Happy Independence Day!

     Or "Fourth of July" to the rest of the world.

    Yes, yes, sigh, I know.  Many other countries, other than the United States, have independence days.  Just give us this one.  We might not be around much longer.

"Okay, let's see if I got everyone's lunch order right...General Washington will have a BLT with American cheese and slice of cherry pie...well, of course, I have a turkey sub with chips for Hamilton...excuse me, what the hell is a sub?, Jefferson will have a broccoli rob...whatever that is, Mr. Frenchy McFrenchface, Madison, the suck-up, a Philly Cheesesteak, Adams will have a big salad...good call, John, the buttons on your breeches are getting ready to pop right off and kill us all, and Franklin will have fish and chips.  FISH AND CHIPS!!??  Seriously, Ben, do you even know WTF we're doing here???" 

Fun With Joey From Scranton

     Ever since he was vice-president during the Slappy Administration, I've always thought Pine Cone Joe was Comedy Gold (Trump is Comedy Orange, but that's another post for another day).

    The thing is, it keeps getting better and better.  Part of me hopes he NEVER goes away.

THIS deplorable lizard, on the other hand...

    So it is after the debate with the Dark Cheeto.

"Look, here's the deal.  I don't know who the loudmouth blonde broad is, but she promised me ice cream. 
And that's good enough for me.  No joke."


The hits keep coming.

 

80 Years Ago Today

 

I guarantee these men knew what their pronouns were

Prediction

 

                Mind you, I thoroughly enjoy giving you nonsense, but it’s high time I give you a little stuff.

Not that anyone reads these things, you understand.

                Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’d know that Donald Trump was found guilty of all charges by a New York City jury.  The media is calling them felonies, but, hey, one man’s misdemeanor is another man’s felony.

                Sentencing will be on July 11^th (which is, incidentally, my birthday) and could include jail time.  I doubt that will happen, but you never know.  The judge could be crazy enough to do it.

                We’ll see.

                In any event, it appears that the orange train hasn’t slowed one bit, despite the Left’s glee in announcing that the demented bag of oatmeal will now run against a convicted felon.  People who were for Trump refuse to lose hope in their messiah.  The trial, after all, was a rigged affair.

"Knew I shouldn't have had Taco Bell.  Don't know how Sleepy Joe does it."

"Just relax and let it flow.  It's nice and warm for a few seconds, no joke."

                In my opinion, how could there be any other result?  To think for one minute that Trump would get a fair trial in New York City with a Biden supporter presiding and a jury full of Democrats is ludicrous.  The best he could have hoped for was a hung jury.

                Still, I will admit that I was surprised that the jury ran the table with a guilty verdict.  Yet, I wasn’t surprised.

                To be fair, if the trial was held in Florida or Texas (save Austin), it wouldn’t have been any less rigged.  Just in the opposite direction.

                NOTE:  It is interesting to note that not a single city was torched or a Target looted the evening of the verdict.  Wonder what would have happened if it was Biden who was found guilty?  Come on, you know.

                In essence,  I don’t think much has changed.  People for the Delaware Vegetable are still for the Delaware Vegetable.  People for Orange Jesus are, by and large, still for Orange Jesus.  Some Independents may start leaning toward Big Cheeto, but probably not all.

                For instance, I still won’t vote for the guy.

                I hold cheating on your wife with the same disdain that I hold for a garbage human being who denies the existence of a granddaughter.

                The same garbage human being who was judged too old and feeble to undergo a trial himself.

                The Leader of the Free World…too old and feeble…WTAF?

                Biden will have rabid supporters no matter what (some not even in the nuthouse).

                Trump will have rabid supporters, no matter what.

                The key to the disaster looming in November is those in the middle.  There will be some who will hold their nose and vote for Corn Pop’s bitch.  They can’t stand him, but they loathe and fear Trump.

                Likewise, some will pull the lever (or punch a hole or blacken a circle or whatever) for Trump.  They don’t like him, but they fear Biden is the Demented Anti-Christ.

                You know, lesser of two evils stuff.

                Me?  I don’t want to vote for evil.  Lesser or otherwise.

                So, what am I going to do in six months?  I seriously don’t know.  Won’t vote for Biden.  More than likely won’t vote for Trump.

                The Libertarian candidate, like Gary Johnson in 2016, is nuts.  RFK, Jr.?  Dear Lord….

"I still can't get anyone to tell me where Aleppo is."

        But, my prediction? 

The indignation of a New York verdict in May will fade in November.  It’s the way we Americans, Left or Right, roll.

BONUS Prediction:  Hunter Biden will be found guilty of weapons charges, mostly because he IS guilty and the White House wants Americans to feel that the justice system is fair.

Then, President Poopy Pants pardons Jimmy Crack Pipe.

Nope, the American Legal System is okey-dokey.

Incidentally....

 

Happy Memorial Day?

 

    I wonder how many of you say that without realizing the last Monday in May is really not about the unofficial start of summer?

    NOTE:  Okay, I’ll grant you that June, July, and August are pretty cold in the Southern Hemisphere, which sounds like a crappy deal for our friends down under.  Until you stop to consider they also don’t have Joe Biden and Donald Trump.

    NOTE FOLLOWING A NOTE:  That last sentence is sure to tick off both sides of the aisle.  You’re welcome.

    On the other hand, Australia does have Olivia Newton-John.  Well, did.  Well, they do have Steve Irwin.  What?  Oh, eff.  Forget it.  Mate.  

    Lost among the hoopla of backyard barbecues blissfully free of Bud Light, fireworks (for those looking to get a jump on Independence Day...and their neighbors’ nerves), trips to Jersey beaches (to watch the annual washing ashore of mob hits), and tropical storms (in Florida) is the true purpose behind Memorial Day.

"It's Clydesdale piss which identifies as beer."

    Decoration Day, recognition of those who gave their lives in the Civil War, was proclaimed on May 5th, 1868, by General John Logan of the Grand Army of the Republic (“Grand.”  Well, weren’t they all full of themselves?).  Planned for May 30th, it drew former foes together to plant flowers and otherwise spruce up graves of war dead from North and South alike at Arlington National Cemetery.

The only civil war in American history. 
 Unless there's a sequel, of course.

"That's kinda depressing."

    NOTE: Which, incidentally, is on the site of Robert E. Lee’s home.  Don’t try to tell me the North couldn’t be vindictive pricks.

    To be sure, women in the South were also “decorating” gravesites of their dead from the “Great Cause,” when they weren’t saying “Bless your heart” or “Kiss my grits.”  In fact, some sources state that those practices even predated the end of the war.  What’s more, some states in Dixie even had their own Decoration Days, mostly in May.

"Lemme ask you, you think Scarlett O'Hara would ever do this?"
"Right?  She's so full of shit."
"Bless her heart."
"Exactly."

     NOTE:  For my non-American friends (and products of the public school system), the American Civil War (or “War of Northern Aggression”-sheesh, those people can really hold a grudge.  At least they weren’t vindictive pricks, though.) took place between 1861 and 1865 between the “North” and the “South.”  I could bore you with the whys, whens, and whats about one of our most horrific conflicts (this side of a college campus), but I won’t.  Let’s just put it this way:  a lot of people died and the blue team won.  Oh, and it wasn’t technically a “civil” war.  Because, let’s face it, there’s nothing civil about getting your head blown off by a cannon ball.

"Hey, General Burnside, doesn't it bother you that some of the men are wearing what they call 'sideburns?' 
"Naw.  Could be worse."
"Worse?  How?"
"Well, I could be General Hooker."

    Decoration Day remained an observance of Civil War dead up until after the First World War.  Following one of history’s most idiotic conflicts (which didn’t end up being the “war to end all wars” after all.  Dumbasses.), it was decided that May 30th would be set aside to honor all American war dead.

    NOTE:  And those who lost their lives during peacetime in service to their country.

    The name, however, stuck until it officially changed to Memorial Day in 1967.  No matter what it was called, though, Americans throughout the nation took time to honor the fallen.

    What seemed to many a civic duty began to fade after Congress passed the Holiday Act of 1971.  An effort to consolidate some federal holidays into three-day weekends, it shifted Memorial Day to the last Monday in May.  The inexorable transformation from solemn tribute to summertime bacchanal had begun.

    I try my best not to be a crank about the avalanche of car commercials, barbecue tips shows, or “ABBA to ZZ Top-The Memorial Countdown of the 500 Most Popular Hits of the 70s, 80s, 90s, and Whatever the Frik We Call the First Decade of the 21st Century!”  It’s hard not to get caught up in the hype of a country poised at the brink of gloriously warm weather (sorry, Aussies) and summer reruns.  Hey, I like to walk around with my shirt off and scare wildlife like any other middle-aged guy.

    Still, I remember when Memorial Day used to be about the Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine, and Coast Guardsman.  Parades, wreath-layings, air shows, flag-raisings:  those were what I remember.

Or whatever the frik it is these nerds are called.

    But, if I think back really hard (that sounds dirty), I also remember my shirtless father (I’m still in therapy) incinerating hot dogs from Shop Rite on the grill while listening to Best of the Ventures on his 8-Track player.  All while we played fetch with our dog-using my little brother’s bathing suit.  With my little brother still in it.

"Okay, kids, who wants dogs?  Dad's charring them!"

    When we weren’t playing catch with the Lawn Darts, that is.

    Ahhhhh, good times.

We are going to miss Uncle Chet, though.

    So, when I get up Monday morning, I’m going to fly my flag before heading off to see the Memorial Day parade.  I’ll place my hand over my heart when the national anthem is played at the wreath-laying.  And hang on to every word spoken by a veteran from either the American Legion or the VFW.

    Then, I’ll go home to see if I can cook a hot dog better than my dad.

    Now that I think of it, I guess the saying fits:

    Happy Memorial Day!

    Still, never forget it should also be Blessed Memorial Day.

    Two things can be true at the same time, ya know.

    Like Joe Biden and Donald Trump can both be old geezers who suck.       

Happy Easter!

    If you've been reading this blog for a while, you'd know that today is Orthodox Catholic Easter.  And you'd know why.  I'm not going to educate you as to its origins.  If you want to know, go back and read my earlier posts.  Or not.  In fact,  you may not even be reading this now.  If not, who am I writing to?

"You think we can get Easter candy on sale?"
"Seriously, Greg?  You're still using that old joke?"
"Not funny?"
"Once.  Now, it's no better than when Al keeps using 'when the moon is in its summer house' joke."

"And Jupiter aligns with Mars!"

    

    Anyway...

    A month ago, I was talking to my wife about the early Spring holidays.  Me, being Roman Catholic, commented that MY Easter happened on March 31st which had something to do with the moon.

"A planet made of gas."

    If you don't know, like I said, earlier posts....

    She, being Jewish, remarked that Passover would be a week after that.

    Ball of gas thing.  Again.

    But,  Russian, Ukrainian, Greek, and others will observe Orthodox Easter today, May 5th.

    I'm not sure who all.  At any rate, it's all Greek to me.

   Then, she told me that Mexico will also celebrate on the same day.

   NOTE:  I swear I said this.

   "Huh,"  I commented, "I didn't know Mexicans observed Orthodox Easter."

    She stared at me and deadpanned,  "Cinco de Mayo."

    Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.....................................

    So, for those who celebrate that, Happy Cinco de Mayo (it's pretty much an American excuse to get sloshed at places like Las Palmas).

    But, hey, fish tacos, salsa, and Dos Equis.

"Murica.  Ole."

   And to those Mexicans celebrating Easter today, I'm sorry, the chocolate bunnies have either been sold or put up for next year.

Out On a Limb

     Okay, I'm going to go out on a limb here, but I'm going to defend Joe Biden (for perhaps the very first, and last, time).

"Thank you very much.  Who's Joe Biden?"

    Sure, he's a demented clown (as opposed to an orange one), but he's been taking quite a rap over his statement that his Uncle Ambrose was probably eaten by cannibals while flying over New Guinea during World War II.

    Absolutely, some of the memes are hilarious and I usually always chuckle or laugh out loud when I see them.  His critics are having a heyday with what they perceive is the latest gaffe from America's premiere Gaffe Machine.

One of my favorites

    The Scranton Pine Cone is known for saying the most outlandish things when he he isn't mumbling some incoherent bit of gibberish. 

    And this latest pronouncement by the Scourge of Corn Pop seems beyond the pale in its ridiculousness.  I mean, come on, cannibals?  In the 20th Century?  Yer kiddin', right?.

    The thing is, there actually were cannibals in the South Pacific during the war.  In fact, there were reports of cannibalism on New Guinea itself.  

  

"So, me and my mates were wondering what to make for dinner.  None of us had a clue, but then, wouldn't you know, special delivery.  It was like Door Dash."

    In fact in fact, when I asked Siri if there was cannibalism, my trusty (?) AI girlie stated "The government of New Guinea is discouraging the practice of cannibalism."

"As Prime Minister of New Guinea, I'm proud to tell you that my country is one of the most beautiful destinations in the Pacific.  Sure, someone may eat you, but you really should check out our waterfalls." 

   Wait.  WHAT!?  Discouraging?  You mean, like in the 21st Century??

    So, while people scoff at the latest from Joey, he may, in fact, have a point.  Uncle "Bosey" may have crashed his plane in New Guinea and, since his body was never found, he may have been eaten by cannibals.

    Unfortunately, anything that Joey from Scranton says is immediately questioned and ultimately ridiculed.  He, like Trump, is his own worst enemy.

"Quite frankly, I am a stable genius."

    However, his cannibal story may have an element of truth.

    After all, I suppose stranger things have happened.

    Like thinking little kids enjoy rubbing the hair on your legs in the pool.

"And I love little kids rubbing my leg, or sitting on my lap, or fetching me some...uh...anyway."

Happy Passover

      A good lot of you have already celebrated Easter.  Like weeks ago.  

"Weeks ago!?  You should have told me, Mr. Great Pumpkin!  No joke."

    Yes, yes, I know, for some reason Orthodox Easter is still to come on May 5th, but I'm talking Easter Bunny Easter.  That Easter has been over for quite a while.  If you doubt that, you don't see chocolate bunnies at the grocery store, do you?  Also, if you doubt that, you're an idiot.

"What?  Even the Peeps?  Man, that sucks."
"Nice hat, though."
"Well, it's cold, but thank you."

     Recognized by Christians worldwide as the most sacred day in the year, Easter is a time to reflect on the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, a carpenter's son from Nazareth.

     But, hey, did you know (okay most do), that Jesus was a rabbi?  That He, along with His followers, was in Jerusalem to celebrate Passover, one of the most sacred days of the Jewish calendar?

    No, he wasn't Catholic, despite what Sister Mary Gregory of the Titanium Yardstick tried to beat into you.

     In fact, the Last Supper was actually a Passover Seder.

"Now just wait one damn minute, I think this is a chick."
"Well, she smells nice."
"Whatever.  Can I order a BLT?"
"Not until Sunday!  Jesus!"
"What?"

     To further blow your mind, the word "Easter" is derived from "Pesach" which is derived from "Passover."  Exactly why, where, how, what I don't feel like looking up right now.  Just trust me.  It's true.

     No, despite what Cecil B. De Mille would have you believe (if he wasn't dead), The Ten Commandments, while playing on ABC annually on Easter Night (God knows-no pun intended-when or where it's on now) is not an Easter movie.

     King of Kings?  Yeah.  The Robe?  Okay.  Ben-Hur?  Sure.  Ben Gay?

     But, The Ten Commandments?  Oy.     

     Passover is a Jewish (I think we've already covered that) celebration which commemorates the exodus (so THAT explains the book) of the Hebrews from Egypt, way back when Keith Richards was a  teenager.

     They were led by Charlton Heston, who if he’d only kept his trap shut, could have eventually become Pharaoh (or at least Vice-Pharaoh) and freed the slaves.  Along the way, he could also have bagged the hot Nefertiri (not to be confused with ‘Nefertiti.’  Who was in The Mummy.  But, she was hot, too).  Then, Ramses (aka Yul Brynner), inventor of the prophylactic, wouldn’t have donned the royal loincloth and bedded Anne Baxter.

Nipples not photo-shopped out. 
I know you zoomed. 
NOTE:  I made this "Extra Large."  You're welcome.

     But, noooooo, Moses just had to schlep out into the desert, raise some sheep, marry a shepherd chick, open the Midian chapter of the NRA, and meet God (who did not look like George Burns).

 

Gotta admit, Lily Munster cleans up pretty nice. 
She's no Nefertiri, though.

     Moses, heeding a divine call, decided to go back to Egypt to free the slaves.  Imagine Ramses’ chagrin when the “Big Mo” barged into meetings of the Pyramid Planning Commission, waved his stick around (double entendre intended), and ordered his BFF, Aaron, to turn goats into chickens.  And grass stains into dazzling whites.

"Nice beard."
"Nice babushka.  I'm gonna send you Trump, you know."

     Moses warned that a series of plagues would be visited on Egypt: frogs, locusts, boils (eww), bloody water, Donald Trump, irritable bowel syndrome (double eww), etc.  Each were meant to convince Yul Pharaoh to “let the people go.” 

"And I must tell you, my great-great-great-great-great-oh he was so greatgrandfather Imhotrumptekkhennaten designed the most excellent, if not breathtaking, of pyramids which were nothing like those loser pyramids in Central America-much better than that ridiculous step pyramid designed by a previous administration's builder, to be sure-present in all the world not unlike a thing of massive beauty to behold that have withstood the test of Time, Newseek, or any of the other fake news publications which seek to bring America down even though our great country had not yet
been invented."

     They were actually starting to work, too, until Ramses looked at the latest Gallup poll numbers.  Figuring he had to satisfy his “pro-slavery” base, his heart was hardened and he called the whole deal off.

     Moses eventually had enough of this crap.  He told Ramses that the first-born of Egypt would be slain in punishment for enslaving his people.  This included (cue dramatic music) the Pharaoh’s own son!

     NOTE:  I think this was true, at least according to the movie.  The film industry was pretty truthful sixty years ago.  Even though I still didn't think monkeys could fly, Hollywood wouldn't lie to me.

     The Hebrews, feeling pretty damned cocky, painted sheep blood over their doors.  They felt quite safe that death would “pass” them “over.”  (Get it now?).  Mostly because Death got wicked skeeved at the sight of blood.

     So, they hung out while the “Destroyer” (depicted by a red cloud.  Special effects were kinda cheesy back before Industrial Light and Magic) went door to door seeking out Egyptians who won a lottery they hadn't reckoned on.

"Hey, you see that red cloud going door to door?
Should we follow it?"
"Couldn't hurt."

      The Hebrews sang songs, prayed prayers, and ate unleavened bread called "matzah" (because Dominos stopped delivering at 10).

"Then, when we're done, we can play a little game of 'Old Testament Yahtzee.' 
Would you like that?"

     When the day dawned and Ramses saw the mess (“Now, we’ll never get that blood out!”), he ordered Moses to pack up his shit and get the hell out.

     NOTE:  Ramses may not have said ‘shit.’

     So, Moses jumped for Joy (his sister-in-law) and convinced everybody to pack their toothbrushes and change of underwear.  He wasn’t exactly sure where they'd be going, though.  Unfortunately, Aaron had turned his map into an origami whooping crane.

"We should be headed here.  I think.  Damn Aaron."

     Bottom line, the Hebrews finally left Egypt.  Along the way, the Egyptian Army went for a one-way dip in the Red Sea, Edward G. Robinson talked a lot of smack, Aaron was forced to make some seriously effed-up looking calf, they all got jiggy with their bad selves at the base of Mount Sinai, Moses saw a wicked cool light show on the mountain, and had bread fall out of the sky for breakfast, lunch, and dinner (“So would it kill God to send us a nice brisket?”). 

"Yeah, see, Dathan doesn't think he's miscast, see?"

     They were finally allowed to enter the Promised Land after 40 years (the prior tenants had a wicked long-term lease).

     Since I’m sure I've put you to sleep by now, let me finish by saying that Moses wasn’t even allowed to enter with the rest of his people (he didn’t get his wrist stamped). 

     He had to watch while Joshua (played in the movie by John Derek.  Before he married Bo and died) led his people into...Canaan?  

At any rate, someplace the Iranians would get all hacked off about eventually.

     I think it had something to do with smacking a rock to get water.  Which was a mistake.    

     Because, as we all know, paper, not water, covers rock.     Now, since I'm probably in hot water with Christians, Jews, and more than likely Muslims, I'd better start packing for Purgatory.

     I'm sure I'll be spending a lot of time there.

     At least that's what Sister Mary Gregory said.