I Beg Your Pardon?

WARNING:  Not going to be one of these kind of posts.
Thank you in advance for understanding.

    I’m probably going to tick off a lot of you.  That makes me sad.  Hopefully, though, you won’t go away.  Goodness knows, I need the few of you who visit this blog, both here, on Facebook, Meta, whatever (especially Gerry), and X, Twitter, whatever.  It’s not my intention to ruffle feathers.  That’s why I usually write Nonsense.  Occasionally, though, I must write Stuff (get the title of this blog now?  Good).

    First, as I wrote a few months ago, I DID NOT vote for Donald Trump.  Now, before my Democrat friends get all excited, neither did I vote for Kamala Harris.  Rather, I wrote in Ron De Santis.  Of course, I realized how much of a waste that was. 

    The way I figured, though, neither Orange Jesus nor the Cackling DEI Imbecile needed my vote to win.  Therefore, I couldn’t in good conscience cast MY vote for someone who I thought would be a disaster.

    Mind you, I’m glad that, of the two, it was Trump*.  He just didn’t do it with my help.

"And your support was yuge, a beautiful thing, if I could say."

"Wait, he what?"

"What I meant to say is 'fuck you.'"

    Still, I try to be as objective as I possibly can.  I believe in the Constitution.

    So when it comes to pardons issued by the Demented Delaware Cadaver, Mr. Comedy Gold Emeritus, and Noted Sniffer of Hair, Joe Biden, when it comes to issuing pardons, as repugnant as they were, he may have had authority to do so.

    Even though his intentions were clear (i.e., sparing members of his family and other vermin from wearing orange jumpsuits), the preemptive pardons that he issued LAST MINUTE do have precedence.

"He's defending me, Master?"

    Now, before you think I’m defending the Scranton Muppet, I must say that he was incredibly wrong for doing so.

"No.  No, you turnip.  He is not."

    Precedence, though.  Didn’t you just say (well, wrote), precedence?

    In the late 1970s, Gerald Ford issued a preemptive pardon to the disgraced Richard Nixon.  Ford felt that, by doing so, he would be sparing the nation from the angst of seeing a former president dragged into court.  Which was probably true.

We were such naive idiots back then.

    However, according to the Constitution, Article II, Section 2…

“…he [the President] shall have power to grant Reprieves and Pardons for Offenses against the United States, except in Cases of Impeachment.”

"Clear as a bell, wouldn't you say?"
"Like that Second Amendment.  What idiot could possibly be confused by it?"

    Unless I’m mistaken, Nixon wasn’t convicted, much less charged (I'm positive he would have been).  So, despite Ford’s admirable intention, he was very wrong to do this.  Just because Congress gave him a green light does not make it any less unconstitutional.

"Still got away with it, Dick."
"Cool.  And don't call me 'Dick.'"

    At least Hunter Biden was convicted of a crime.  

As disgusting as that piece of filth is.

    Not convicted of a crime against the Unted States, though.  I won’t address that can of worms here.  Too much diving into the weeds. 

    Fauci?  Not so much.

"Because nobody puts Lord Science behind bars. 
Worship me."

    Of course, the Washington poohbahs, on both sides of the aisle, have many times flouted the Constitution (e.g., Gulf of Tonkin Resolution), so nothing surprises me.

    I could be wrong about this entire thing but...while everyone knows his intent, the Alzheimers Poster Child can claim that, if Ford could do it, so could he.

"I don't have a Ford.  I drive a Chevrolet. 
Just ask my rescue cat, Scraps, here."

    And that will drive my Conservative friends nuts.

    Next time, perhaps some nonsense.  Whaddya say?

 

*The intention of this post is not to debate all things MAGA, so don’t bother.  Rather, I’m addressing a single issue here.  There’s plenty of time for other things.

 

I'm So Confused

     Yesterday, while working a shift as a Monetary Exchange Specialist,* a customer stepped up to purchase some sandpaper, caulk**, and wood putty.

    What he bought isn't important.  In fact, I could have left that part out entirely.  But, that's not how I roll.  I included it because I was able to make a terrible joke about it***.

    Anyway, what's germane about this entire post is what the customer looked like.

Wrong Germane.
NOTE: I know it's spelled "Jermaine."

    He was an older gentleman with a long, graying ponytail.  Look, I'm not a big fan of long hair, earrings, and various piercings for baby boomers.  The way I look at it, by the time you reach

Yes...sigh...my age.

your 60s, you should cut back a little on the youthful hijinks and look/act your age.

Some, of course, refuse to get the message.
Good grief, just make a batch of oatmeal-raisin cookies already, Grandma!

    But, hey, you do you.  If you want to suffer snickers from Gen X, Gen Y, Millennials, or whoever's next, knock yourself out. 

Wrong Snickers.
Incidentally, if you threw one of these at me, there'd be no suffering.

    What got me, though, was something seemed a little off about this person.  He was wearing cat-eye glasses, his ponytail was gathered together in the center of his head in a pastel-colored scrunchy, he wore crocs the color of sherbert, and sported lavender yoga pants.  His voice was pretty low, as low as mine.  

    And I'm a manly man.

Clearly.

    Since I thought I may have been dealing with a transgender, I remained as neutral in my speech as possible and was genuinely friendly to him.  

    Hey, as long as you don't mess around with kids, whatever you do is whatever you do.  I don't care.  I may think you're mentally-ill and wonder to whom you're attempting to appeal.

    But, once again, you do you.  I'll keep that to myself.

    One of the services we offer at my store, besides sell "Chuckles,"

"Mmmmm....Chuckles.   Multi-flavored sugar gelatinous goo coming in cherry, lime, pineapple, licorice, and Trump flavors....mmmmmm."

 is cutting keys.  When he/she/they asked to have a couple keys made, my coworker cheerfully called over and said, "I can take care of you here, sir."

Too late to stop him.

    Surprisingly, he/she/they gave no indication that he/she/they was offended.  In fact, as he/she/they turned to leave, I saw that, on the front of his/her/their hoodie was a design of a couple thumbs pointed at, "World's Greatest Grandpa."

 

   And that is why I was so confused.  Maybe he/she/they was really just an old dude with questionable fashion taste.

Once again, my age.

    Or, maybe it was an old hoodie.

    I think I'll just go eat some Chuckles. 

*sounds so much classier than "cashier."  Hey, don't laugh.  I was once an Italian Food Transportation Representative.  For Dominos.

**White caulk.  The brown caulk is twice the size for the same price.

***You looked, didn't you?

New Year's Resolution

 Rather than resolving to lose weight (PFFFT!  I'm 66.  Screw a whole bunch of that.  Plus, I'm still working on my Christmas candy), my New Year Resolution on January 1, 2025 is to still be around on January 1, 2026 (hopefully, with more Christmas candy).

Wish me luck.