Forget the Grapes

 
Here’s another timely story that deserves a reprint for a touch of nostalgia, along with a hardy chuckle.  Please enjoy it and return next week for a brand new essay.  Thanks for reading!

 

 

A recent shopping adventure made me smile – behind my mask, of course – because of all the Christmas trees, bins full of wrapping paper, and toys.  This prominent display of holiday retail revelry got me to think: Wow!  We’re just two weeks away from Halloween.

 

Indeed, Halloween is approaching and will likely arrive before Thanksgiving and Christmas, unless Congress, who changed the time, declares otherwise.  They have the power and ultimate last word in everything else so, why not?

 

Oddly enough, this evident calendar faux pas presented another great law of unintended consequences – lots more candy is suddenly available, and in spades!

 

While perusing the confectionary aisle I recalled days of yore when times were different, and I once again mustered a masked smile.

 

Years ago, one never knew how many trick-or-treaters would stop by to raid the candy bowl, or if they would even show up to beg or threaten for goodies.  After all, America is still recovering from the COVID-19 pandemic, finding themselves in need of a respite.

 

Some years seemingly countless rug rats would envelop the street in a mob-like scenario dressed in a varying array of costumes ranging from the latest television characters and movie heroes, to the old standby hobos and witches.

 

Of course, there were some disguises that appeared professional while others seemed to reflect a last-minute, poorly executed attempt at candy pillaging.

 

Not to be left out, a few late stragglers sporting 4-day beard growths and smoking Marlboros invariably would show up in a weak effort to snag some free stuff.  Unfortunately, those tired ploys rarely worked on me.  Get a job, I say.

 

It was during some social awareness campaigns that the number of trick-or-treaters dramatically dwindled, though.  Parents fearing for their children’s safety kept many of the masquerading kids home, on some occasions, while other years introduced community gatherings that were controlled and managed by neighborhood parents and housing organizations.

 

These feel-good efforts resulted in fewer kids marching from house-to-house-to-house to bang on doors demanding extorted goods by yelling, “Trick-or-treat.”  And it usually worked. Except for the stingy neighbors, that is.

 

Yes, you know who you are.  That is why your house is annually subjected to a good toilet papering or a thorough egging.  But you asked for it.

 

Unfortunately, those safety-concerned awareness campaigns not only kept the kids off the streets and away from front porches, but they also created a supply and demand imbalance, resulting in people buying less goodies for next year’s Halloween go-around.

 

Because of the season change and waning daylight, wee children and pre-K tots normally made their rounds early – just after Mom and Dad returned home from work, about five PM.

 

Some kids were carried, others were dragged around by their hands, and some arrived sleeping in their strollers.  But all were adorable and deserved a prize.

 

We’ve had bumble bees, elephants, princesses, clowns, science fiction characters, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and soldiers darken our doorway.  Firemen, nurses, policemen, chefs, and politicians also stopped by to join the All Hallows Eve fun.

 

But it was the early comers that scored tens on the give-away scale.  After a few consecutive years of slacking visitors, we cut back on the candy and opted for something healthier and more appealing to my sainted wife and me.

 

Our modified giveaways consisted of pre-packaged pretzels and cheese crackers.  Once again, because we wanted fewer leftovers, we bought less.  And that was when the panic began.

 

Our pretzel and cracker bags were purchased in boxes of 48; we bought 2 boxes.  That was the year we received 122 ghoulish trick-or-treaters.

 

It was at this moment that I recalled my own trick-or-treat adventures back in the 1950's and 1960’s.  Then, the elderly neighborhood widows passed out homemade popcorn balls, caramel apples, and candied apples; labor intensive, but made with love.

 

It was when their supplies dwindled, they began passing out wooden pencils, loose change, and individual cough drops, all in the spirit of the moment.

 

Not to disappoint due to lack of preparedness, we contemplated passing out “thoughtful” treats along those lines and eventually resorted to turning off the lights in lieu of handing out sugar packets, cat treats, a handful of grapes, ice cubes, or Post-it Notes.  I think that was a wise choice.  And notation made for next Halloween.

 

On the other hand, a roll of toilet paper, paper towels, gas cards, or hand sanitizer might just appear overly generous and thoughtful in today’s climate.

 

In any case, Happy Halloween!

 

Mesmerized

 Once upon a time, late night television consisted of smart, funny, and clever hosts.  Those shows filled a void in the 1950’s and, in 1962, a new irreverent host named Johnny Carson, began his 30-year run as the gold standard of nighttime comedy.

 

Since there were only three national channels at that time, Carson had little in the way of competition, unlike today.

 

Running Monday through Friday, immediately following the local 11:00 PM news, Carson paraded familiar as well as not-so-well-known guests across his stage to offer a brief opportunity for national exposure.  And it worked well.

 

Singers, musicians, comedians, and authors, all graced The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson bringing entertainment to the average American household.  Unfortunately, The Tonight Show of yore was on much too late for a youngster, such as me, to watch with any regularity.

 

To make matters worse, home video recorders were not available precluding anyone with a “normal” job with “regular” work hours, from enjoying the ruckus world of genuine TV amusement.  The only occasions I was able to tune-in was on school-free eves, and those were rare, indeed.

 

But I recall watching at least on episode on which a hypnotist appeared.  And I was agog.

 

Seeing similar skits wrapped into Saturday morning cartoons, I watched the ‘toons pull a pocket watch from their non-existent pocket.  An exaggerated arc was created by the watch’s fob swinging to engage another cartoon character who became mesmerized in a matter of cartoon seconds.

Tool of the hypnotism trade

 

From there, a spell-like trance was imposed creating a comical furtherance of the cartoon.

 

It was the The Tonight Show guest, though, that brought funny imagination to life, so to speak.

 

Much like the aforementioned cartoon humor, a living, breathing humorist with a pocket watch enters Carson’s stage during the one of very few nights I was watching.

 

As I recall, a brief explanation of the hypnosis procedure was given to the audience, followed by supposedly clueless participants.  Several people who were the hypnosis recipients (I’m pretty sure there’s an actual word to describe them, but I’m too lazy to search for it,) were given explicit instructions by the hypnotist.

 

The presumed gold, chained watch – remember that most of these shows were in black and white – was then swung to garner the attention of the first subject.  One-by-one, these televised Guinea Pigs were summarily put under a psychological spell to begin the fun.

 

With one person being told to believe he was a chicken, the newly-designated 160-pound chicken started clucking while strutting about the stage.  Another participant was instructed to imagine themself as a dog; the barking and sniffing began almost instantaneously.

 

A third person was also temporarily transformed into something which I can’t remember, likely due to my incessant laughing along with The Tonight Show audience.  Eventually, the hypnotist, as per earlier instructions, snapped his fingers to bring the willing participants back to reality, to everyone’s pleasure.

 

In any case, it was acts and appearances such as this that helped shape today’s television lineup, for better or worse; you can decide.

 

It’s right about now when the Democrats are taking a page from The Tonight Show playbook with their lead up to the November 2022 elections.

 

For the past six-years, Dems have been telling people that former President Trump was a Russian spy, a racist, a homophobe, a misogynist, and all-around bigot, and have recently expanded that list to an incompetent public health leader, as well as leader of an insurrection, all without merit.

 

Democrats would have you believe gas prices are in a good place, the economy is strong, employment is robust, abortions are in demand by 98% of Americans, and everyone wants to drive an electric vehicle.

 

They’re wrong.

 

But just as Carson’s hypnotist did the Democrats are desperately continuing their barrage of half-lies and total lies in an attempt to deceive Americans that they are not to believe their eyes or ears when it comes to the utter failings of their hare-brained policies and ideas.

 

This crush to alter reality will continue at last until the upcoming elections.  But don’t be fooled.  This is their way to “keep things fair.”

 

Sure it is.

 

Random Thoughts 10

 Good news and bad news: We now have gasoline selling at $4.85/gallon, our planet is only nine-years from extinction, and General Mark Milley and Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin are demanding our military troops conduct nicer wars. 

 

That means it’s time for more Random Thoughts.  Please enjoy them.

 

 

• Are those stupid hidden, secret singer shows still on television?
• Why do people continue wearing N-95 masks?
  
• With all this recession and inflation, the Biden Administration is raising taxes
• Can’t anyone else see that Putin is trying to draw the US into a war?
• Russians have been funding environmental problems for decades.  Who knew?
• Doesn’t Joe Biden’s wife know her husband is inept?
• Let’s save Iran the trouble and just give them a nuclear weapon
• Katanji Brown Jackson can’t describe a woman; her poor daughter, alas
• Now we’re supposed to expect food shortages from Biden?
• Vice President Kommie La Harris is a true gift
• Jake Sullivan must’ve gotten his job as the token white guy, by default.  He’s not very good at it
• Why does anyone except the condemned care if capital punishment hurts?
• So, the Left hates Elon Musk, the savior of the environment, because he’s rich
• Does Jen Psaki, aka: Colonel Rosa Klebb, expect her nose to grow if she tells the truth?
• Prepare yourself for more COVID restrictions come election time
• Mayor Pete’s over his twin birthing; now he expects us to buy electric vehicles
• Is Colin Kaepernick still begging to get back into the racist, slave-like NFL?
• I wish my nextdoor neighbor, The Skipper, was blessed with tact and manners
• Why is it important to teach 5-year olds about sex?
• AOC wants me to pay for her college education.  She should sue her college for a refund for making her dumber
• Does anyone realize men can get breast cancer, too?
• By the way, is Mayor Pete still lactating from his twin birthing?
• Can Dr. Jill Biden write me a prescription for Cyclobenzaprine?
• Smokey the Cat is too quiet; he’s up to no good
• Why not encourage “Pro Choicers” to have more abortions; it won’t be long before their sick cult vanishes from society
• Who did Neil Young sleep with to get his record contracts?
• Thank God Tiger Woods is playing golf again.  Just kidding
• The Dept. of Justice wants to prosecute “insurrectionists.”  What about prosecuting protestors who antagonize Supreme Court Justices?
• Is my new electric vehicle going to be charged by wind, the sun, or fossil fuels?
• How long before ALL children need therapy to reverse CRT, transsexualism, and hate for America?
• Why is no one upset the U.S. Government lied to us about UFOs? 
• Is Adam Schiff still not taking his meds?
• Maxine Waters looks really good for being 137-years old
• Fox broadcast needs a show about mimes; that’s the one last thing that annoys me more than Madonna and Bette Midler
• God bless Donald Trump
• Why is it dangerous and illegal to put a tube in a car tire?  Every NASCAR vehicle has tubes in their tires and they travel at 200+MPH
• An alleged January 6^th “insurrection” is terrifying because unauthorized GOP constituents roamed about the Capitol; is Stephen Colbert going to be guilty?
• Gravity seems to be President Brandon’s worst enemy – he just fell off his bicycle
• According to the White House high inflation is the fault of Americans
• CNN is apparently grabbing the water in which they are drowning in ratings
• Under Pete Buttigieg, Transportation Secretary, airplanes cannot land in rain.  Huh?
• It seems as though the only people angry about the Saudi LIV Golf Series are the ones who are too stupid to accept the money
• Karine Jean-Pierre is the perfect replacement for Jen “Circle-Back” Psaki; “inept” is the word
• What sport is swimmer Lea Thomas going to participate in now that he/she lost?
• When you mow your lawn, please don’t blow the grass into the street; it’s not as attractive as you think
• If your eye hurts while drinking coffee, take the spoon out of the cup
• Who convinced Cassidy Hutchinson to be a useful idiot?
• So, Janet Yellen wants a global minimum corporate tax rate, as the first female U.S. Treasury Secretary?  She may very well be the last, too
• I wish someone would send me a photo of a “LatinX”

 

 

That’s all I have for this iteration of Random Thoughts.  Thanks for visiting, and please return next week for more ‘free range’ opinions.

Coffee Maker

 Everyone is so persecuted.  I know this because I am well aware of labor unions and their effects on society.  Always eager to “help,” unions began righting wrongs of those persecuted, with the best intentions.

 

Labor unions are organizations that were designed to protect workers from corporate overlords literally working their employees to death.  Those unions were critical to the actual physical survival of workers in a variety of industries including mining, manufacturing, and transportation.

 

These are just a few of the many unions that remain active in the United States with origins in Europe to protect textile workers and miners from overly harsh companies and bosses.

 

In days of yore, too often, children were employed as mine workers, factory machinery operators, and general laborers, who put in too many hard hours of dangerous work for too little in benefits.  The obvious solution was to organize the workers and, by sheer numbers, create an appendage for the workers – something that had been lacking for decades.

 

Presidential input, public pressure, along with general empathy, exposed an environment long-ignored by greedy corporate magnates.  Workers united and, through strength in numbers – collective bargaining – were able to successfully make demands for better working conditions, enhanced benefits, and more money.

 

Being applauded by much of the lower- and middle-classes, labor unions eventually graduated from helping the lowly worker achieve safer and more humane treatment to becoming environmental activists and political shills – virtually all geared to helping the Democratic Party.

 

While one-sided in their support, unions have gravitated toward support from Democratic politicians who regularly, openly pander to union leaders, activists, and entire communities, with lofty promises – to be paid for with taxpayer monies.

 

“Icky” is an excellent word to describe this carnal relationship that demands a thorough cleansing after most demands are made for mo’ stuff.

 

Think about regularly traveled roads you take.  Everyday you dodge the same potholes, animal carcasses, orange construction cones and barrels, and overgrown medians, years in the making.  Although these avenues are unsightly, you realize there is a finite amount of tax dollars to address these issues.

 

Suddenly, one day enroute to work, you notice a new pave job, potholes vanished, and fresh painted lines plus newly mowed berms, create an almost pleasurable commuting condition for you and your fellow travelers.

 

Let me guess: it’s less than two-months before local elections.  Witness your tax dollars at work.  Anything for a vote.

 

That’s pretty much the way unions operate, too.

 

I was reared in a union town, and I witnessed it deteriorate from a world-known manufacturing center into a crime-ridden toilet.  This feat was accomplished with the help of both the unions and Democratic Party, alike.

 

This is a good time to stress that I am not pro-union nor anti-union; but today’s smarmy union-political affiliation has evolved into a mob-like operation, pressuring companies into strong-arm tactics, fleecing companies that are also known as: employers.

 

Speaking from experience, normally, people create a résumé, complete an application, or simply marry into a job.  Rarely do average people receive job offers from political agencies, corporations, or government entities; you need to apply.

 

That being said, let’s say we awaken every morning to make coffee and a modest breakfast.  I do.

 

Hi-tech coffee maker

While digesting my morning prescribed medications, my coffee is brewing to be extra strong.  I have several different types of coffee makers, to include a French Press, Italian Espresso percolator, automatic drip coffee maker, and a K-cup machine, to serve my caffeine needs.  None are difficult to operate.

 

In fact, my sainted wife also makes her morning cups of Joe, with ease, too.  It’s not as arduous as you may think.

 

Pour the appropriate amount of water into the coffee maker, add coffee grounds according to desired strength, wait until it brews, then enjoy.

 

I told you it was simple.  Of course, I don’t make coffee for a living, just for a daily defibrillator-type jolt.  It’s not a secret recipe that I use, either.  In fact, it’s actually printed on the outside of the coffee bag.  I’m sure it can be found on-line, as well.

 

But I enjoy making my own coffee because I can control the strength, type, flavor, size, and cost.  My coffee amounts to roughly 35¢ per cup, while major coffee shops sell a similar sized cup of coffee for somewhere in the neighborhood of $4 per cup.

 

Thank goodness this is not where the story ends, because I have so much more to say.

 

Just recently, I read a media article regarding the formation of a labor union branch to serve and protect baristas.  You see, baristas are snobby people who make expensive cups of coffee for wealthy people.

 

I’ve never actually spoken to a barista, but I dare say I have some opinions about them and their patrons, alike.

 

Sure, $4 per cup is bit extravagant for me, but evidently plenty of people are willing and able to fork over that kind of money for a pick-me-up brew, each day.

 

It seems as though baristas are decidedly overburdened with steam facials, coffee bean-stained aprons, and writer’s cramp, all in the name of caffeine and customer service.

 

Quickly drawing a line from slave-like treatment of young children miners of yore, to overpaid adults who gladly chose a career boiling water to transform coffee beans into Java, demonstrated pure genius in the war of words and ‘mistreatment’ demanding unionization.

 

Yet, the Starbucks Workers United is very comfortable with that line.  They evidently feel that brewing coffee, as a career, is just another rung on the ladder to canonization.  They are wrong.

 

The way I see it, making coffee requires little, if any, skill – other than those possessed by Smokey the Cat.

 

Here’s some free advice for any and all baristas: If you feel your job is so grueling that you need self-serving labor union to protect you, it may be time to find another job – a real job.  There are plenty out there.

 

Make your Mom and Dad proud by applying your college degree for something useful.

Keep Out!

In the spirit of multitasking, I am writing today’s story whilst on the road.

 

After a rough few years, what with the COVID-19 debacle, the “LEGITIMATE” ousting of President Donald Trump, and wading through the cesspool of Critical Race Theory, I felt I needed a nice vacation.

 

Just when I thought all the hysteria over spreading COVID, and wearing those stupid masks, I discovered I was wrong – really wrong.

 

A quick trip to Tallmart the other day brought me into close proximity of half the store shoppers wearing paper N95 masks.  Unfortunately, none of them would work if some super-spreader skateboarded down an aisle, coughing all the way.

 

Nearly all of those compliant sheeple had the ol’ N95’s dangling under their chins, or hanging off one ear, Biden-style.  But I digress.

 

In any case, my sainted wife is taking her turn driving, Smokey the Cat is confined in his cage, and I’m seated in the passenger seat with a laptop computer and a chilled dirty martini.  And we’re headed to Mexico!

 

None of us have ever been across the Southern Border and thought this would be an excellent time for a vacation.

 

Except for my sainted wife, none of the rest of our “crew” speaks Spanish.  My sainted wife often dazzles our neighbors and friends with her Spanish-speaking abilities, by counting from one through eight, in Spanish.  Ocho, by the way is eight.

 

Before you get ahead of this adventure, take a breath, another sip of coffee, and a drag from your Marlboro, before continuing.

 

We have friends who regularly vacation in Cabo San Lucas who enjoy regaling us with stories about pristine beaches, breathtakingly blue waters, and nearly perpetually pleasant weather.  Who could resist?

 

Certainly not us.  In fact, I’m ardently searching for a huge velvet sombrero in order to disguise me as a way to prevent countless Mexicans from vying for an autograph.

 

Be that as it may, I have an ulterior motive for heading south.

 

Only days ago, I fell out of my KnollStudio Cross Check chair when I heard a TV news story that yet another fifty-illegal aliens that had illegally trespassed across our border were getting bonus prizes for breaking America’s laws.

 

Many illegal aliens – all criminals because they failed to follow our laws – waded across the Rio Grande River, the tacit border between the USA and Mexico, to access the Land of Opportunity.

 

Once in the United States, Vice President Kamala Harris desperately desired to meet with these future American citizens.  Unfortunately, as she aptly once pointed out, ‘she hasn’t been to France, either.’ 

 

Whatever the hell that means, she is as lost in the jumbled world of geography as Smokey.

 

But here’s the fun part: these illegals, largely from South America, are loaded onto busses to be chauffeured to many other states.  New York, Illinois, Florida, California, are just a few that are chock full o’ Spanish speakers who can make their brethren feel welcomed.

 

VP Harris, whose one brief trip to Texas was more of a photo op than investigation of the ongoing invasion, continues to repeat the mantra that the “Southern Border is closed.”

 

It’s not, which is why we now have more than 2,000,000 illegal aliens having crossed that border since VP Harris’ boss, Joe Biden, assumed the office of the President in January 2021.  For the record, the aforementioned Biden is not the “Dr.” Biden in the family.

 

Here’s an interesting note: Many states and subsequent cities have proudly declared themselves “Sanctuary States, and Sanctuary Cities,” since the influx of all those lawbreakers who snuck across the country lines.

 

A quick look at the Oxford Dictionary’s definition of “sanctuary” reveals the word means “a place of refuge or safety.”

 

That should be enough information to settle any further discussion as to which guvment officials are condoning this nefarious behavior from non-citizens.  Again, it’s not.

 

Really smart people – most of whom are thought to be Democrats, Leftists, and other wannabe Commies – have all been cheering the sanctuary status of these various rogue government entities, for years.

 

Announcing that “all are welcome” and “no one is illegal,” these liberals have been back-slapping one another over creating a two-class environment from which they are immune.

 

Immune?  Yes, immune.  The anointed among us are tickled to appear to be open to the idea of illegal aliens – criminal miscreants – invading our cities, towns, and states, all in the name of inclusiveness.

 

However, the piousness mysteriously vanishes when their own gated communities, over-priced neighborhoods, and semi-remote islands find themselves taking in these needy asylum seekers.

 

To prove this point, Florida Guvnor Ron DeSantis offered fifty-illegals in Florida a trip to a lovely, posh island called Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts.  The Vineyard is home to Mr. and Mrs. Barack Hussein Obama, James Taylor, Carly Simon, Tom Rush, Maria Muldaur, David Letterman, Bill Murray, Bill Clinton, Meg Ryan, Quincy Jones, Larry David, and Chelsea Handler – among others – none of whom are likely Right-leaning.

 

Guvnor DeSantis thought it might be a nice gesture to offer a free trip to the fifty-illegals, to The Vineyard; after reviewing release forms, maps, and a travel itinerary, they boarded a private jet to fly them to the proverbial Promised Land.  Along the way, they were each issued a cell phone, gratis.

 

As if on cue, Gavin Newsom, Lori Lightfoot, Eric Adams, along with Sandy Cortez and other concerned racists immediately took to the airwaves and print media to complain about this generous gesture calling it “political” in nature.  Oh, my.

 

Others were bused to NYC, Chicago, and California, based on the will of the highly needy new guests to America. 

 

Suddenly, though, the red carpet was rolled up because, according to Newsom, Lightfoot, and Adams, there was no room within their jurisdictions for these refugees.  What is one to do?

 

The White House has repeatedly confirmed they have secured the Southern Border.  They also bragged that they “fixed” the mess former President Trump made and left for them to clean up.  Now what?

 

It seems as though a whole bunch of these drowning politicians are realizing their ship is sinking ahead of the November 2022 elections, and they need a lifeboat.  Their sharp stick in the eyes of conservatives and Republicans is the plan to save themselves.

 

Playing fast and loose with the truth for over a decade has finally caught up to those who hate America and Americans.  And judgment day is quickly arriving.

 

In the meantime, once my sainted wife, Smokey, and I get to Mexico I hope to be sent to Martha’s Vineyard, via private jet, and find sumptuous accommodations awaiting me, for nothing.  And a free cell phone.

 

 

Whipped Cream

 How many guvment agencies exist?  According to Forbes, “…no one can say with certainty anymore how many federal agencies exist.”  Oh, my.

 

Also known as the “nanny state,” over-control is not only intrusive, but also punitive.  Closely watching its inhabitant’s goings-on, such meddling is often embraced by the ‘you-know-whos.’  Credit card purchase snooping, tracking your driving, obtaining access to your cell phone, are all ways guvment likes to be uber-instrusive.

 

Think back to elementary school or high school or even your urban neighborhood.  There were always those sixth-grade kids who brought a pack of cigarettes to school.  The logical place to pass them out to fire them up was the Boys Room.  

By chance, the kid who ran back to tattle on us – uh, the other kids smoking and gagging – returned with a teacher.  Standing there coughing around a pile of lungs on the tile floor, we adventurers now had a good spanking waiting for us at home immediately after meeting the principal.  Thanks, you little Boys Room weasel.

It would be appropriate for those weasels to eventually become the directors of some, or most, of those intrusive departments and agencies, only to help make everyone else’s life as miserable as theirs.  But I digress.

You’re likely familiar with most, if not all, of the official United States guvment departments.  They were created over the centuries to better manage the machinations of running a country and continue to grow – almost exponentially – to the chagrin of most residents. 

Those departments are fertilized by bureaucrats with lofty ideas on how to not only manage the country’s affairs, but to control the populace for their own good. 

A short list of a few of those agencies includes the Departments of Justice, State, Defense, and Interior; those are then broken down into agencies.  For example, the Department of Justice is broken down into the FBI, Bureau of Prisons Drug Enforcement Agency, BATFE, etc.  And so it goes, ad infinitum.

It seems as though these guvment entities are all disciplinary, in nature.  In case you’re mentally wandering in an attempt to think about some that are not, please continue reading.

 

According to news reports, the FBI has been involved with manipulating elections for some years; the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives, are actively trying to outlaw the Second Amendment; the Department of Defense is blaming slavery and racism on its soldiers; the Department of Transportation blames White Americans for urban bridges that are allegedly keeping Blacks from going to the beach.

 

The Department of Treasury houses the ever-popular Internal Revenue Service, Secret Service, Bureau of Engraving and Printing, and the Committee on Foreign Investments in the United States.  The IRS is going to hire 87,000 more armed employees to better help you with your tax returns.  Wink, wink.

 

Not to worry, though.  There are plenty of Boys Room weasels who apparently now have federal jobs to continue their mission to get EVERYONE in America to hate them.

 

In Washington, D.C., Miriam Bowser, the Mayor, is claiming the influx of illegal aliens is causing her agita.  It’s not.  What is causing her angst and pains is her hare-brained plan that made Washington a “sanctuary city.”

 

Chicago, Ill., Mayor Lori Lightfoot, has been crying crocodile tears for years over the soaring crime rate.  She blamed White reporters for reporting only the bad news; perhaps they should have complimented the funeral floral arrangements for a more positive note.

 

Guvnor Gavin Newsom has turned a blind eye to smash-and-grab robberies, carjackings, and blatant shoplifting, all resulting in bankruptcies, mayhem, and death.  He went so far as to authorize free drugs and paraphernalia to addicts.  That’s deserving of the Nobel Peace Prize.

 

And so it goes with the guvment – from the local levels to the federal altitude – always having a solution, then searching for a problem.

 

New York Guvnor Kathy Hochul, just announced a solution: prevent anyone under the age of 21-years old from buying aerosol whipped cream.  Evidently, the 108,000 fentanyl-related deaths in 2021 are not as big an issue as those deaths from whipped cream.  An ardent interweb search revealed no statistics related to whipped cream.

 

In the spirit of helping, I propose establishing a much-needed NEW guvment department:

The Department of Enough Already.

 

Just a thought.

What Next?

 During a recent visit to the doctor’s office for a regular checkup he began with something new, at least new to me.

 

He started the visit with a question about my name, exactly expecting my full name – middle name included.  The next question was my date of birth, followed by my age.

 

Then he asked me what today was.  I aced the name part along with my birth date and advanced age.  But becoming more irritated by the moment, I barked out, “Friday,” when he queried me as to “today.”

 

“No!” he replied sternly.  “What is today’s date?” was his unvarnished demand.

Universal symbol of doctors

 

I didn’t know and I said so.  I explained that I wear a wristwatch to help me not only with the time, but the date, as well.

 

After some testy banter about cognitive abilities in the elderly, he insisted I should know the actual date of the day in which I awoke that morning.

 

Following a good tongue-lashing, I took my turn to calmly point out that I was sitting in his examination room largely because I was aware of this appointment.  Amen.

 

However, logic is not his strong suit and the banter began anew.

 

This is where I tried to tell him I found my way to my car, drove to his office without getting lost, and arrived on-time on the correct specified date. He was unimpressed.

 

He then tried another approach: the What Ifs Approach.

 

He posed another series of lame questions that also fell flat.  “What if it was a holiday and you needed to go to the bank?” he pried.  He pointed out, “It would be closed.”

 

“I don’t go to the bank,” I said; “I’m married and have no money,” was my best wise guy comeback.

 

And so we proceeded as though he had no other patients awaiting his attention.

 

“What if it was Election Day?  You might miss voting if you were unaware that Tuesday was unlike all the others,” he added, pointing his index finger as punctuation.  “I know how political you are; you’d hate yourself if you missed Election Day!

 

Indeed, I would.  But in the spirit of the times, and to quell his concerns regarding my elderly state of mind, I thought it was high time to do some ‘splainin’.

 

Through basic deduction, I realized we were closing in on November, in general, Election Day, in specific.  The shenanigans of the past two-years have been bordering on out-of-control insanity, largely being led by Democrats.

 

Shutting down oil and shale operations, forcing prices on EVERYTHING to skyrocket, being exposed for teaching racist lessons to children in elementary schools, forcing the total shut-down of free speech in America, bullying rational Republicans, attempting to force everyone to buy costly electric vehicles rather than houses, creating a shortage of tampons and computer chips, starving infants with a lack of baby formula, buying expensive foreign oil from despots, attempting to overturn The Second Amendment, opening the borders to illegal immigrants and terrorists, and trying to bargain with a known terrorist country Iran, I could tell we were months away from an election.

 

But with the White House, Congressclowns, smarmy Senators, and the mainstream media suddenly jumping off the sinking USS Brandon, I could smell we were approaching November of an election year.

 

Poor Vladimir Putin has been vilified by all above-mentioned members of the Democrat Brain Trust since before Donald J. Trump was elected President in 2016.  Lies, lies, and more lies have been the standard of Democrats and RINOs alike, who despise Mr. Trump.  Why?

 

People hate the last President because he can’t be bought, while his accusers are jealous and can be purchased for a few shekels.  And that doesn’t fare well.

 

With local and national primaries in full swing former President Trump has been largely successful in endorsing and selecting – with few exceptions – candidates for the upcoming mid-terms.  Now those arrogant Democrat incumbents are absolutely terrified that Trump’s clout is still intact.  And they should be.

 

Although the lies continue, and are even increasing, Democrats are running in overdrive to prevent a political bloodbath of their own making.

 

To combat this upcoming SHTF storm, we miraculously have a new proverbial boogeyman in the form of an international crisis.

 

Since the war in Ukraine failed to drag the United States into another “endless war,” the new calamity appears to be something called Monkey Pox.

 

Not being a medical professional, I only know what I read about this upcoming catastrophe.  Evidently, Monkey Pox is a disease spread by gay men.  Enough said.  I’ll stop writing here so that you may draw your own mental picture.

 

Unfortunately, World Health Organization (WHO) “experts,” the same experts that lied to us about the COVID-19 flu, are expecting us to believe them when they say this gay man’s disease makes everyone in the world susceptible.  It’s unfortunate because WHO officials are wrong.

 

In any case, Dr. Anthony Fauci, our home-grown medical professional fabricator, is urging caution.  Not unlike Nostradamus, I can see the near future and another round of questionable voting drop-off boxes, unresolved mail-in voting ballots, and deck-stacked poll watchers, in the November mid-terms.

 

So based on all this, and even more unbelievable contrivances likely in the works, I can actually taste the month of July.  July is only four months from Election Day and the scent of Republican victory wafts through the air like the sweet aroma of a fresh baked apple pie.

 

It was at this point I reached the door of my doctor’s office that he bid me a farewell and told him to remember to vote.  Our country’s future depends on our votes.

 

And I won’t get the day wrong.  I promise.