audio — pardon me

Posted in audio versions ---- the talkies on July 25th, 2017 by skeeter
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Pardon Me!

Posted in rantings and ravings on July 24th, 2017 by skeeter

It’s only been six years since Inauguration Day. Oh, wait, six months. That feel like six years. And already the Comb-over-in-chief is examining whether or not he can pardon his family and friends and possibly himself for the inevitable verdicts that are coming down the pike faster than jobs are leaving the country. You have to keep pinching yourself to see if this is all some weird dream, something you’ll wake up from and find Hillary Clinton in the White House. Benghazi Benghazi, the war chant of the same folks who can’t find it in their conscience to demand much of anything when it comes to Trump’s malfeasance. Lock her up! Lock her up!

Keep pinching yourself, it isn’t Hillary who’s headed for prison. And yeah, the guy who will be is already looking for his escape route. You can lie all you want selling real estate and name brand to the money boyz in New York and Moscow, but lying under oath, especially to the FBI and the Special Prosecutor, good luck with that. Ask Bill Clinton. Sexual dalliance is one thing, but lying won’t cut it. Give him credit, though, he never planned to pardon himself. That tactic is reserved for the doomed and Bill was never one to see himself as the victim. Donald, oh yeah, he sees himself as something he never dreamed, the recipient from a thousand bullies’ attacks. So unfair! Bad!

The noose is tightening every day and you can hear the screams of anguish from the White House at 4 a.m. every morning clear out here on the Left Coast. The legal beagles he’s hired evidently didn’t counsel him to stay quiet on the subject of executive pardons. He might as well stop tweeting now and plead the fifth, ditch the attorneys and save some time and money. Nobody who is innocent would be considering pardoning himself, let’s quit fooling ourselves. A written confession might be slightly more damning, but in the absence of that or Mueller’s future indictments, I think a jury of his peers will need pardoning too, but for the jury of us citizens, the only question now is the sentencing.

Personally, I’d be okay with a pardon. Just leave office in Abject Shame, the Trump brand forever synonymous with Lying Loser. Send him back to his gold palace and ban him from public appearances for the rest of his self-absorbed days. Put an asterisk in the history book in the blank space for 43rd President of the United States. * Unindicted Co-conspirator. Pardoned by Himself. No Memorable Legislation.

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audio — thank god for o.j. simpson

Posted in audio versions ---- the talkies on July 23rd, 2017 by skeeter

Thank God for O.J. Simpson!

Posted in rantings and ravings on July 22nd, 2017 by skeeter

Thank God for O.J. Simpson! For six sick months we’ve wallowed in story after story of our President’s, let’s be kind here, missteps. Day after day of wretched lies, fumbled opportunities, tweeted outrages, bullying accusations, the continuous and endless tantrum of a six year old spoiled brat in the body of a Michelin Man doughboy, but now, my fellow Americans, our long national nightmare is over. O.J. is dominating the news!!

Okay, so maybe the national nightmare isn’t actually over, but … for a while, brief or not, we can turn our short little attention spans to pulp fiction, not political fiction. O.J., he of the small glove, will certainly supplant Donald, he of the small hands. And can’t we all, Republicans and Democrats, Libertarians and KKK, can’t we all agree on this: O.J. is back and bigger than ever!! He’s getting out of prison after 9 long years in exile. And boy, do we need the Juice in these difficult times.

Here comes the man we’ve learned to love to hate, a tabloid villain, a rags to riches to jailcell story not only made for TV but made for day in and day out viewing. Remember the freeway caravan down through Los Angeles, dozens of squad cars following respectfully as the big man wove through linebackers and tacklers and SUV’s and rush hour traffic. You don’t? Never mind, we’ll be rewinding that game footage for you and everyone else. Johnny Cochran? Judge Ito? That little stoner what’s his name, Kinky or Kreepy, the Southern California surfer dude without a board? Get ready, he’s back, they’re all back. F. Lee Bailey, hey, bet you forgot F. Lee. He’s back too, the whole gang is back.

I don’t know how long the networks can run reruns on this, dissect the parole hearings, interview the victim’s parents one more time, recap the crime, analyze the trial, review his last crime trying to recover his trophies or whatever he was trying to recover. Fox News should be able to take it down the field for very long yardage and CNN can run exclusive coverage for a week at least. Unless N. Korea nukes us and they’re forced to interrupt with breaking news. Donald J. who? Duck? Health care repeal and replace? Ho ho. What we need to know is where was that knife hidden, O.J., and how does it feel to be a free man again and what will you be doing now that you’re with us once again? America turns its needy eyes to you, buddy, and hey, thanks, glad you’re back!!


audio — alexa, will you please turn off

Posted in audio versions ---- the talkies on July 21st, 2017 by skeeter
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Alexa — Will You Please Turn Off?

Posted in rantings and ravings on July 20th, 2017 by skeeter

Sarah and I were down at the Suds and Duds laundromat doing what our own machines wouldn’t do last week. Mine was leaking water from somewhere in its enameled casing and Sarah’s just wouldn’t turn on anymore. While we were idling over the noise of washers and dryers, we got to complaining about life in the 21st Century, a favorite pastime for us South Enders. Sarah had a bottle of wine discreetly hidden in a paper bag and I was working through a six pack of beer I’d picked up on the way to the Suds and Duds at Tyee Store. We made quite the pair.

“So I bought one of those gizmos,” she was telling me, “you know, the little canister that has a brain. Alexa.” I shook my head, no, not sure what she was referring to. “It’s a device, Skeeter, to hook up all your other gizmos. Answers questions, puts on songs you request, orders stuff online. Seriously, you never heard of this?” she asks and pours herself another glass of merlot from the paper bag. I assured her I had not. “Some people put one of those in half the rooms in their house.”

“So it’s like a TV remote?” I asked, quite the Neanderthal. And popped my third bottle. I could see my sheets spinning in the big Maytag, round and round, only another quarter hour or so, then I could go home to my broken washer and my deviceless home.

“No, it’s not like a TV remote,” she said in a voice a mom would use on an exasperatingly stupid kid. “It’s like a computer that listens and learns. It figures out your likes and dislikes. Plus it answers all the questions you can throw at it. Like a talking encyclopedia. But here’s the thing,” she whispers, lowering her head close to mine, as if we weren’t the only two people in the place. “It listens to you all the time.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean it hears what you’re saying. The other day I was talking to a neighbor over coffee and I mentioned the washer was busted. An hour later my computer started getting ads for appliances. Washers on sale.” She said it was no coincidence. It had started happening all the time. “Now,” she told me, “I’m afraid to turn it on. I unplugged it. And I’m still not sure it isn’t listening.”

“So it’s sending all this back to Headquarters?” I asked, not sure where headquarters might actually be. Sarah nodded, took a long hard pull on the wine, looked nervously around the laundromat, the poster child for Artificial Intelligence Paranoia. “They’re listening, Skeeter. They’re keeping tabs on us. Right now they just want to sell me a washer dryer combo, but I don’t know what else they’re thinking about.”

A truck pulled up to the front door. Sarah pulled away from me like she’d been hit with the voltage from a cattle prodder, like this Alexis thing had commandeered a vehicle and come to check on her. Maybe ask if she needed another bottle of merlot ordered and then delivered by drone. By the looks of her, she could use two. I figured I had time for maybe one more beer.

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audio — the 25th amendment

Posted in Uncategorized on July 19th, 2017 by skeeter
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The 25th Amendment

Posted in rantings and ravings on July 18th, 2017 by skeeter

There’s a lot of chatter lately about removing the Mad King from office. Insanity, they say, is grounds for dismissal. The Democrats mostly want the Presidency restored to its former glory, made great again, the Republicans are afraid the Trumpster’s constituency will come after them with pitchforks and Confederate flags. I hate to admit it, but the GOP have a well-grounded fear of reprisal. We all should.

Half this Land of the Free Home of the Brave voted for this guy, not because they didn’t understand the crudity of the real estate developer, not because they thought he would be high minded, not because they couldn’t see he was a pussy grabbing dog whistler. He told you so himself. He went before the Christian Right and professed his sins, not confessed them. They went right ahead and voted for the sinner. Anyone who thought he would change his ways once he was elected probably had bought a bridge from him in New Jersey. The rest of us knew what we were getting.

So now we got what we were getting. Hell no, I don’t like it. Hell yes, I’d like to jerk the jerk right out of the White House, haul him up on any and all charges Mueller can make stick and hope Mike Pence doesn’t offer clemency under the bogus defense that it would irrevocably cripple the nation. Mike Pence doesn’t give a fig in Hades about what would hurt the nation. He’s a lap dog with ambitions to be the lap. Personally, I’ll take the Mad King.

But here’s the deal, artless or no: the citizens of this experimental democracy voted in a vicious little nutcase. They listen to hot talk radio and read faux news that says the real news is phony. They believe what they want to believe and how do you convince them otherwise? It isn’t quite the definition of crazy, but it’s close enough for me. We elected the Man of Our Times. Crass, sexist, narcissistic, oh cripes, why list them again, the huckster is known to all of us. He’s the sinister little voice in the back of our heads that whispers go ahead, do what you want, anything goes, there’s no punishment, just reward. Lash out, you’ll feel better. Knock the old lady to the sidewalk, she’s been asking for it. Never ever pull your punches, that’s for losers. It’s dog eat dog, baby, and you better sharpen the canines.

The 25th Amendment as a remedy for this? C’mon, you’ll need an amendment to stop the ignorant from voting. Welcome to democracy circa 2017. Welcome to the New America. You huddled masses, if you’re tired or poor, it’s your own fault, go home or shut up.

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audio — let them eat cake

Posted in audio versions ---- the talkies on July 17th, 2017 by skeeter
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Let Them Eat Cake … or Twinkies

Posted in rantings and ravings on July 16th, 2017 by skeeter

Let Them Eat Cake … or Twinkies

“We built a program to solve the problem of malnutrition in America, and now we have a problem of obesity,” Rep. (R) Steve King said recently, referring to Michele Obama’s nutrition in schools program.

What Mr. King is suggesting is that we build the border wall using the money from food stamps as well as the defunding of Planned Parenthood. King wants that wall built and he’s happy to use EBT card money to get the job done. After all, he says, the nutrition program of Michele Obama’s school program worked so well that now the poorest citizens are overweight. Thanks a lot, Michelle! You’re probably responsible for the diabetes epidemic in America too. Why aren’t we investigating your role in the murder of innocent people across this once great nation? And why isn’t Trump tweeting on this?

We elect these folks. My fellow Americans elect these people. Yours too, by the way. These are the people who want to end Medicaid and substitute health care you can choose, not something dictated to you by the damn government. Of course it will cost more, a lot more, but when you reach the point you can’t afford to buy it, that’s your decision, see? That, claims Paul Ryan, Speaker of the House, is freedom. Freedom to choose.

It’s like those school lunch programs Michele inflicted on our kids. Maybe they wanted desserts and pizzas washed down with Coke, not vegetables and fruit washed down with milk. Freedom of choice, freedom to eat what they want. Fast food vs. nutritious fare. Let the little tykes pick what tastes good to them. That’s the American Way. Not government intervention. Not a nanny state. Maybe offer them cigarettes too and a couple of shots of Jack Daniels. More options, good. Less options, bad. Land of the Free, see?

Same thing with science. Why shove evolution down our kids’ throats? Why not let them choose to study Creationism? Or witchcraft? Why limit their educational options? Why make those miners’ children in Kentucky study Global Warming when all those faux scientists’ claims will kill their daddies’ jobs? Doesn’t seem fair, doesn’t seem right.

Pity the fat kids Michele’s nutrition program created. We can’t help them now, but maybe we can help the next generation of children. Let’s take away their food stamps and cut out the Medicaid. They’ll thank us for creating new choices for them. Tough love, I know, but compassionate conservatism has to be.

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