​Eh, I, oh, well…  Today, uh, we, I, eh…  I have been doing this little blog for almost two years. I have not missed a week due to having nothing to post. This week may be different. I was all set to write something inspirational titled, Hope is Not a Strategy. Then I realized that Bill Clinton came from Hope and I tossed the idea out the window. I also grow weary of composing hate-filled diatribes against this President and his corrupt family and administration. It only makes my restless nights a bit more restless and I weigh one outrage over another while tossing on my Sealy Posturepedic. So, I think today it will be a little different today I will talk about, eh, ah, uh…
 
Maybe I should take a minute to compose myself.
 
Okay, I’m back. So, how have you been? Are you going to get the shot? I think I will. Have to see. If it is anything like the shingles vaccine, we are all in for quite a ride. Okay, where were we? What were we talking about? Sir Sean Connery passed away. Did you know that Sean Connery passed on the role of Gandalf in Lord of the Rings? He said he didn’t understand it, so he passed, and it later became a great hit. That’s why he took League of Extraordinary Gentlemen as he didn’t understand it and because of this it would be a big hit. Well, that didn’t work out so well. So, he retired.
 
It is now December in Northern CA and we have had one day of rain, two if you are counting an additional day of heavy due with a side of mist. Not that I mind, sunshine but our fire season has now been extended from August to New Years. Think about that. This is a long time to have a go bag in your trunk.
 
As I ramble on, it will be interesting to see what you tube video I choose for the end of the blog. Much like this post, I literally have no idea of what I will include. It will most likely be music. As much as we all love funny cat videos, we have most likely seen them all. Same with the videos of guys getting hit in the balls, falling onto their balls or leaping onto a trampoline, hitting some object and it hits them in the balls. I do hear there is a video of Rudy Giuliani farting during a hearing. But, that’s officially politics and I am attempting to get away from that sort of thing.
 
Oh, well, I think that is about it for this week. Below is this week’s video. Even though I don’t know what it is, enjoy.
 

​And the posts get shorter, and shorter, and shorter. First, sorry about that but 10 months of quarantine will do that to a guy. How was your Thanksgiving? This year, the Linde’s cooked their bird on the new Traeger smoker. A mixed year of many reasons to feel blessed with still many more reasons to remain pissed off. While we do set time aside every year to talk ponder what we are thankful about, I believe it’s high time we gather around my old website and talk about some of the things that just piss us off. Don’t be shy. Hell, I’ll even start.
 
Pissgiving 2020
 
Top of the list has to be this pandemic. Preventable, no. Foreseeable and then ignored? Most definitely While we’re at it, lets all give piss to those who won’t wear a mask because it infringes on their personal freedoms. These are the very same people who once they have the disease, going on the news and telling everyone how wrong they were so that they will be first in line for a ventilator.
 
Piss off to Republicans who are liars, sycophants and possible traitors. Yes, you heard me, fucking traitors. Supporting one single person for one agenda and ignoring everything else that put the entire country at risk. Special Pissgivings to the skinhead enforcement officials who jumped at the chance to play Nazi stormtrooper and beat the hell out of peaceful protestors, seniors and moms against facism. You all know who I mean
 
Religious hypocrites and My Pillow founders. When I am confronted with a killer disease, I can think of no better person to turn to hucksters and guys who prefer to watch their wives’ fuck the pool boy. It increases my faith in not only the entrepreneurial spirit but the good o’ time religion. What better ace in the hole than predicting the end of the world as we know it if you don’t vote for the orange antichrist. 
 
A very special Piss Off to climate deniers and conspiracy theorists. While Northern California continues to burn to the ground and the number of hurricanes and tornados more than double, some people would still prefer to spend their time worrying about Democratic pedophiles, pizza parlors and lizard people. Believing in lizard people is far easier than the science of global warming.
 
I realize I left out the proud boys, the racists, misogynists, homophobes and a majority of haters. You know who you are. Before the pandemic today used to be small business Saturday. Well, because you all won’t wear a mask and have a desire to fly across the country making a very bad situation worse, I hereby declare this day November 28 to be Pissgiving 2020.
 
Maybe it will be cancelled next year. Somehow, I doubt it.

“Na na na na, na na na na, hey hey, goodbye."
Gary DeCarlo
 
This President is harder to get rid of than a world-wide pandemic. Bless his heart, he really doesm’t want to go. He reminds of my six-year-old daughter when Lion King was over and it was time to leave the parking lot. She screamed and cried it looked like kidnapping. Someone should send him a “If you love something, set it free,” embroidery kit. I mean he obviously has free time on his hands. It will give him something to do when he is not Twittering.
 
It has been all over the news but I do think it is worth calling out the Rudy G melt down. Honestly dude, I haven’t seen that much face paint since Circe Du Soeleil  award-winning performance of  Idiote.
 
On a lighter note, I finally got off my ass and joined Q. Some join for the Lizard People, some for the pizza. I joined for sheer exclusiveness of all those involved. In the words of the DJ Trump, “there are some fine individuals on all sides of that organization.” Jesus. I recall a simpler time when conspiracy actually attempted to cleaver. When if you merely had to rearrange the name of Henry Kissenger, adding up all the numbers and dividing it by pi, to uncover that he was the actual anti-Christ. Or, when the Queen of England was a drug pusher. Oh, the good ol’ days.
 
Okay, really switching some gears here so cover your ears from the grinding halt and u-turn. Have a couple of podcasts coming up which may be of interest to you. One will be recorded in December. Live from Arkansas, Tommy Hancock’s Pulped! And the other is called The Story Tellers from Vahalla Books. I listened to Tommy’s just last week and his knowledge on the genre of pulp stories of all kinds knows no limits.

In closing, I will leave you with this.

Happy Thanksgiving, Everyone!

​“Oh, what a feeling
When we're dancing on the ceiling!”
--Lionel Richie.

As true today as it was in 1986.

I continue to celebrate knowing full well that someone’s not able to indulge in his signature YMCA dance moves. In fact, he is most likely continuing to squirm in his dark hole, muttering to himself much like Gollum.

“They stole it, my precious. They tooks it from me and I needs to back so I don’t go to jail.”

This week was not without its share of stress but it did provide a few hearty laughs. Rudy in front of the Four Seasons…Landscaping provided much needed entertainment as well as the fake news reporting of still more White House Covid Staff infections from another Super Spreader Victory Party in the middle of the night where victory was declared. All of this was topped off on Friday with DJT himself emerging out of the bunker and the sunlight with a fresh crop of white, wispy hair along with a new set of allegations. I can only imagine that he has been spending most of his time with repeated viewings of the Kevin Hart/Will Farrell preparing for prison movie, GET HARD. It is the Christmas season and sometime soon we should see the naughty and who’s nice list of Presidential Pardons. Gee, I wonder who will make the top of the list?

And shooting to #1 with a bullet, the orange ass-wipe, 45 himself!

Meanwhile, William Barr is swinging away like it’s Kent State in 1966, kicking ass and taking down cherished institutions like the Justice Department staying out of investigating free and fair elections. Who needs Russia when you have this Baby Huey of a henchman doing your dirty work? Peaceful Protestors in your way? Not for long, you anarchist dickwads. Let me call out the military and clear that shit out. Meanwhile, Law firms are ditching the presidential cause quicker than rats from the Lusitania. I understand some of them might not even get paid. Gee, that’s a surprise. Maybe they should have thought about that when they accepted a fool for a client.

Then there is that brilliant thinker and historian, Alabama Republican Tommy Tuberville who claimed that World War 2 was waged to fight Socialism. Not to mention his version of the three branches of government.

“You know, the House, the Senate, and the executive.”

Jesus, were these waterheads too busy fucking their cousins to attend 6th grade? I’m not asking for a friend, I asking on behalf of an entire country.

Okay, until next week, I leave with a bit of the happiness we all shared last Saturday. Enjoy!

​As a public service, I thought it my duty to deliver the subtext of our President, Donald J. Trump’s, last press conference of November 5, 2020. For the sake of accuracy, I have included all of the subtext word for word and only presented it in all CAPS when insisted by the President.

“(Opening three-ring Presidential binder)

Good afternoon. I can’t go to prison. Perhaps that has not been made apparent by the countless books, the DA of New York and all of the fine people, lawyers and investigators that I have fired in the last four years. I would not do well in prison, even one of those Federal ones with the tennis courts. Suburban women may not like me, but convicted felons are not fond of me either. In fact, I think they would take great pleasure in hating me and this causes me great distress. The prison system as it exists today frowns on the use of adult diapers. Did I happen to mention that? They hate they bigly. All of the guards and my fellow cons will make fun of me just like they did in military school and that would be unacceptable. I’m just saying this as a reference point as to why I am protesting so vehemently about not winning this election.

Did I mention Deutsche Bank? They are moving me on me like a bitch, threatening to foreclose on my billions of dollars of loans. If I remain President, I don’t have to pay those loans, Maybe I will die in office and all that debt will fall on my kinds, Donnie Jr and Eric. I hear the Adderall you get in prison has been cut down. I need my Adderall to have a kick, you know? I get mine from my own physician in the White House. It’s great shit, man. I hear will have to share a doctor with all my fellow inmates and that scares me, man.

Did you ever see Escape at Dannemora on Amazon Prime? I get the streaming service free at the White House. That movie fucked me up, man. Prison is a nasty place. Although they do have cough syrup cocktails that look pretty tasty. And they also have a tailor shop. I did not know that.

In closing, I will sum up. I can’t lose this election and go to prison. I owe lots of money to some bad-ass people and the minute I step out of the White House, the shit will hit the fan. Seriously, I am not lying for once. Some Russian crime boss could even kill me. And I don’t trust the Saudi’s. Sure, they’d be all friendly at first, Hey, Mr. Ex-President, come live with us. And, I’m like sure, why not? Then one day, they invite me over for couscous
(slicing a forefinger across his throat) and that’s all she wrote. (Closing his binder) Thank you.”

​As is evident, I am obsessed with this election, fretting constantly to where we got to a place in this country where if a certain candidate does not win a small but vocal group of meatheads threatened the rest of us with the probability of a new Civil War. Not exactly a fodder for relaxing and restful sleep. I think often of how we got this way and I keep coming back to the turning point of this whole mess. No, not Ronald Reagan. Although Ronnie did release the throngs of mentally challenged individuals back into our streets, we need to go back a bit further. I speaking of a man named Howard Jarvis, the “we are being taxed to death” ass-wipe. His whiskey-soaked and tobacco throated battle cry was soon answered by other childless and retired homeowners who decided for everyone else that the cost of good schools and an excellent education was just too high. First to go was the arts, followed closely by athletics and all other extracurricular scholarly pursuits. It didn’t take long before classrooms got larger and lessons became easier and we the students, got just plain stupider. 
 
I don’t blame rap, comic books or even comic book movies, although I do believe that movies overall during the last twenty years have mostly catered to the lowest common denominator. Most of us do not read, shun newspapers and get their intellectual fodder from social media such as Facebook. For every one person who does read a newspaper, I will give you 25 more who follow Q Anon and religiously watch and follow Fox News.
 
We truly get the government we deserve. We certainly did in 2016. The question is, do we have a chance to turn it all around. Maybe. Quite frankly, maybe not. We have three more days until November 3rd.  A final chance to maybe climb out of this tub of shit that we placed ourselves in. Most of you have already voted, and are like me, huddled in a corner, a thumb in your mouth fretting over where you should race over to the nearest Bass Sporting Goods Store to pick up a pump action shotgun or a Walther PPK.  What do you think?

“Walther PPK, 7.65 millimeter, with a delivery like a brick through a plate-glass window. The American CIA swear by them.”
Sir Sean Connery
August 25, 1930 - Oct 31, 2020. Rest in Peace

​Well, not exactly cholera, but still shoulders deep in a pandemic, saddled beside the worst presidency of anyone’s lifetime, so, much like anytime served in a soviet gulag, finding a good belly laugh can be difficult. Rest assured, they are out there and hella easy to find.

I get most of my truly great laughs nowadays from the exploits of those currently in power. Let’s face it, the current administration is the Dead End Kids of politics. Whether it’s storming off an interview with Lesley Stahl from 60 Minutes, or hawking magic potions that can cure us all of COVID, they are always up to something. Shakespearean in scope, tragic in results and comical in everything they do, this is the administration of Donald J Trump. These are the times we live in so as ready to paint lamb blood on our doors November 3rd while praying for a redeemer, let’s all take a collective breath and celebrate some of the good times we all shared.
Rev. Falwell in a corner of the room, masked in shadow, peering around a corner while his sacredly betrothed wife gets it in on with a Florida pool boy. And, while we’re at it, how about his picture which he was stupid enough to post to social media with his pants undone and his arm around a female half his age. Honestly, I’d say these jokes write themselves but they’re not so much jotted down but unfold before our disbelieving eyes like a full blooming flower.
 
And it is worth noting, this is the Family Values Administration.
 
How about the cajones of one Steve Bannon, Seinfeld producer, Breitbart founder, Presidential Advisor and a man who never tires going on about that the rights of the forgotten American male? He was busted for mail fraud aboard a yacht, selling shares for portions of the government funded wall. I guess it was much like buying a brick with your name on it at a sport’s arena, accept you get the bragging rights to an entire portion of wall. 
​
​There’s Roger, tattoo of Nixon on his back, Stone sharing his wife and MILF on a sex-sharing site.
 
And don’t forget Trump joking to share his Press Secretary with the President of North Korea.
 
And the list goes on, and on and on…
 
But my favorite, the cherry on the top of this vile mess of corruption:

Rudy “The Red Skull” Giuliani. The personal lawyer of the President and confidant, laying on a bed with his hands halfway down his pants while a girl who he believes is 15 stands close by. 
Tucking in his shirt, is the excuse. A blatant disregard to norms, laws and morals is the reason. His blatant act sort of sums up the last four years for me.  

Drain the swamp. Lock him/her up. Hunter Biden. These are all deflections of what has been going on the last four years as fat, corrupt, billionaires raped and pillaged you and this country. 

Remember all that and vote!
 

​So, in this never-ending onslaught of rogue viruses, vile politicians and ongoing threat of death by raging wildfire, I find myself returning to the only place where I can find any lasting inner peace, the film adaptation of Hello Dolly starring Barbara Streisand. In the last few weeks I find myself returning more and more, like some crazed heroin addict jonesing for yet another hit of Babs.I don’t even really how I ended up in such dire straits. One minute I’m minding my own business attempting to find out when the 2nd season of Mandalorian starts, the next I’m putting on my Sunday clothes because I feel down and out. 
 
I really do need help. While normal people have tunes such as Ran$om by Lil Tecca echoing around in their head, I have Before the Parade Passes By and It Only Takes a Moment slowly eating away at my brain stem. While record numbers fearing the Apocalypse stand patiently in line at Bass Pro Shops to get a handgun, I am perusing Amazon for a decent priced Dolly Blu-Ray.
 
It certainly doesn’t make any sense and I can’t even try to explain it. For God’s Sake, Walter Matthau sings for Christ’s sake! I’m at my wits end. I have even attempted imputing different musicians in hopes of purging Jerry Herman from my brain cavity. But, it’s no use. Babs isn’t going anywhere. And it’s getting worse. Tomorrow I’ll be driving around my neighborhood, Hello Dolly flags fluttering from the bed of my pickup with Just Leave Everything to Me blaring from the stereo speakers. 
 
Please consider my cry of, “Look, I’m dancing!” as a cry for help.

Editors Note: It was bound to happen. But let's face facts. It's either vote this orange piece of shit out now or, God forbid and he does not leave peacefully, go all French Revolution on his ass. 

As my burning,  all consuming hatred for our current President, Donald J Trump grows like a raging Northern CA wildfire, I feel it is only fitting that I post some of my favorite images of said bastard as a way of celebrating my loathing for this most despicable human being ever to infest our planet. I have utilized all of the following images faithfully, attaching them to tweets directed to the president and are usually accompanied by my sincerest wish that he “fuck off” very soon.  I am proud to say that since posting said verses,  I’ve not been banned from the Twitterverse and can only assume that a good number of you feel the same way. Posting such wishes with unbridled enthusiasm does, however, carry some degree of risk. But, what the heck. He stays, like the rest of you like minded haters, it’s full on sprint to the nearest border.
​

Pictured: A rather tame sample of my daily tweets to a tyrant

In closing, he really is a useless bag of racist, orange shit.
 
Anyway, without further adieu, I present my favorite Presidential Portraits of Donald J. Trump. Who knows they may even end up in his Presidential Library. And, if things go my way, the library will be located in Dannemora Maximum Correctional Facility.
 
​

​Introducing the new seasons of Northern California: 
 
Dry Winter, Early Summer, Hot Summer and my least favorite season of the year, Fire. Most of you know it as good ol’ fashioned fall; a time when the leaves turn to a golden rust and drop from the trees and only to be raked for fear of the soggy droppings clogging up the storm drains. The leaves in Northern CA turn as well; to a crackling, dry consistency of an overcooked potato chip, shattering at the slightest touch. The sky is never the cold, dark of an impending rain shower but mostly from a lack of visible sun. We do have an ever-present ash, gently falling, collecting in the tops of our cars, dusting the streets and sidewalks our neighborhoods and collecting in the deep recesses of our lungs. Doesn’t it just make you just want to go outside and make a snow angel? This is our 3rd fire for us. Like hurricanes, the scientists and fire fighters have names for the hellish infernos now. This one closest to us is called, “Not another fucking fire,” and is two percent contained.  
 
In short, life is pretty much as it was presented in the movie, Interstellar. All that is missing is the corn. I tell you this not for your sympathy but to gently nudge you toward the conclusion that things are changing. The earth has become irate, consistently probed, choked, raped and pillaged. Her jungles have been cleared, her forests “managed,” her water exploited, her crust baked, a growing number of native species made extinct. And still there are people who say that this is all normal, that the earth will remarkably bounce back. Well, maybe the earth will, in a million years or so. Call me cynical, but I don’t think we will. Maybe that is a good thing. Lately, as a species, we seem pretty anxious to prove that we’re not worthy to be stewards of something that was once so wonderful. Civilization is hurtling toward the world of Soylent Green, Interstellar and Running Man and we choose to ignore it in favor of the conspiracy rambling of a group of called Q. Jesus, we deserve what we get. 
 
There are, no doubt, a few of you that believe, well why you don’t you just stop living there. You can always move. And, if we can find someone to buy a house teetering on the precipice overlooking hell itself, we will. If we do move, it will most likely buy us a year or two. I am of the firm belief, and I am sure a few scientists will back me up on this, that soon the seasons all over the world will be changing. It doesn’t take Randy Quaid and the director of Independence Day to convince me of that. I see it every day. It seems Mother Nature is calling out to us, “You can run, but you can’t hide, mother-earth fuckers.” Maybe that is why most of my fellow citizens prefer to bury their heads in the sand. The view is better down there.

Deep breath!  
​
Okay, and now for a tiny bit of good news. Another great review of Son of Ravage from the legendary comic book and pulp fiction writer, Ron Fortier. It will not put out any fires but is certainly appreciated.  Thanks, Ron!

And, BTW, message recieved. It’s hangar, not hanger.