation and went nuts, resulting in a stern reprimand of the couple by John Kelly, who must feel at times like a Pennsylvania Avenue nanny. Cobb seems to need one. Among other things, he:
1. Asked a reporter for Business Insider whether she was “on drugs.” Later, he called the same woman “insane” and discussed using a drone on her with a prankster posing as a White House official.
2. Told D.C. restaurateur Jeff Jetton, “I walked away from $4 million annually to do this, had to sell my entire retirement account for major capital losses and lost a shitload to try to protect the third pillar of democracy.” When he took the job, Cobb told Law.com that he had “rocks in my head and steel balls” and that he had an impossible task with a nasty deadline. Impossible to defend the president from the Mueller probe? He might be right about that one.
Dowd, on the other hand, has been mild by comparison. The worst thing he did so far was to reply to an email complainer, “Watch your back, bitch!”
Meanwhile, Trump’s longtime colorful personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, remains on the muscle about the Russian probes, refuting press claims he was getting frustrated. “I feel great,” he told reporters from the Huffington Post. “Which picture of me did the Wall Street Journal decide to use. I am in many respects just like the president. Nothing seems to rattle me no matter how bad the hate.” Cohen enjoys engaging with critics and mixing it up on social media. He told Vanity Fair that “It means I’m relevant.”
A recent poll of 1000 adult Americans with nothing better to do revealed that 53.1 percent of women would not have sex with Donald Trump for a million dollars. Men were a little more discriminating. 55% of them would turn down the offer. These matters can always be subject to negotiation, however, and the average woman agreed to settle for $1,354,830.83. The average man (those whores!) would do the deed for a meager $1,099,872.67.
Hillary Clinton fared better. Nearly 41% of women and a mere 36% of men wouldn’t have sex with her for a million. 44% of women and 46% of men wouldn’t have sex with Bernie Sanders for the big bucks.
All of them fared better than Breitbart honcho Steve Bannon. Nobody at all would have sex with him. For any price. Ever.
Animals Emulate Humans, Run Wild
And why wouldn’t they, with such bad examples to imitate? In the old days, critters knew their place and it wasn’t breaking into a bar. Trigger was the model of deportment. Lassie was never off the wagon. Flipper seldom imbibed. But now, with the breakdown in civilized values, it’s a new ballgame. Things like this keep happening:
On Okaloosa Island in the Florida panhandle, a thirsty opossum broke into a local liquor store the day after Thanksgiving and had herself a few drinks on the house. As one might suspect, the culprit (who carried a fake ID) was underage. Michelle Pettis, a wildlife health technician at the Emerald Coast Wildlife Refuge, said the possum was brought in by a Fort Walton Beach police officer on November 24th after failing roadside sobriety tests. Law enforcement officials said the perp was discovered by a Cash’s Liquor Store employee sleeping it off next to a broken and empty bottle of Pappy Van Winkle Family Reserve Bourbon the morning after Thanksgiving.
“A worker there found the possum up on a shelf next to a cracked open bottle of liquor with nothing in it,” Pettis told reporters. “Assuming the girl drank it all, he brought her to us and we looked her over. She definitely wasn’t acting normal. This was the first possum we ever got in which had hiccups and sang ‘I’m Only a Bird In A Gilded Cage’ pretty much in tune. She definitely wasn’t acting normal.” Pettis said the heavy drinker also appeared disoriented, was salivating excessively and seemed pale. The staff at the refuge quickly pumped her full of fluids until she sobered up. Pettis said the possum didn’t seem to have a hangover. Liquor store owner Cash Moore said it was the first time in his life that he had a varmint break into his store and drink up his alcohol. “But it just goes to show,” he continued, “that even the animals are impressed with Cash’s.”
Polly Wants An Adjective
Then there was Barney, the foul-mouthed parrot. And in this day and age, who’d be surprised? After living for seven years with a vularity-spouting owner, Barney spoke entirely in curse words. He particularly delighted in telling visitors to “F*ck off!”
Worse yet, Barney started teaching his vocabulary to other birds in the pet sanctuary, which then began to swear at visitors. “I knew that Barney could swear,” said manager Geoff Grewcock, “but he’s been teaching the other two when we had our backs turned. It sounds like a builders’ yard with all the abuse flying about. Now, they just sit there swearing at each other all the time. We’ve got another African Grey called Sunny, who squawks ‘Shut up!’ at them when the swearing starts but they don’t take any notice.”
Even the fish are getting into the act. A Dover sole in Dorset, England jumped down the throat of a 28-year-old fisherman there, sticking in his gullet and causing a complete obstruction of the airway. Paramedics arrived in a speedy two minutes but by that time the victim had gone into cardiac arrest and stopped breathing. The medics used forceps to grab the fish’s tail and made five attempts to pull the fish free but were thwarted by its barb and gills, which were stuck in the angler’s throat. On the sixth attempt, they yanked the fish free but by then the man had turned blue, not having taken a breath in three minutes. With steady CPR from fellow fishermen, he survived.
Paramedic Mike Harrison said the fish came out in one piece and measured 14cm in length. “I have never attended a more bizarre incident,” he remarked, “and I don’t think I ever will.” At press time, Dorset police had not yet decided whether to charge the fish with attempted murder or the lesser crime of manslaughter. We’ll keep you posted.
In this day and age, you will not be shocked to learn there is gang violence in Cape Town, South Africa, perpetrated by a short, hairy fellow named Fred. You may be a LITTLE surprised to discover that Fred is a baboon. And he and his gang like to break into cars.
The boys daily stake out a road leading to Cape Point, South Africa’s southernmost point, and are often seen prowling the roadside looking for victims. The baboons have decided that cars are merely large ornamental treat holders and that pulling on door handles gives them instant access.
Unfortunately, this gang of thieves is not particularly fussy as to whether or not not the victim vehicles are occupied, causing the occasional shrieking abandonment by owners when Fred and the fellas flash their three-inch teeth. Baboons just want to have fun, now….boys just want to have fun.
Summary
Republicans historically have been advocates of the Trickle-Down Theory, a postulation that the benefits doled out to Big Business will eventually find their way down to the little guy. This, of course, is utter garbage where finances are concerned. But the Trickle-Down Theory seems to be working well where behavior is concerned. The sludge at the top is slowly oozing down to the rest of us, an acid sleet of worrisome proportions. And it’s tough to get out of this rabbit hole. Go ask Alice when she’s feeling small.
That’s all, folks….
