Penny for Your Thoughts.

Penny Palfrey, a 49 year-old Australian grandmother of two, stepped into the water and set off from Havana, Cuba on Friday in an effort to swim 103 miles to Miami. She is doing it without snorkel, flippers or wet suit. Oh by the way, she is also swimming without a shark cage, even though much of the trip is through heavily shark-infested waters.

Chief Justice John Roberts also swam through shark-infested waters this week, by being the deciding opinion in the history making decision that kept the Affordable Care Act pretty much intact and gave The President a decisive win against the do-nothing Republican House, maniac Tea Party loons, and the red state reactionaries. In what was clearly a reasonable, well thought out opinion, Chief Justice Roberts essentially told the Veruca Salts of the Right that, like the character in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, you don’t always get what you want by simply demanding “I want it NOW!” in  the petulant tone of a spoiled baby.

Of course, Veruca Palin, Veruca Cantor, Veruca Limbaugh and the rest of the flock stomped their feet and threatened to hold their breath until they turned blue. They branded Chief Justice Roberts a traitor and immediately vowed to begin an effort to repeal the law that the Supreme Court deemed Constitutional. Forget the fact that it passed both Houses of Congress and was signed by the President; the Verucas wanted it their way and thought that Roberts was the just the guy to give it to them.

Meanwhile, Penny Palfrey swims her way to Miami, “excited and a little nervous”, as she moves toward her goal one stroke at a time. She estimates the trip should take anywhere between 40 to 60 hours. She is swimming in the wake of Tropical Storm Debby, so calm seas are not guaranteed

President Obama knows a little about stormy seas too. When a good portion of his own party backed away from the healthcare plan because they were afraid of the political fallout if The Supreme Court had ruled against it, the President stood firm and risked it all, because, as he says, “it’s the right thing to do”. Both Roberts and the President put country first this time, while the Verucas called them traitors, socialists, incompetents and Lord knows what else.

The President, like Penny Palfrey, sees his journey as a series of strokes, each one leading toward a goal. He fought the Right on bailing out the auto industry and won. Now it is well on its way to being healthy again. He fought for TARP, and staved off another Great Depression. He promised to get Bin Laden and he did. Unemployment is coming down, albeit slowly. He introduced a number of programs to help those who are underwater in their mortgages get back on their feet, and it seems to be working. And has pushed relentlessly for a bill to begin rebuilding our crumbling infrastructure; one stroke at a time.

Unlike the President however, Penny Palfrey is not alone out there. She has a crew of 15, who protect her from sharks, provide medical assistance and keep her hydrated and nourished. With all this help, she must be a socialist, no? No one who works with her is asking her political affiliation. Instead, they are working as a team for the greater good of the mission. The Verucas, on the other hand, would be sitting in their ivory towers after having dumped her into the ocean to fend for herself and rowed back to the country club just in time for cocktail hour. But if by some miracle she survived, they’d have been the first to greet her at the shore, touted the indomitable human spirit to the cameras, and claimed that this great feat could never happen in an Obama Presidency.

Yesterday, while Penny put one stroke in front of the other, President Obama made his way to Colorado to inspect damage done by the wildfires out there. He didn’t fly over it in a helicopter the way George Bush did when Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. He walked among the ruins. He didn’t ask whether or not they were Republicans or Democrats, he just declared the entire area a disaster zone and promised Federal aid.

Now the Verucas would (and did) say that it was a purely political move, and maybe there’s some truth to that. But aside from George Bush, I cannot remember a president in my lifetime who didn’t visit the site of a natural disaster. These visits demonstrate leadership and unity. They are designed to let all of America know that we are one people who work for the greater good; one stroke at a time. I guess the Verucas would have just let the whole state burn up though, because to offer assistance that came from tax monies might be deemed socialist. But President Obama did what presidents are supposed to do, which is to lead by example.

The Verucas, Palin, Limbaugh, Hannity, O’Reilly, Beck, Cantor, McConnell, et al, have one goal; to continue to foment discontent in America. That is how they make their millions. They need you to be riled up to insure that they have a means to continue to make the very substantial living they do. It sells books and coffee mugs. Your anger brings them huge speaking fees. They are the 1% and don’t give a rat’s ass whether you have health insurance or not. And they do it one stroke at a time. 

“Each swim comes with its own challenges; this is a really big challenge”, says Penny Palfrey. So too does each generation, I think. But it takes a visionary and not a Veruca to understand the challenge and rise to the occasion.

The Verucas want the United States to return to a white-dominated male society. Oh sure, they talk about freedom and democracy for all, but trust me when I say that all of that seems to go out the window when it gets to the backyards of the elite. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that the color of America is changing. And all the lashing out at President Obama is merely a reaction to giving up two hundred and thirty six years of Veruca rule. They want their power back, and they want it now. True freedom and democracy may be slow to evolve, but eventually it does; one stroke at a time.

So they can demonize Chief Justice Roberts for upholding the Constitution. They find Attorney General Eric Holder in contempt in Congress, stalemate and block any attempts at real change in America. They can question and re-question the birthplace of our President.  They can bad mouth, tear at, backbite, bluster and filibuster all they want, but they can’t change what’s happening here. It’s changing; one stroke at a time.

For those who want to opt out and follow the libertarian way, please, by all means go right ahead. Think of all the money the rest of us will save when the small government folks stop using Federal money for disaster relief, roads, armed forces, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, Education, Environment, and any other services they currently take advantage of. Why, the deficit will be gone in no time!  

I haven’t mentioned Mitt Romney’s role in all of this. I want to thank him for two reasons-- First, for giving President Obama the role model for the Affordable Care Act. Without his tireless efforts, the idea of the individual mandate might never have made it to the Supreme Court. Second, I want to thank him for having offered absolutely no plans to deal with the issues that President Obama has so ably demonstrated he is capable of dealing with over the last three years. It should be an interesting debate this fall to hear exactly what he believes, although that may change three or four times before then.  

Finally, I hope that Penny Palfrey makes it to Miami safe and sound. She is a courageous person and a true role model for women and men everywhere because she believes that large, seemingly impossible goals can be achieved with stepping into the water first and with unwavering tenacity and courage, arrives at the place she’s imagined.

For the Verucas in total, I wish I could say the same for you. And for Veruca Palin in particular, a while ago you asked America how that “hopey changey thing” was working out for us. All in all, I’d say, pretty damned good. And like Penny Palfrey and our President, we’re doing it one stroke at a time.

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat. Abbondanza!

You Got Spunk? They Hate Spunk.

Who can turn the world on with a smile? Who can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile? President Obama, that’s who!

Unless you’ve been under a rock all week, you probably know by now that on Wednesday, my President came out in favor of same-sex marriage, exactly one day after North Carolina voted to amend their constitution which now defines marriage as the union between one man and one woman.

WAY TO STICK IT TO EM’, MR. PRESIDENT! These right wing crazies need to understand that they are in the minority and that America is a country that embraces diversity. What’s more, you’ve shown everyone a lesson on tolerance and acceptance and...wait, wait...something’s wrong here.

Who am I to be reveling in the refreshing candor of a politician who is obviously using this as a campaign ploy designed to pander to one-tenth of the population of the country? Why, If I want to rub North Carolina’s face  with the gooey icing of my patented cream cheese frosting that sits proudly atop my freshly baked victory carrot cake, wouldn’t that make me a lowly, jealous and angry slug of a human being? I mean, if I did the happy dance over taking away someone’s right to take away someone’s right, am I not reducing myself to their level of inhumanity?

Well, hell yeah I am. But who cares? For the first time in the history of this country, the person at the very top of the political food chain has stood with us on this issue. And so to the people of North Carolina I proudly say, suck it!

If ever Americans needed a clear line of demarcation between the strength and character of this President and Mitt Romney, this was it.  With those few sentences, my President proved once again that he is a man of character and conviction who is not afraid to stand up for what is right and just.

Of course, I would be more than remiss if I did not acknowledge his point man, Vice-President Joe Biden, who opened the door for my President on last Sunday’s Meet the Press by acknowledging that he too supported same-sex marriage.

At first I thought this was just another one of those embarrassing Uncle Joe ‘oops’ moments. But three days later, when the President was coming out, I realized that Uncle Joe is as crafty as a fox; a silver fox. This move had all the precision planning of the Bin-Laden hit, minus Seal Team Six.

Romney naturally, was speechless and released a somewhat limp response and reiterated his continued support of hetero marriage only. This has been his position from the get-go and maybe the only one he hasn’t flip-flopped on since he began running five years ago. I’m not surprised though considering that it was the Mormon Church’s influence that overturned Prop 8 in California. It’s strange that this would come from them considering their relatively recent abandonment of polygamy.

Both of these endorsements (Obama and Biden) mean nothing of course, and yet they mean everything. To the people of North Carolina who want to believe that we are going to go back in the closet and return America to a white-dominated patriarchy, this was a big, giant thumb-nosing. To the millions of GLBT people who want nothing more than to have first-class citizenship, this was a major step forward to that end; for no sitting U.S. President has ever done what my President did last Wednesday. And while it doesn’t change what happened in North Carolina, it does present a clear choice to Americans in November. Will they choose the man who supports the views of the far right on retro-fitting vaginas to suit some delusional pre-World War II view of women, who had to be shamed into allowing interracial marriage, who even now have the chutzpa to inject religious views into what is clearly a civil issue? Will they choose to elect a man who flip flops more than an Aunt Jemima pancake on a hot griddle, but whose religion is surprisingly lily-white and would deny America’s Aunt and beloved icon membership to same? And finally, will they elect a man who clearly is so out of touch with the mainstream that he believes corporations are people?

Barack Obama is not perfect to be sure. But I believe with all my heart that this man has the best interests of the American people at the top of his agenda. From his handling of the automobile crisis to the banking situation, to gay rights, he has stood his ground and done the right thing against almost insurmountable odds.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, we are at a turning point in this country. There is a dangerous movement afoot by the extreme right to undo the very roots of our Constitution and put in its place a quasi-theocracy, which can only turn into tyranny. But this is not about religion; this fight is about a white patriarchy being forced to turn over the reins of power to the very groups they have so successfully oppressed for the last 200+ years. They are so fearful of becoming a minority that church pastors are now commanding their flocks to procreate in an effort to stem the tide. It’s really kind of sick.

As a case in point let’s take a look at Shaun Winkler.

  See Shaun. Shaun is running for Sheriff of Bonner County in Idaho. Shaun has lots of friends in the Ku Klux Klan. Shaun likes his friends so much that he became an Imperial Wizard.

Spot, the dog, is afraid of Shaun. So is Puff the cat.

Shaun likes fire and religion. He likes it so much that recently he invited the media to watch him burn a cross to show how much he cares. Remember, Shaun is running for Sheriff.

“We look at it more as a religious symbol”, said Shaun to his media friends. “Mainstream society looks at cross lighting as a symbol of hate, but it predates the Klan by hundreds of years”.  Shaun is correct. Emperors of ancient Rome used them to hang early Christians on and then set them on fire to provide light for their parties.

Shaun has a kinder, gentler side though. “Most people don’t know that we don’t just oppose the Jews and Negroes. We also oppose sexual predators and drugs of any kind,”

said the wizard. While he doesn’t condone the use of using humans as torches, he believes that immediate hanging is an acceptable form of punishment for drug dealers and those convicted of being sexual predators. Spot and Puff think Shaun is insane because he says that his personal beliefs won’t guide the way he would act as sheriff. Both Spot and Puff and Dick and Jane laughed until they peed themselves when he said this.

They won’t be laughing if he gets elected.

Whether you want to believe that this polarization of America is racial or not, I can’t help but believe that the vitriol I’ve seen directed at my President would not have happened if he were white. Sure the Republicans and Democrats would have bickered over issues, but that is the nature of a two party system. But this is a struggle for power to control the future of this country. And if you don’t believe that, take a good look at what Mitch McConnell said almost immediately after President Obama took office.

"The single most important thing is for Obama to be a one-term president"

That’s their goal. Not jobs, not economic growth. Their goal is to restore America to a lily-white power base and to legislate the rights of all Americans to conform to a twisted view of what they believe America should be. And you, as an American, ought to be outraged that you are being used for that purpose.

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat. Abbondanza!

The Loons! The Loons! Part III

(This is the third and final entry of my three-part, highly prejudicial and completely impressionistic, in-depth, gut-checking analysis of the Republican Presidential candidates.)

Today I was going to devote this entire essay to the remaining two Republican Presidential ahem.... candidates, Newt Gingrich and Ron Paul. But after Tuesday’s Illinois primary, it seemed pointless, given that they got whooped big-time by Willard “Mitt” Romney. Finally, his magic Mormon underwear is working!

It’s too bad too, because I had all this really fun stuff about both of them, like casting Ron Paul as John Galt in the musical version of Ayn Rand’s Atlas Shrugged. He was to sing the show stopper ‘Hey Americans....Quit Your Whining and Eat Your Road kill” at the end of Act I.

And then there was Newt. I had him starring in a remake of the old radio series, “My Favorite Wife”.  It was hysterical. But alas; all of that is history now as Mitt Romney seems a shoe-in for the nomination. Oh wait, the phone is ringing. Hold on a second please...

What? What’s his name? Eric Fehrnstrom? Who the hell is that? He’s Romney’s what? and he really said that? ....I’ll get back to you later.

Okay, I’m back. You are not going to believe this. You know how every time Mitt Romney seems to get a little momentum going, he says or does something really dumb like his “Corporations are people too” comment, or “I’m not worried about poor people” remark? And do you remember how many times I’ve alluded to my belief that Mitt is sort of robotic and appears to be programmed with defective downloaded software? Or how about the many times I’ve wondered aloud if he is unaware of the existence of videotape and that stuff he has said over the years seems so contradictory? Well it seems that whatever computer virus that is causing Mitt to continually shoot himself in the foot has now infected his staff too!

Just yesterday, Eric Fehrnstrom, a top aid to Mitt, told a television news reporter that once the primary season was over and once the nomination was a lock, that Romney could “reset” himself like an “Etch-a-Sketch” and redraw himself to the liking of a more mainstream voter. Now remember this is his top aid speaking... the guy who is supposed to be helping Mitt work past the perception that many Americans have that Romney is a flip-flopping rich boy who never met a political position he couldn’t conform to.

Seriously; he said Etch-a-Sketch... Right after his boss won a huge victory in a critical Mid-West State...  He compared his boss to a child’s drawing toy whose images can be created and erased just by shaking the thing. 

You would think that someone who is a top aid to a candidate for President of the United States, who knows that his candidate has had some issues with credibility and commitment to a principle or a philosophy, would choose his words and phraseology a bit more carefully than that wouldn’t you?

And to make matters worse, Fehrnstrom’s comment came on the heels of the Jeb Bush endorsement, which is the Golden Fleece of endorsements! Having Jeb Bush say he supports you, even if he holds his nose while doing so, is like finding a Ty Cobb rookie baseball card in a moldy bin of a roadside flea market and purchasing it for a quarter!  Let’s face it folks, when it comes to good, honest governing, there’s nothing like hiding behind a Bush!

So, the fate of America, its economy, its future, potentially rests in the hands of a man who has been compared to an Etch-a-Sketch in terms of values and commitment. How then will they defeat President Obama in November and save the Republic? Well I can offer a few suggestions that they might consider.

First of all, let’s not panic over the whole ‘toy’ analogy. People love toys, right? Children too! And to paraphrase Mitt, people are children too!

It is obvious that the Republican strategy believes that the American voter is childlike. Why else would Herman Cain, Bachmann, or Perry have ever been even remotely considered viable candidates? So let’s explore the toy thing a little more.

Hey Reince Priebus, head of the Republican National Committee and Lord High Emperor of Star Cluster XM7 in the Klingon Empire- you are missing a great marketing opportunity for taking over the entire United States Government and replacing it with Romney-bots!

Here’s all you have to do: Just retro-fit Mitt. Get rid of the folksy $400 jeans. Lose the program that has him attempting to be a struggling out of work billionaire and dress him up in a Buzz Lightyear costume! He already has the square jaw and the social ineptness needed, and with his soulful singing voice he is sure to go to Infinity and Beyond in popularity.

And as for a Vice-Presidential candidate, well that’s obvious isn’t it? From the great state of New Jersey, it is my honor sir to nominate a true American icon and statesman, Mister Potato Head! He is the perfect complement to Presidential hopeful Lightyear in that you can change his facial characteristics and gender whenever and wherever it is needed.

Why stop there though? What about a cabinet? Miss Piggy for Secretary of State! Scrabble for Secretary of Education! GI Joe for Secretary of Defense! Milton Bradley for Chief of Staff! Oh Reince, with this one, extraordinarily bold, brilliant move, you can finally escape the curse of having had to live in the shadow of Michael Steele for all these years.

But alas, who am I, but a lowly plebe... a vagary, a missed stitch in the fabric of our nation. I know that my voice, while bellowing in the confines of the garret in which I write this electronic blip, is a mere church-mouse squeak in your world. I have no wealth, no corporation/person to twist your arm and grease your palm. All I have is words; and words are not people. Words mean nothing. They can be reset and erased like the ideas and ideals of Mitt Romney. They can be deleted, diluted, defamed, defiled, detoxified, delayed, and deposed in your world. But in my world, in real America, they mean something. And we’re listening.

I feel better now that I have given the very best of myself to insure a fair and balanced election. I hope that the candidates heed the valuable advice I've provided them and want them to know that if there is any super-pac money floating around that they need to unload, I could use a new washing machine.

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat. Abbondanza!

The Loons! The Loons!

(This is the first of my three-part, highly prejudicial, and completely impressionistic, in-depth, gut-checking analysis of the Republican Presidential candidates.)

You may have noticed that there is a Presidential race going on here in America; or at least half a race. The Republican candidates have been involved in a rather messy, very public version of King of the Hill as they vie for the Republican nomination. I say half a race because the President is not yet involved in it. He is off doing other mundane, often unnoticed things, like bringing the country back from the worst economic disaster since the Great Depression (what a slacker!), while his opponents address the real issues threatening the fabric and future of America, such as birth control, abortion rights, Presidential birth certificates, and same-sex marriage.     

What started out as oh, thirty or forty people running for this really thankless job has been narrowed down to just three; well, four if you count Ron Paul, who if nothing else is sure to have a hit record with his original tune, “Hey you kids, get off of my lawn!” It will be released as soon as he decides which of the other lucky contestants gets his 7% of the Republican voter base and then drops out.

The other three, Romney, Santorum and Gingrich are slugging it out in the semi-finals. But in the end, only one will be the new American Idle (sic). So how are they doing?

Well, last night Rick Santorum, the former Senator from Pennsylvania, won the key Southern state primaries in Alabama and Mississippi. Not to be outdone, Romney cleaned Santorum’s clock by winning the all-important Hawaii and American Samoa primaries. That’s right-American Samoa! And he might have lost that all-important contest too if his handlers hadn’t counseled Romney to stop calling them the American S’mores.

Willard “Mitt” Romney has been campaigning for the last five years for this nomination. He’s spent millions and millions of dollars, and still can’t seem to get above 30% in any of the primaries held thus far. Here, in my humble opinion, is why I should be his campaign manager.

America is composed of about 99% “Working Joes” and “Working Josephines”, not “Working Willards” or “Working Mitts”. He needs to start by changing his name to “Hank” or “Duke” Romney. That will immediately give him 2 or 3 percentage points in these contests.

Second, he needs to spend an entire season as the host of television’s Dirty Jobs, cleaning septic tanks or killing cows in a slaughterhouse. Right now his only connection with just plain folks is his learned ability to say ‘grits’, ‘y’all’, and ‘I like trees’. Just for going to work, ole Duke Romney will grab another point or two in these races.

While I’m at it, I would tell Mitt to stop doing things like making $10,000 bets with people while he’s on national television. Oh I know that children do that all the time, but this guy can actually pay one off just with the dough in his wallet. In fact, I’d venture a guess that his wallet alone cost about 10k.

Admit you’re rich, Hank Romney! Why do you pretend that you aren’t? You are not one of us. Wearing jeans and rolling up your sleeves doesn’t make you so. I have never seen anyone look as uncomfortable as you do at one of these campaign whistle stops. You’re like the rich kid who shows up at a public basketball court and wants to start a pick up game using your personally autographed Michael Jordan ball, and who brings Michael Jordan with him as his teammate.

Be proud of the photo with you and the money falling out of your pockets! Revel in the fact that your bedroom slippers cost more than I make in a week. Hire all the illegals you can afford to clean for you!

Stop tying the dog to the roof of your car! It doesn’t look good.  And while you’re at it, get an All-American dog we can identify with, like a pit bull. Name him something like Hercules. And make sure America sees ole Hercules, testicles swinging around on CNN news feeds. The public likes a dog with balls.  Not only will America think you’re tough, but piss-ant countries like Iran will think twice before dropping an A-bomb down Israel’s throat. Plus you get the added benefit of protection! What chicken-fried smelling trailer trash is going to shove their urine-soaked baby in your arms when there’s even the remotest possibility that ole Hercules will chew its arm off?  

 Be proud of being a Mormon! Get married to a woman in every town in which you campaign! Beat up a gay person! Have a vision at a county fair; nothing says ‘America’ more than a potential President going glassy-eyed and quoting Joseph Smith’s golden tablets. Store the Osmonds in the luggage compartment of your bus and drag one or two out at each stop! Come on, do I have to think of everything?

And stop flip-flopping on every issue...or not...no really you need to stop...no you don’t. YES YOU DO! Jesus, it’s contagious!

America wants you to say SOME things, not EVERYTHING! You need to understand the concept of videotape. This isn’t 1900 where you can say shit to people one day and change your mind the next. You can’t be for “Obama Care” back then and against it now, especially if it’s original name was ‘Romney Care’. IT’S YOUR PLAN! Either embrace it or change your name to Creampuff Wussy Wimp III.

Mess up your hair once in a while. Does Bain Capital also own the Vitalis Company? Let America know that yes that is actual human hair and not a communications helmet from whatever robotics firm built you in the first place.

You need to swear a little too. And get drunk. And take a mistress. Or at the very least, pull a Bill Clinton and tell the world you got oral sex on the corporate jet, even if you didn’t. Make shit up! America will see you as human and flawed, and love you to death.

Finally, you need to make a dramatic speech, one that’s emotion-packed and will tug at both America’s heartstrings and purse strings. I’ve got one for you and you can put it in the new documentary I’m writing for you at this very minute. I call it...

Knute Romney-All American Guy!

Here’s your script.

“Well America...I haven’t a thing to say. We’ve played a great game...all of us...Great game. (He tries to smile)

I guess we just can’t expect to win ‘em all. But we sure wowed them in American S’more...er, Samoa

(Romney pauses and says quietly)

I’m going to tell you something I’ve kept to myself for years-

None of you ever knew Bob Dole.

It was long before your time.

But you know what a lesson he was for us all at the political game.

(There is a gentle, faraway look in his eyes as recalls Dole’s words)

And the last thing he said to me--“Romn,’ he said-

“sometime, when the team is up against it—and the breaks are beating the shit out of the Republican party—tell them to go out there with all they’ve got and win just one for the Doler....

(Romney’s eyes become misty and his voice is unsteady as he finishes)

I don’t know where I’ll be then Romn”, he said—“but

I’ll know about it—and I’ll be happy”.

Next, I’ll be giving my expert political punditry to Rick Santorum. Sooner or later, one of these loons will listen to me and I will be the most powerful, non-elected, transgendered comedian in the universe!

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug. Everybody eat. Abbondanza!

Reality Bites.

A recent poll taken by my family and friends shows that 92.9% (+ or – 4%) of them believe that I have no connection at all to reality. They cite my recent revelations that I regularly go out to dinner with dead historical figures such as Amelia Earhart, who I’ve been dating for quite a while. Also on their reasons for doubting my grip on reality include, traveling through time, and knowing the exact value of Pi. 

Now normally I would agree with them 92.9% (+ or – 4%) of the time, but in this case they are dead wrong. You can’t reach the stature that I have in the literary and comedy communities (2 Emmys, and a Pulitzer) and not have a firm grasp of what is real. And so, on the advice of my good friends, Jack Kerouac and Melvin Belli, who urged me at knifepoint to do some outlines for television shows, I have acquiesced to do so, though it lowers my standards to several stories below anywhere I ever thought possible. But what type of show?

My criteria for deciding on the sort of show I’d write about came from the same criterion that drives all my decisions; will my friend Humphrey Bogart approve? And the other is, “How much money will I make from this?”

I’ve been trying to come with new ideas for a reality show, since it seems that there is an insatiable appetite for them. Some of them are fun to watch, like Gold Rush, Pawn Stars, Hogs Gone Wild and American Pickers. But television, never one to miss an opportunity to capitalize on a good thing, seems to be recycling the same ideas. So recently, I took a production meeting with the people in my head and kicked around a few ideas for some reality shows I’d like to see. Tell me what you think.

TALI-BANANAS! ­Each week, a group of  crazed religious extremists have to switch places with a Midwest Iowa family and try to get through one week without setting fire to something, screaming “AY YAIYAIYYAIYAIYAIYAI!” for no apparent reason, shooting a machine gun into the air, or saying “Death to America!”. After one week, they go back to their homeland and try to locate the hideout where the Iowans are being held hostage. The first team to find the Iowans wins 72 virgins. The losing team has to scour the world in search of 72 virgins

Trans-Santorum-sylvania- ­Rick Santorum, his family and everyone in his hometown in Pennsylvania have to live a week in their opposite gender. Watch as Rick tries on his new wardrobe for the first time, deals with the wacky effects of estrogen on his body, and tries to get a job as a transgender female; hilarious! It’s just like the TV show Working it, only funny because it’s played by a real dick!

The Real Housewives of Newt Gingrich- Newt de-converts from Catholicism and becomes a secret Mormon. He marries a total of 52 women, making him the first human time-share. Each week, a different Gingrich wife comments on the joys of only having to spend one week a year with him, while the other 51 wives campaign behind his back for Barack Obama.

Dr. Ron Paul’s Extremely Harsh Makeover- Dr. Ron takes a good long, look at America, declares martial law and systematically goes hog wild, stripping the Constitution down to two paragraphs and showing us what life in America was really like before 1789. Special guests include: Roe v. Wade, Brown vs The Board of Education, the Emancipation Proclamation, and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell. Weekly features include the National Rifle Association Dancers and The Libertarians, an improvisational theater troupe who will each week “roast” a member of the American Civil Liberties Union. Must watch TV! (No seriously... it will become law that we MUST watch it)

Mitt Romney’s, Not in My Backyard! – A silver Airstream trailer towed by a family of eight from the Ozarks, sets up camp in Mitt’s backyard, after erroneously confusing it with a national park. Mitt, in a nearly human display of emotions, tells the butler to inform the squatters that they must leave or he will release the hounds. The Ozarkians (not to be confused with one of Ron Paul’s interplanetary friends), kidnap Mittens instead, and take him on a romp across country where he is shown American life as it really is. Watch this gripping drama as the Clemens Family, Buddy and Fern, the kids-Trevor, Buddy Jr., Leigh-Ann, Marjorie and baby Cletus, along with their Rottweiler, Hercules, show Mitt how to unclog a toilet, eat pizza with just his hands, live on $30,0000 a year, and be unemployed when all you have is $500 in the bank!

Those are my top five titles. There were others of course that I had to cancel because of some untimely developments such as, Marcus Bachmann’s-Cruisin’ up Denial, Jon Corzine’s 20 Billion Dollar Treasure Hunt, and Fred Phelps-Dancing with the Devils, all had potential but had to be shelved.

I’ve given a lot of thought to reality, and to be honest, I don’t hold out much hope for it because it is such a subjective thing. Mitt Romney seriously believes that making 40 thousand dollars for a speaking engagement isn’t “a lot of money”. That’s his reality because to someone worth a quarter of a billion dollars it really isn’t a great deal. Santorum’s reality is that it is better for children to have a father in prison than to have a gay parent at home. Even I don’t let my thoughts get that crazy.

The down side to anyone’s reality is that it might lead to zealotry. Loosely defined that’s when one person’s reality gets infected and turns into craziness; this in turn, begins to fester, bubble and spill out all over your docile reality, usually resulting in a disease ending with the suffix ism. Communism, Fascism, Racism, Liberalism and Conservatism; they all have ism at the end, which automatically denotes that someone who believes in them will eventually want to kill you, thus upsetting your reality.

Every person on the planet has his or her own reality. Stalkers believe that they are within their rights to follow a person around in secret, because their reality causes them to believe they are in love with their stalkee. Ultra-Religious people feel that they have the pipeline to The Truth, and God help anyone whose reality differs.

All of which brings me back to my version of reality. If I want to believe that I can make a Ball Park Frank sing an operatic aria, so what? If the idea of having my own personal tuba collection makes me happy, that’s my reality. It is also what God calls free will, for those of you who believe the Bible is the go-to book for the answers to everything. So to all of you who believe you are right about EVERYTHING, listen up; leave me the frig alone. I have my reality. It works for me. And that’s all I need. Isn’t that right Amelia?

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat! Abbondanza!

    

          

Stop Da Presses!

The front page of today’s New York Times dealt with all the things one would suspect today, with the Iowa caucus leading the way. If you are not familiar with the Republican caucii, they happen every four years throughout America. These events take place early   in a presidential election year, because it’s too damned cold to do anything else. At Republican caucuses, God-fearing, real American Caucasians (hence the name caucus) from around a particular state will get together (usually at night) in groups to decide which of the candidates would most likely work tirelessly to eliminate the civil rights of most  of the American people, and thus hurl us back to the time of the Puritans, leeches and witch-burning. In last night’s Iowa caucus, Rick “the Inquisition” Santorum, an Italian American Roman Catholic emerged as the Republican Flavor-of-the-month, losing by only eight votes to Mittens, Just-hold-your-nose-and-vote-for- me”, Romney. Hey, how come nobody asked for Santorum’s birth certificate or Romney’s date of manufacture sticker yet?

Interesting? Yeah, in a corn-fed, Americana way, I guess. But it takes a real reporter, someone who will dig DEEEEP into the lint-encrusted bellybutton of America to find the stuff that will captivate the reader’s attention, thereby lulling him or her into the false sense of security in believing that all is right with the world. So I have culled the meat of the fourth estate to the very bone in search of such stories. Read them, weep, laugh, gnash hands and be distracted, while Santorum sets fire to the Constitution and replaces it with...  The Constitorum of the United States. You’ll recognize it by the Preamble which reads:

“Me... and no other people of the U-knighted-me States, in order to form

A more heterosexual union, establish just this,

Insure domestics and housekeepers eligibility for employment based on citizenship,

Provide for the common defense (so that we can blow Iran back to the Stone Age)

Promote the abolishment of welfare and health care

And insure the blessings of liberty for ourselves only and fuck everyone else,

Do hereby ordain and establish this Constitorum

For the U-knighted-me States of America. Amen.”

 The preceding was paid for by the Immature for Gingrich Organization. 

Now let’s get to the real news.

Fifty-one year old British citizen Sarah Burge has spent over $1 million over her lifetime on plastic surgery and liposuction, in an effort to look like a real-life Barbie doll.

Okay. Take a deep breath here as you ponder that. One-million dollars. When you do the monetary conversion it comes out to about Five Hundred Thousand British Pounds, which coincidentally, is how much weight I gained over the holidays.

 No mention is made of a husband, by the way. Do you  think she sliced off his genitalia in an effort to make him look more like Ken? Actually, if he agreed to spending that much money, I'd say that bit of surgery has already taken place; metaphorically, of course. But wait, there’s more.

Sarah Barbie-Burge has a seven year-old daughter named Poppy, an obvious homage to the heroin Sarah must have taken to do something as stupid as this. Are you ready? For a Christmas stocking stuffer, Sarah gave Poppy a $10,000 voucher for LIPOSUCTION! 

“Poppy asks for surgery all the time”, said Barbie. “She wants to look good and lipo is one of those procedures that will come in handy.” Sarah compared it to “saving money for an education.”

This kid asks for surgery? When I was seven, all I wanted was the complete set of Three Stooges hand puppets so I could do shows in my bedroom. Granted, I only had two hands, but I wrote my scripts cleverly so that Moe, Larry, and Curly never had to do scenes together. If people asked, I just told them it was in the Stooges’ contract with Paramount.  But enough about that. Who is this kid’s father, Josef Mengele?

 But wait, there’s still MORE.

Among the many valuable life skills Sarah is teaching little Poppy, such as NOTHING, last year, this maniac Mom began giving the child lessons on pole-dancing. And yes, if you aren’t vomiting yet, there is STILL MORE.

Sarah has reportedly given her seven-year-old baby, a gift certificate to receive breast implants when she turns 16.

“Poppy begged me for a boob job,” the proud Mama told Closer magazine in 2010 (which would have made her 5 at the time). “If she develops naturally big boobs, she can have something else done with it.” Like what? Buy a new mother?

There is nothing I can add to this story to embellish it. In the pantheon of craziest psycho mothers of all time, Sarah Burge outpaces them all. Crazier than Joan Crawford, you say? Let me tell you something. Next to this loon, ole No Wire Coat Hangers Joanie was Mrs. Cunningham from Happy Days. For all my transgendered sisters and brothers out there, I advise you to clip this article, and the next time some self-righteous right wing nut starts ragging on you, just whip this out and scream, “Oh yeah? Well at least I’m not doing THIS to my kids!”

Okay, take another deep, cleansing breath. Ready? Good. Just when you thought it was safe to go in the water, along comes... The attack of the Hasselhoff Crabs!

This story, which was featured in the Washington Post, has nothing whatsoever to do with the unfortunate result of a night of revelry with the star of Baywatch and German pop idol, so you can bring the kids back in front of the computer screen. Seriously, what is wrong with the Germans?  

Actually, this is a legitimate science story of the utmost importance to the future of mankind. It seems that in their first ever exploration of the deep-sea-vents of the Antarctic, which by explanation are connected to the deep-sea furnace, which ultimately heat your home, scientists have discovered a new type of Yeti crab and they have named it the “Hasselhoff Crab” because of its hairy chest.  Now, I have never heard of the Yeti crab in the first place, so they are all new to me. And as for having a hairy chest, why pick on poor Hoff? Have you seen Kelsey Grammer without a shirt? Jesus, you could knit enough Afghans to keep all of Afghanistan warm with his wool. Besides, aren’t crabs macho enough? Do they really need hairy chests to prove their crabhood?

These creatures were discovered way down deep on the Southern Ocean floor in 2010 quite by accident. Apparently the lights from a submersible submarine attracted them and also distracted them from a keg party, where they were spotted opening cans of beer with their claws. As I said, they live very deep in the ocean; about 2,500 meters to be exact. And if I remember my metric conversion math, that’s about four million, five hundred and sixty-two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven miles below the surface! Way to go crabs!

I would be a less than responsible reporter if I did not give you a visual description of the “Hoff”, just in case you find yourself four million, five hundred and sixty-two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven miles underwater someday when you are out swimming in the Antarctic Ocean. Just a note of caution here; don’t eat anything for a full hour before going swimming at those depths.

Regular Yeti crabs are easily recognized by their hairs, or setae that sprout along their claws and limbs, according to the Post article by Elizabeth Flock. What makes the Hasselhoff Crab even more identifiable (and kinda sexier too, if you ask me), is that it even has hair on its undersides. This ‘hair’ is actually strands of bacteria, which the Hasselhoff crab eats for food! Ewwwww!

And finally, Reuters News Service Reports that the Pope (I forget what number he is) has fired the assistant Bishop of Los Angeles, California, Gabino Zavala for, get this, fathering two children in another state! Holy Cow! The Father is a FATHER!

Now, I’m not condemning him in anyway here. I believe that priests should be able to marry. It would give them a better clue as to what their parishioners’ lives are like. Plus it would probably lessen their ‘urges’ to introduce the “Church Body” to unsuspecting children.  But damn, I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall for the Bishop’s quarterly performance review.

Pope; “So uh....Gabino, how’s it going over in the States?”

Gabino: “Fine Holy Father. How’s things here in Rome?”

Pope: “Good thanks. I hate this Roman weather though. The Vatican, she’s drafty you know?”

Gabino: Yes, I do.

Pope: “So uh... listen. Overall, things are looking pretty good out there in LA. Donations are up sixteen percent, attendance could come up a wee bit though. And JUST WHO THE HELL IS THIS WOMAN WHO BORE TWO OF YOUR CHILDREN?”

Gabino: “Uh....yeah...about that.”

Pope: “Are you nuts? Have you gone insane? Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to do that? Please tell me these were immaculate conceptions, so I can at least spin the miracle thing with the press!”

Gabino: “Uhhh.... no. I wish I could say they were, but...

Pope: “You wish, you wish. Now what do I do? You were going places kid. I had a nice diocese all picked out for you at the Jersey Shore and you go and blow it, big time! Now get out of here before I circumcise you with my Swiss Army Knife!

Gabino: “But Your Highness, I mean Godfather... no... Crap... Holy Father...please...”

Pope: “OUT!”

Now that, of course, was a dramatization, but I’ll bet it wasn’t far from the truth. By the way, former Bishop Zavala wasn’t the only one with a secret family. According to the same article, the late leader of the Legionairies of Christ religious order, Father Marcial Maciel (didn’t he play sax in the late James Brown’s band?) committed the same offense, although it wasn’t discovered until after his death. Dan Brown, are you listening? There is a book here somewhere for sure!

Bottom line is; let these poor guys get married already!

Finally, I saw the premiere of ABC Television’s Work It last night, and I can proudly say that I was spot on in my prediction that it would be an utter bomb. But don’t believe me; instead, I’ve taken the liberty of lifting a portion of the review from a professional TV critic at IGN.com. Ready?

Advance Review: Welcome to the absolute end of civilization.

Apparently if you've ever written for the hit NBC series Friends, like Work It creators Andrew Reich and Ted Cohen, you're now an untouchable monster who can throw whatever pigs*** you want up on the screen. I joked with some folks early on, after initially watching the pilot for ABC's abysmal sitcom Work It last summer, that this show was on the air because someone high up on the TV food chain either won a bet against someone who loves television or lost a bet against someone who hates it. Now, after re-watching the pilot again (I have my own masochistic issues, btw) I can firmly say, without fear of contradiction, that this series has damning apocalyptic undertones.

As the first property (that I could find) to get a perfect "0" score from IGN since 1998's controversial Olympic Hockey Nagano '98 review, Work It is hyperbole-proof. I cannot over-emphasize enough how much this show is a freakish, insulting abomination. It thuggishly offends on so many levels that it's hard to even remain clear-headed enough to piece together a simple review of an episode that deals with two men who dress like women to get jobs.

Being a bit of a launch pad for Tom Hanks and (to a lesser launching extent) Peter Scolari, Bosom Buddies is a fondly (?) remembered goof of an 80's sitcom that featured Hanks and Scolari dressing up like gals to live cheaply in a "females-only" hotel. It's not classic TV by any stretch of the term, but many will say that Hanks gave a flashy enough performance for him to stand out and "elevate" the material; base "gender slapstick" material which is now semi-forgiven because it was 30 years ago. ABC will argue that Work It merely honors that show and that crude tradition, but what they're leaving out of the hype is that Work It will also make you want to go travel in time and execute the person, or people, who invented broadcast entertainment.  

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat! Abbondanza!

  

    

   .     

Profiles in Dis-courage

Last year, the world watched transfixed as the governments of Libya, Egypt and Tunisia fell in large part due to the ability of the freedom fighters to communicate via cell phones and computers. Looking back, it is becoming more and more apparent that the age of the tyrant is coming to an end. Wherever people unite via these remarkable methods, governmental greed and stupidity will be called on the carpet and soundly thrashed.

Take Occupy Wall Street, for instance. This movement, which began with some campers in a park in New York’s Financial District, has spread worldwide in large part due to Twitter and Facebook. Occupiers are now um, occupying everywhere that perceived injustice is being done throughout America. And in true democratic fashion, the local governments have immediately responded to their demands. Our economy is now on an upswing thanks to the government bailout of the pepper spray industry. Way to go governments! Pepper Spray America and save a job!

Whether you realize it or not, we are bearing witness to a cataclysmic shift in how we are and will be governed forever. Politicians, tyrants, dictators and crazy people can no longer count on the ignorance of and lack of communication among their citizenry. From now on, everything they say or do will be visible and audible with the click of a virtual button.

I have this theory that the American Government’s Executive and Legislative branches have for the most part always been occupied by crazy people who, if they were ordinary citizens, would be dressed in togas and roaming Times Square with megaphones, raving about interplanetary aliens among who are destroying our free will by injecting artisan cheeses with mind-altering bacteria. There hasn’t been an original thought in Congress since the invention of the vacuum tube brought these bubbleheads into our homes through the miracles of radio and television. With few exceptions the elected ‘leaders’ of our citizen government spend most (if not all) of their elected terms, working to get re-elected. They live in a biosphere of perks, where their constituents are a nuisance that must be occasionally placated so that the perks will continue. From a purely business viewpoint, they realize that they must at least give the illusion that they are ‘of the people’, so they have hired teams of people to make them appear concerned and caring through the use of sound bites.

  .

The result is a crop of people, who have been entrusted with the future of arguably the greatest nation in the history of the world, having the collective intelligence and ethics of Foghorn Leghorn. All of which brings me to the Campaign of 2012, and the Presidency in general. There’s a whole lot of Presidential stuff in the air and it helps to occasionally sniff it, no matter how bad it smells. Let’s start with Willard “Mitt” Romney.

Call it my own personal prejudice, but I always feel that if I ever looked at Romney’s record collection, I would find nothing but Pat Boone and Andy Williams records in it.

Not that being an ethnically vanilla guy is a bad thing, it’s just that I see him as being so far removed from any relation to the life that I and millions of others lead, he couldn’t possibly have the slightest clue as to what needs to be done to make our lives better. I can totally see Mitt eating spareribs with a knife and fork at a Chinese restaurant, and asking for an endless supply of moist towelettes to wipe the grease off of his high-lanolin content hands.

But in his never-ending attempt to appear more human and less like a Disney Animatronic Robot, Mitt’s ‘people’ have decided that he needs to have more pop-cultural references in his repertoire. A secret report (which I just made up) reveals that about a six months ago, Mitt’s Minions purchased the board game Trivial Pursuit (no, the irony did not escape me) and have been playing it on the campaign bus all across Iowa in the hopes that Mittens will be able to connect with ‘regular folks’. This carefully constructed and ingenious plan to bridge the ‘hipness’ gap began in 2008 when, Grand Master Mittany sampled the lyrics to “Who Let the Dogs Out?” in one of his stump speeches.

Oh he has his manicured finger on the pulse of America alright. In May of 2011, we learned that Mitt’s favorite book is Twilight, a series of novels about a teenage girl who falls in love with a 104-year old vampire. More about vampires later; right now I want you to picture Mitt as the Leader of the Free World, sitting in front of a roaring fire at the White House, trusty dog at his side, reading the four Twilight novels. It boggles the mind doesn’t it? And that’s not all.  .  

Last week, he referenced I Love Lucy, in what I can only assume was his attempt to validate his immigration policy on illegal Cubans who have come here with conga drums to keep everyone awake with their incessant singing of Babaloo.

Finally, on New Year’s Day, Romney demonstrated his encyclopedic knowledge of all things popular by pointing out to the just-plain-folks of Iowa that President Obama’s “gap between his promises and his performance is the largest I’ve seen, well, since the Kardashian wedding and the promise of till death do us part.”   I’m sure that Mitt and his people smiled knowingly to themselves as they hit this home run. If you watch the video of him, you can almost see the thought bubble over his head read; Wow... so this is what it’s like to be a real boy.

Speaking of vampires (like the way I came back to that?), it has come to my attention that a new movie will be released in June of 2012 involving Abraham Lincoln, perhaps the greatest president America has ever had. It’s title? Abraham Lincoln; Vampire Hunter. And no, I am not kidding. And no again if you think the screenplay was written by Rick Perry and Ron Paul.

This film, produced by Tim Burton, is an adaptation of a novel by the author Seth Grahame-Smith in which Lincoln and William Seward (the guy who got us Alaska at a great price) are both vampire slayers. Lincoln is out to avenge the death of his mother, who was apparently killed by them and Seward is just along for the ride as his wacky sidekick. Also featured in the movie is Edgar Allen (you can call me Al) Poe as the man who informs Lincoln that unless the vampires (slave owners) are stopped, they will not rest until they enslave ALL Americans, which includes the white guys. Pretty lucid thinking on Edgar’s part, no? This is the same guy who was high on opium and liquor for most of his life and whose death, it has been speculated, was caused by one or a combination of the following; alcohol, brain congestion, cholera, drugs, heart disease, RABIES, suicide, and/or tuberculosis. Not only that, but Poe died in 1849, twelve years before Fort Sumter was fired upon. Yes, I can certainly see Abraham Lincoln traveling to Baltimore to confer with this lunatic on matters of importance like the fate of the nation.

Lincoln... A vampire hunter... Four score and seven years ago... That Lincoln. Vampires. It almost sounds like something Michelle Bachmann might have heard from one of the voices in her head. What the hell is wrong with America, people?

My final Presidential story today has to deal with Richard Nixon, the only President who ever resigned from the job. He has been the subject of numerous books, but none quite as bizarrely titillating as the latest biography by former United Press International Washington Bureau Chief, Don Fulsom. It is entitled Nixon’s Darkest Secrets; The Inside Story of America’s Most Troubled President, a title that I would question given the last eight years we spent with George Bush and his craziness. But Mr. Fulsom is obviously way more qualified than I am to debate the relative sanity of the men who would be kings.

The book is apparently chock full of gossip. He was, according to Fulsom, a heavy drinker who was referred to as “Our Drunk” by his staff, and who frequently beat his wife Pat, called her a “f***ing b**ch” before, during, and after his presidency. But the biggest, juiciest chunk of news from Fulsom’s book is the unfounded claim that Nixon was, and I can’t believe I’m typing this, GAY.  

Fulsom claims that it was common knowledge to Washington insiders that the object of Nixon’s affections was his best friend, Cuban-American playboy Charles (Bebe) Rebozo. Both Nixon and Rebozo, Fulsom writes, laundered money for mob kingpins in Florida and Cuba, but the relationship was much more intimate than that.

You know, having grown up in that era I have absolutely no trouble believing that Nixon and Bebe laundered money. It’s the gay thing that I find absolutely stunning. Who would have guessed? If it’s true, there are a whole lot of Republicans who have an awful lot of “splainin” to do Lucy, regarding their vehement anti-gay stances over the last forty years.

So there you have it folks. The next time Grandpa and Grandma are sitting around the dinner table talking about how the world has done gone plumb crazy, since they were kids, explain to them that it’s always been this crazy. It’s just that now we all know about it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to cover my windows with tin foil, throw out all my artisan cheeses and take my anti-mind control serum to protect me from the aliens... and the government.

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, everybody eat. Abbondanza!   

  

  

Don't Drop that New Year's Ball!

2012 will be starting in two days and it looks like it is already shaping up to be quite the year, news-wise. It is only fitting that I make my predictions in the vaguest of all possible ways, so that when an obscure and totally unrelated event does happen, someone can point to it and say, “See? J-Sco (my psychic nickname) said this was going to happen in 2012. That woman is a genius!” 

Now I’m not claiming to be a psychic, just so you know. That would be just plain silly. About the only thing I can predict for sure is that cookies will play an integral part of my life in 2012. However, should I accidentally hit on something that actually does happen, I want to reserve the right in advance to change my previous statement. Call it the Mitt Romney Method of History Revision.

No, instead of relying on some unseen and unproven sixth sense, I have decided to use pure science in my prediction process. And what source could be more reliable than the writings of Nostradamus, a guy who died nearly four hundred and fifty years ago? What’s that? You say “Pshaw”? Oh realllllly? Did he NOT predict the invention of indoor plumbing when he wrote:

“And the day shall come. It will be a cold night and the world will rise up and feel the need. They will consider journeying through the wilderness for relief, but will stop on their way, and instead, GO inside...”  

Need more proof? How about this?

            “Eenie meenie miney mo

                Catch a bad girl by the toe

                If she holla, (if, if, if, she holla) let her go

Clearly, Nostradamus is talking about Michelle Bachmann’s Presidential campaign, and teen heart-throb Justin Bieber is channeling his spirit.

Now that I have proved my source to be reliable beyond the shadow of a doubt, I will slip into a sugar induced trance and make my predictions. I’ll be right back. Oh, you may notice a font change as I slip away. This is a clever, literary device invented by me, J-Sco, to indicate that I am now in a trance. Okay, I’m really slipping into it now.

1. Nostradamus: A goat will eat all the money of a certain man across the sea, rendering him a penniless jackass.

Me (interpreting): An obvious reference to yet another kardashian marriage sometime this year to an unsuspecting schlub.

2. Nostradamus: One of the chosen will travel great distances, and on a night shortly before the Winter Solstice, will  fall into a great pit of blackness, never to be heard from again.

Me: The great seer is no doubt predicting the chances of any republican winning the presidency.

3. Nostradamus: A wild person with the mane of an aging lion will roar unceasingly, but frighten no one.

Me: Donald Trump will finally be confined to a mental hospital, where he will be free to say whatever he wants to his coffee cup.

4. Nostradamus: What seems impossible will be possible. And the world will shudder at the thought.

Me: “Vince”, the Sham-Wow guy will make his triumphant return to the world of show business and win a tony Award for his stage portrayal of an emotionally tortured, adult Augustus Gloop, the gluttonous kid in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

5: Nostradamus: The World will end on December 12, 2012.

Me: The world will end on .... Wait a minute .... WHAT DID YOU SAY?

“I said, the world will end on December 12, 2012. Pack a lunch.”

Wait, we need to get out of this font and discuss this.

That’s better. Okay. We’ve been having a little fun here. But telling these nice people that the world is coming to an end is a bit irresponsible don’t you think?

“Well it would be if it weren’t true, J-Sco. But I have it on a very reliable source.”

You mean God?

“No silly. God doesn’t talk to me. I mean the Mayans, of course.”

The Mayans? You mean the civilization that mysteriously disappeared from the face of the earth about two thousand years ago, leaving behind temples, ancient ruins, calendars, and alien aircraft landing strips? Those Mayans?

“The very same, J-Sco. Why, I am in constant contact with Quazioxycodone, the great chief and prognosticator. He was the Nostradamus of his day, you know. We soothsayers stick together.”

Wow. So how is it going to happen?

“Well, it could come from an asteroid slamming into the earth, or something much worse, like legalizing gay marriage or universal health care.”

Damn. So I guess I’d be screwed big time then, being transgendered and all.

”You will be on the express bus to hell, my friend. Enjoy your time here. I have to get going. Quazioxycodone and I have a psychic bowling tournament this afternoon, and I want to get there early to work on my game. See ya.”

Well there you have it folks, J-Sco’s revelations from the Great Beyond for 2012. Oh, rest assured that there were plenty more, but space prohibits me from sharing them with you. I will promise you this though; I will reveal them throughout the year moments AFTER they happen. Hey Nostradamus, are you still there? I have one more question.

“Make it a quick one. I’ve got the alley reserved and I’m late already.”

That thing you said about Vince, the Sham-Wow guy winning a Tony Award. Is that really true?

“You can bet the farm on it, J-Sco.”

Now that is a frightening thought.

That’s it. I’m done bitching. Everybody hug, Everybody eat. Abbondanza!