Sunday, August 30, 2015

Muddy Reflections on a Dope: Donald Trump and the Fall of the American Empire

“I’m empty and aching and I don’t know why
Counting the cars on the New Jersey Turnpike
They’ve all come to look for America” – Paul Simon

“He must be from Krypton.” – Chris Matthews

"You know, it doesn't really matter what [the media] writes as long as you've got a young and beautiful piece of ass."  – Donald Trump

I tackle this onerous topic with some trepidation. What Trump desires more than anything else in the world is attention and promotion, continued and constant celebrity.  Whether that camera and microphone time results in positive or negative notoriety is irrelevant, the search for the ceaseless spotlight is the sole objective; a pathological need fitting his spot-on profile as a sociopath, which Trump irrefutably is.

And surely, he suffers not for lack of exposure, frequently featured as the singular subject of uncritical conversation on Chris Matthews’ “Hardball," viewers nightly suffer through Matthews' unrequited affection and adoration for the Donald as seen through the twinkle in Chris’s eyes and the girlish giggle on his lips, whenever covering his newest heartthrob. Donald is to Chris as Davy Jones is to Marcia Brady (cue the animated hearts around his head.) And Trump is almost as often propagandized on the entirety of the MSNBC 24 hour schedule (by design of new management, gradually morphing into a Fox News clone) with the possible exception of “Lock Up.” However, should the SEC ever conduct a proper and thorough investigation of Trump’s business dealings, that programming possibility could arise, as well.  

"When Mexico sends its people … they are bringing drugs and they are bringing crime and their rapists." – Donald Trump

I hesitantly join this non-stop Trump publicity machine for although he has indeed been exposed more than a Jenner/Kardashian posterior, Trump’s own posterior has been habitually bussed but seldom disparaged. The, too often, under-served voter needs to see not just the tactless, boorish, yet entertaining carnival barker, but also the genuinely egomaniacal, megalomaniacal,  monstrous and potentially dangerous demagogue that lurks  beneath the unparalled and colossal comical comb-over.

This pathetic, self-serving, circus act of a man in Chinese manufactured, self-labeled polyester, who speaks and acts only in service to his own glory, a man who never met a mirror he didn’t like, who considers the biblical passage “you shall have no other gods before me,” a reference to himself, has been an incessant, international embarrassment to our country, our democracy and our electoral system.

"You make me feel brand new. 'Cause God blessed me with you."

Trump had Jorge Ramos, a highly-respected, Latino-American journalist man-handled by his security and physically removed from a press conference, and not a single other reporter spoke up or departed in a show of solidarity or protestation. “White Power” has rung out at his rallies, and the most prominent neo-Nazi and White Supremacist groups are endorsing his campaign and Presidential aspirations, for as so many of his supporters spout, “he is one of us.”

“I have black guys counting my money. … I hate it. The only guys I want counting my money are short guys that wear yarmulkes all day.” – Donald Trump

“I don’t have a racist bone in my body.” – Donald Trump

In this ugly age of Trump, there are few answers, but myriad, shameless questions. If he is correct about the current character of the American citizenry, if the vociferous voices of those who back and boost his unbearable beliefs are an accurate indication of where we now are as a nation and of how far we’ve morally fallen as a people, the vision and dream of our founders is truly doomed. Could it possibly be that admiration and respect for such worthy leaders as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King has been superseded by a veneration for the likes of Donald Trump, Sarah Palin, Ted Cruz and Pat Robertson, those of little decency, integrity or intelligence who wish to lead us down a path of societal destruction through self-aggrandizement?

“You have to treat ‘em (women) like shit.” – Donald Trump

Are we really the intolerant, ignorant, childish, petty, hateful, vindictive people that Donald Trump believes us, wants us and ultimately needs and is counting on us to be? A five time draft dodger, he demeans those who have served and suffered for it, and a nation applauds.  He refers to women as bimbos, pigs, ugly, disgusting, whose proper place is on their knees in front of him, and his polls rise. He blames the poor, the powerless, the disenfranchised, those with the least, for the relatively, non-existent problems of the wealthy, the powerful and the advantaged, and gathers praise. Although betrothing two women from foreign lands, he ridicules the accents, manner, traditions, behavior and customs of minority communities and recent immigrants, labeling them as rapists (an offense for which he has been accused) and violent criminals, and assures himself the Republican nomination. And, should he ever move on to the comical condemnation of the physically and mentally handicapped, the only remaining population he’s yet to scorn, will the American public still continue its mindless and cruel affirmation of Trump’s animosities?

A Moe and a Larry in search of their Curly

"He's (John McCain) not a war hero because he was captured. I like people that weren't captured."– Donald Trump

Are we no longer the free and liberty-laden land of the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights, the Voting Act? Are we now a nation of full rights only for the privileged few, the country that Donald Trump envisions? If so, I would wish to be no part of that U.S.A. Yet, as tempting as it might be to make the melodramatic and usually empty threat of future expatriation, as was so common among the Conservative corps surrounding both of President Obama’s successful elections, the practicality is questionable. Rather than true Americans departing for more amenable shores, we must use our voices, our pens, our ballots and our rights, while they still exist, to battle this unseemly wave of Right Wing detestation, xenophobia and chauvinism, and this preening peacock of a little man who arrogantly symbolizes only the worst of who we are. Impeding the further advancement of Donald Trump is not a choice, but a necessity, for the health, the legitimacy, and the very future of the United States of America.

“… she does have a very nice figure. I’ve said if Ivanka weren’t my daughter, perhaps I’d be dating her.” - Donald Trump

The Decline of Democracy. The Ascent of Idiocracy.

“Let us be lovers, we’ll marry our fortunes together
I’ve got some real estate here in my bag
So we bought a pack of cigarettes and Mrs. Wagner’s pies
And walked off to look for America” - Paul Simon

 Any comments, questions, criticisms, candid confessions, cash contributions?  Contact me at butchersaprons@mail.com.

Thursday, August 20, 2015

Baby Ka-Boom: The Rise of the Terror Baby (Revisited)

Way back, in an ancient time known as 2010, Republican Iowa Representative Steve King, a man far more frightening than the prolific horror author of similar nomenclature, was pushing the controversial concept of anchor babies. So extreme and so ludicrous was this nutty notion that he was laughed at like a million purposefully set-up crotch clouts on America's Funniest Home Videos. 

Now, it is 2015, like the Flintstones, a modern prehistoric era, when the Grand Old Party has reversed the clock and the calendar to lead us into a period of prejudice, intolerance, ignorance, hatred of all not-white, not-Christian, not-wealthy, and fear of both the female and those who promote history, facts and scientific belief.

Spearheading this deadly devolution of our great but clearly deteriorating nation is the current head of the Republican party - a spoiled, malevolent, philistine with a coyote pup on his head, a yellow stripe down his back, and a song of sociopathic, vainglorious enmity in his heart - Donald Trump. He, of little thought, tact, talent or ability, as worthless a human being as fiction could fabricate, has revived the nefarious notion of anchor babies. And, in current days, when what was once the extreme has become the Conservative norm, his intolerant cry has been seconded by all the other lemming-like losers who seek the nomination of the pachyderm party.

Here, before you, I re-present a blog post on this sorrowful subject from 2010. Usually, l would happily brag of my prescience. Today, I wish it weren't so.


Baby Ka-Boom: The Rise of the Terror Baby

“They’re coming to get you, Barbara” - Night of the Living Dead

Modern day Republicans spread lies like Elvis spread bacon fat on fried banana sandwiches – with enthusiasm, gusto and pride. And, as with Elvis, while they might enjoy some short term gain, in the long run, there’s bound to be undesirable consequences. They’ve lied to you about the grand malevolence of gay marriage, for instance. Regarding the recent ruling in the Golden State, disgraced and forced to resign former Speaker of the House, Newt Gingrich, had this to say -

“Judge Walker's ruling overturning Prop 8 is an outrageous disrespect for our Constitution and for the majority of people of the United States who believe marriage is the union of husband and wife.”

This is a topic of some expertise for Newt, as this thrice married, serial philanderer does know a thing or two about destroying marriages. But, unless a straight couple and a gay couple are trying to book the same Saturday in June, or are fighting over the last Lennox gravy boat in stock at Macy’s needed to complete their settings, I just don’t see the problem.

Then there’s Death Panels - a concept that came to Sarah Palin when she nodded off one night, mukluks in place after one too many hot toddies, during a Cinemax showing of Logan’s Run.

But, of course, the vast majority of right-wing political “truth-stretching” involves the legitimately, legally elected, Barack Obama whom, they have taught us, is a Kenyan born, Marxist, Nazi, Islamic terrorist trying to brainwash American school children and traveling the world to espouse the evils of the country he has set out to destroy - the United States. To delve into such a disparate and desperate level of prevarication there is obviously something about him that the right is just not O-KKK with. I wish I could put my finger on it.

And now, there’s the latest bit of fear-mongering from the GOP, and by far my personal favorite, scary babies! Apparently, thinking that there’s no bridge too far for the Snuggie buying, American public they want you to fear babies - Evil Death Babies! Now, the Evil Death Babies (patent pending - heretofore to be referred to as EDBs) come in two categories depending on which constituency your representative is pandering to at the time. For people who distrust Jimmy Smits, the EDBs are called Anchor Babies. If, instead, you’re suspicious of Christiane Amanpour, then the EDB’s are called Terror Babies - a much more colorful and dramatic moniker. I’m not precisely sure how the Terror Baby plan is supposed to work, as I’m not clinically insane, but I do know that it involves terrorist moms coming here, giving birth to new American citizen EDB’s (curse that 14th Amendment) taking them back home to Terrorkistan, where they then spend the next 30 years teaching them to hate the New York Yankees, TGI-Fridays and relaxed fit jeans with built-in-comfort, elastic waist bands

However, while universally recognized as a crafty, very dangerous and thoroughly fictional foe, there are ways to defend against and disarm the Terror Baby. They can, for example, be easily distracted for long periods of time by the mere jangling of shiny keys in front of their cherubic, yet vile, faces. If you wish to momentarily win over a TB (Terror Baby) it is believed that they utterly enjoy the company of a doggy, particularly a “Mommy, look a big doggy,“ doggy. So be sure to stay well stocked, canine-wise, at all times. But, the most valuable and lethal of all the weapons at your disposal is, of course, the binky. Nothing is more effective than the well-timed placement of a binky into the depraved, little, foul mouth of your cunning adversary. Once lulled by the comforting sensations of said binky, the baby can then be apprehended and brought to justice where the little demon will eventually be placed, without benefit of trial or hearing, in the Terror Baby Wing of Gitmo - Elmo.

If only the far-right weren’t so reckless, mean-spirited and poisonous - and such a danger to our nation, its people and its future - they would be so amusing.

Friday, August 14, 2015

Signs of the Apocalypse, Part 2 – GOP Presidential Campaign Posters

“I wonder who they are
The men who really run this land
And I wonder why they run it
With such a thoughtless hand” – David Crosby

Welcome to the thrilling, chilling and never-ending saga of the 2016 Republican Presidential carnival, fun house and freak show. You’ve waited all week. You’ve been at the edge of your Barcalounger. What little slumber you’ve managed has been fitful and excruciatingly unsatisfying. You’ve suffered our shared national indignation in the non-stop, 24 hour press coverage of every Donald Trump utterance, act and bodily function. MSNBC, once the sole television voice of Progressive America has degraded itself in its transformation into “All Donald, All the Time” and the once proud U.S. of A. stoops humbled and humiliated, a Dogpatchian Hooterville in the eyes and estimation of the international community. Ancient, cave-dwelling, hidden civilizations, lacking in language or alphabet, gape, wide-eyed and slack-jawed in astonishment at a culture so enthralled and enchanted by the obvious and oblivious, malicious-minded missing link who prowls the gaudy, gold-plated halls of Trump Tower and other such bejeweled and bedazzled brothels, as they consider us with justified attitudes of deserved superiority, and wretched sympathy.

But, as surely as there is a God in Heaven (whoops, regular readers will recall my avowed atheism) this I swear to you, sanity and sensibility will once again regain a foothold and reign supreme, and our long national nightmare will reach its blessed conclusion, for, finally, “… and several butcher’s aprons” proudly presents its heralded and highly anticipated presentation of part 2 of “Signs of the Apocalypse – GOP Presidential Campaign Posters” (a bit too much of a build-up?) When last we met, the lampooning of the GOP herd commenced with the ten participants who debated in the evening hours. This week hence, we close with suggested slogans for the lesser polling seven who contended while the sun still shone and we worker bees yet toiled.

For those interested in the earlier installment, please follow this link. For those utterly apathetic about it, feel free to do the same, but don’t restrain your resentment.

As is always the case, the comically captioned pictures can be enlarged for clearer comprehension with but a single, magical mouse click.

For a little extra course credit, one gratis, additional debate related jape -

“What are their names
And on what streets do they live?
I'd like to ride right over
This afternoon and give
Them a piece of my mind
About peace for mankind
Peace is not an awful lot
To ask”

From “If I Could Only Remember My Name,” David Crosby’s 1971 debut solo album, “What are their Names?”

Any comments, questions, criticisms, candid confessions, cash contributions?  Contact me at butchersaprons@mail.com.

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Signs of the Apocalypse, Part 1 – GOP Presidential Campaign Posters

“Segregation, determination, demonstration, integration
Aggravation, humiliation, obligation to my nation
Ball of confusion” – Whitfield/Strong

If you’re like me, (well, I’m genuinely sorry, I understand there are very effective medications that can be of some help now) the start of the debate season officially kicking off the 2016 Presidential Campaign is your Christmas Eve, your honeymoon, your opportunity to finally order this year’s Girl Scout Cookies from that pushy and obnoxious co-worker, who has yet to produce any substantial evidence of actually having a daughter.  MSNBC is our Playboy Channel and the voting booth, our peep show.

If you viewed the GOP debates earlier this week, the prime time varsity game and the early bird special JV scrimmage (again, my most sincere sympathies) you were witness to the unfortunate fact that, much like the arousal-challenged older gentlemen in the television Cialis ads, these twelve dozen or so fumbling, flailing and flaccid participants could benefit from some earnestly intended outside assistance and support in successfully launching their election erections, and maintaining even the slimmest of hopes in challenging the inevitable (just ask her) Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton in the vote tally tournament that will determine the next four year occupant of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Being the loving, caring, sympathetic and charitable sorts that we are here at “… and several butcher’s aprons,” (the Oprah’s of annoying attitudinal blogs) please allow us to rush swiftly, if not even fool-heartedly, into the breach, with this presentation of new Republican campaign posters, a unique one for each of the 365 declared candidates.

Due to the unusually large number of constitutional combatants this time around, this edition will be divided into two separate postings. Today, we begin with the lucky ten who topped the polling and so advanced into the 9 pm evening finals. In half a fortnight (for those of you not an 18th century fop, a week), you will find the follow up, featuring the set of seven who competed while we all commuted home from our places of employment (or were watching Judge Mathis, instead.)

Enjoy. Share with friends. Share with the candidates. Share the love. Each meme can be enlarged for easier reading with a mere click of the mouse.

As the legendary, tempting Temptations so eloquently and alarmingly expressed it, “Great googamooga, can't you hear me talking to you? It’s a ball of confusion.”

Any comments, questions, criticisms, candid confessions, cash contributions?  Contact me at butchersaprons@mail.com.