Flash Fiction #245

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

THE PARTY’S OVER NOW

The band, Semisonic, got a one-time-only, one-song-only chance to play their hit, Closing Time, at the White House, for El Trumpo’s going-away party.

Gather up your jackets and make it to the exits
You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!
Every new beginning’s from some other beginning’s end

This place is deserted.
Where is my cabinet?
You exiled or alienated most of them sire.

Where’s Pence?
You had him beheaded, sire.

Where is Melania?
She and Barron abandoned ship, and are swimming to put as much distance between you as they can, before we sink sire.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

’20 A To Z Challenge – N

Where’s a good old insult when you really need one, especially when there are a plethora of politicians who so richly deserve one??!

The quality of leaders in the developed world has seriously deteriorated.  At its inception, Canada had Sir John A. MacDonald.  He drank like life was one long frat-boy party.  He was only slightly less racist than his contemporaries, but he knit together a handful of disparate colonies into a Dominion that became what Canada is today.

William Lyon Mackenzie King was Canada’s longest serving Prime Minister.  He did it in two stretches.  He got voted out, then later got voted back in, from the end of the ‘30s to the end of the ‘40s.  He got us out of the Great Depression, though World War II, and put Canada – and the UK – back on its feet.

He was a Mama’s boy who frequented psychics and séances.  He thought that the Parliament Buildings were haunted.  More recently, two MPs were conversing near the elevator.  Neither had pushed the button, but down it came.  When the door opened, and there was no-one inside, one looked in and said, “Good day, Mister King.”

It all began to go bad with Pierre Trudeau.  He had – not one, but two – sons born on Christmas Day, so he always thought that he was one better than God.  Already famous for his Salmon Arm Salute, https://archonsden.wordpress.com/2020/05/11/20-a-to-z-challenge-c/ he violated protocol and photo-bombed Queen Elizabeth herself, by pirouetting behind her like a drunken – or gay – ballet dancer, at an official photo session.  Richard Nixon described him as “an asshole.”  His response was that he had been called worse things, by better men.  I’m sure that’s true – lots of them.

The Excited States has had the Emancipation Proclamation, Honest Abe Lincoln.  There was, We have nothing to fear but fear itself, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, and The Buck stops here, Harry S Truman.  The middle ‘S’ is not an initial, but an entire name, honoring two grandfathers with ‘S’ names.  He once told a group of high-society garden club ladies, that the White House roses grew so well because his gardeners added lots of manure.  One of the snootier women complained to his wife about his use of the vulgar word manure.  Bess replied that it had taken her 20 years, just to get him to use that word.

It is hard for a Canadian to judge where and when America began slipping off the rails.  It might have been with I am not a crook Nixon.  I think that it was somewhere between the two Bushes – Sr. and Jr. – although Burning Bush Senior’s declaration that Atheists should not be allowed to be citizens or patriots, indicates that the rot had already set in.  Slick Willy Clinton’s presidency could have been a skit written by the Three Stooges.

This brings us to Justin Trudeau, Donald Trump, and (finally) the theme for this N post.  Even Bugs Bunny https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=14KTu4i27j8 agrees that each of them is a

NINCOMPOOP

A fool or simpleton
From Latin: non compos mentis – not of sound mind; mentally incapable of managing one’s affairs.

Trudeau-Lite is such a nincompoop that even Trump doesn’t bother to call him an asshole.  Trump is not fit to manage his own affairs, much less the nation’s.  He believes conspiracy theories, thinks that we should drink drain cleaner to combat COVID, and has gone bankrupt more times than George W. Mission Accomplished Bush – and that’s a low bar.

Both these two – and others – are victims of the Dunning-Kruger Effect. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dunning%E2%80%93Kruger_effect#:~:text=In%20the%20field%20of%20psychology%2C%20the%20Dunning%E2%80%93Kruger%20effect,of%20people%20to%20recognize%20their%20lack%20of%20ability.  They are so dumb that they don’t realize how dumb they are.  Leaders used to be LEADERS – socially, politically, morally, intellectually, culturally.  Now, doofuses like this are Cult Leaders – a Cult of Personality.  They don’t so much get elected by the voters; they just win the most likes in a Twitter-storm, or a Facebook octagon match.

I would like to say that we deserve better, but if WE, as nations, vote these clowns into the positions of Chief Executive Nincompoop, we deserve the governments we get, and (collectively) we are the nincompoops.  Think carefully – I’ll settle for just think – before you vote.   👿

’18 A To Z Challenge – L

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anything worth doing is….worth overdoing.
If you’re like the wife and I, when you reach our age, you’ll have too much of everything – except money.

The wife’s adopted totem is the

LADYBUG

which is why she used to blog under the pseudonym, GranmaLadybug.

We (she) have ladybugs of all sorts and sizes.  On the metallic whiteboard in the kitchen, where we write shopping lists and notes, she has 12 little-fingernail size magnetic ladybugs, along with a 1½ inch plastic one.  On the side of the filing cabinet in the computer room, there are 6 thumb-nail sized magnets.

The little timer in the laundry room is a 2-inch ladybug.  We have a 2-inch fabric one that is supposed to be a pin-cushion, but sits on a display shelf with other curios.  There’s a 3 inch wooden one, stuck to the fridge, and a 4 inch stained glass one on the wall above the computer.

I found a 3 inch plastic child’s toy one in a mall parking lot.  When you squeeze it, it lights up, and we hung a 4 inch framed cross-stitch version beside the kitchen whiteboard.  She has three sets of ladybug earrings, and a ladybug pendant necklace, some ladybug stickers, and a ladybug stamp that she adds to birthday cards and personal notes.

The grandson and fiancée bought her a wooden step-stool with painted ladybugs all over it.  She set up my new computer so that I click on an icon labeled Archon to fire it up, but she’s not fooling me.  There’s a ladybug above my name.  There used to be a 6 inch ladybug whirligig in the garden, but after years of exposure to plastic-destroying ultra-violet radiation, the madly spinning wings have disintegrated.

Aside from being cute, ladybugs are useful.  They eat things like aphids, which suck the sap out of the gardener-wife’s pretty flowers.  Until recently, all local ladybugs were a good solid red color.  Like the Asian zebra mussels which now infest the Great Lakes, and the Asian carp in the Chicago River, that we’re trying to keep out of the Great Lakes, we now have Asian ladybugs.  They’re more Crayola crayon orange.  If one should happen to land on you, they can give a nasty little bite.

When President Kennedy was assassinated, Texan VP, Lyndon Johnson took over, and we found that his wife was known as ‘Ladybird.’  I thought nothing of that cute name, but recently found that, especially in the Southern United States, it means the same as ‘Ladybug.’  In the heat of the South, they must grow them big, to call them ‘birds.’

I recently took an online IQ test.  I only scored 133, disappointingly below the 140 level needed to get me into Mensa.  Ahhh….I wouldn’t want to be a member of a group who would accept me as a member.  One of the ‘questions’ was a picture with the black outline of a Victorian woman in a bustled dress with a parasol.  Beside it was the black outline of a crow, or raven.  This represented….?  A: mammal, B: reptile, C: bird, D: insect.  Hmmm…a lady, and a bird.  I picked D: insect, because I speak a little Redneck.

I hope I haven’t bugged you with my Babylon babbling.  I hope to see you here again, soon.  😀

WOW #33

This week’s word is for the Millennials.   It is

BLAMESTORMING

Once upon a time, not really that long ago, most folks possessed honesty, and strength of character.  They took responsibility for their own actions and mistakes.  Now, with entitlement piling up like Trump’s tweets against the non-existent Mexican wall, nobody admits to nuthin’.  No matter who you ask or accuse – they were facing north, when things went south.

Definition of blamestorming

The process of assigning blame for an outcome or situation.

Origin of blamestorming

Blamestorming was originally a colloquialism in American English, modeled on the much earlier (1907) brainstorming. It entered English in the 1990s.

“I cannot tell a lie.  I chopped down the cherry tree.” was a loooonngg time ago.  ‘No guts – No glory’ is taking on a sadly different meaning.  Far too few people have the guts to take responsibility for their own decisions and actions.  President Harry Truman would be disappointed to find an America populated with consequence-avoiding wimps who have changed his famous slogan to ‘The Buck Passes Here.’  😛

 

WOW #18

Just as the Gerry Seinfeld TV series was a show about nothing, so too, here is a word which is really also about nothing. The Word Of the Week is

ANOESIS

Definition for anoesis
a state of mind consisting of pure sensation or emotion without cognitive content.

And so, we have a word to describe the newly elected President of the United States, the all-powerful, Commander in Chief, Humpty-Dumpty Donald Trump….and most of the fools people who voted the fool into office.

It’s like Cassius Clay….uh, Mohammed Ali is back – “I am the Greatest!”  All feeling, all the time – no thinking.  No tact – no diplomacy – no restraint – no social graces – no executive ability – no plans, except that foggy, feel-good ‘Make America Great.’

It’s a shame that the Barnum and Bailey Circus has disbanded. As a Chief Executive….he’d make a great clown.  I just hope that, when I hear him say, “You’re fired.” he’s talking to Anthony Scaramucci, not the red ICBM launch button that he’s going to use, to teach Russia or North Korea a lesson.

Maybe I should use some anoesis, and just sit back and feel good, without thinking or worrying about what’s going wrong. Maybe not though.  There’s another ‘A’ word to describe people like that.  It’s ‘Asshole!’ 😯

***

And just to flesh out an otherwise anorexic little post – I’d like to mention that this one is another small milestone.  It is my 800th published blog.  My many thanks to all of you who have made it possible.   😀   😎   🌯

Roast Lame Duck

In a comment about my recent, less-than-glowing satire about the boy King Tut Justin Trudeau, Canada’s second-youngest Prime Minister, BrainRants, always the instigator, challenged me to skewer U.S. President Obama next.  That’s as hard as trying to nail Jell-O to a tree.  As Gertrude Stein said, “There is no There, There!”  I’m going to try to roast him, even though he looks like he’s already lightly roasted.

Here is a view of Obama’s reign Presidency, from one Canadian Curmudgeon’s point of view.  It has been a most cynical political presentation, not necessarily from Obama, who may actually believe the hype, but by his backers and controllers.  Oops, I almost said ‘owners.’

I was particularly unimpressed with both the early ‘Birther’ scandal, and then, following it, the ‘His second name is Hussein.  Is he really a Muslim?’, both of which seemed designed to keep him in the public eye,  as a victim of Big Business and those nasty, entitled, entrenched Republicans.

His handlers offered him up as a ‘Black President,’ with the motto, ‘Change.’ The more things change, the more they stay the same.  Obama has been about as exciting as tapioca pudding – and almost as white.

Even the idiot-child, George W. Bush, as POTUS – The Next Generation, America’s equivalent to Canada’s ski-bum, yoga instructor Trudeau, could be counted on for something memorable whenever Dick Cheney let go of the marionette strings.

I think Georgie Malaprop has been misunderestimated. He will always be remembered for comedy gems like, “The French don’t even have a word for entrepreneur.”, and his aircraft-carrier comedy show, titled “Mission Accomplished’ will go down in the annals of humor.

Obama will be remembered for…. Sorry, I dozed off.  He doesn’t have the presence and rememberability of even the least of the Kardashians.

Mr. ‘Sunny Ways’, Sonny Trudeau has been castigated for taking selfies at International Meetings, when he should have been practicing Statecraft. Obama just seems to slouch and stump around the White House, hoping that, when it’s all over, he can get a free copy of the official photographer’s Photo-Ops book, when he has to go back and get a real job, and earn his own money.

Obama has been like the black hole of politics. No matter how much heat or light was shined on him, none of it seemed to escape his event horizon and reflect back upon the public.  His P.R. handlers have had to rely a lot on the females of the family. ‘Here’s Michelle, planting and tending a Victory Garden.’ Probably growing poke salad and collard greens, and trying to remember how to make Soul Food.

Or one of his two terminally-cute daughters – usually Malia, the elder. Here she is, out on her first date, where social propriety and birth control are guaranteed by Secret Service Glocks.  Then there’s the story of how she’s going to take a bridge year between High School and college, to do some studying, because she failed Secondary Geography. “Daddy, where’s Kenya?”

Even with the good possibility that his replacement as President will be either Broomhilda the Witch, or Hagar the Horrible, it doesn’t seem to indicate that a lot of people will miss him when he’s gone. Most of them, intentionally or not, have missed him while he was in office.

 

The Games People Play

Our fellow-blogger, AFrankAngle is a teacher. His posts are well researched and clearly presented. His interests cover a wide territory, and include social and political happenings. He is located in Cincinnati, Ohio, and is keeping an eye on, and commenting about, the upcoming Presidential election.

The State of Ohio plays a pivotal role in such elections. It hosts the Primaries, and is a make-or-break State. I hope both you and Frank are appalled and outraged by the following little story.

The wife plays several games on a game site, as an anodyne to get her through some pain-filled days. Nothing exciting like Grand Theft Auto – just Canasta, Monopoly, Jungle Gym, Scrabble, and occasionally Crossword Cove, which I help her with. Usually she plays against the computer, because she says the other humans are too stupid and slow, and resentful when they get beat.

Apparently wasting spending time just playing games isn’t enough. The game site has recently added a chat-room-type sidebar, where you can make comments while you’re playing the games. It provides a list of conversation starters.

A couple of days ago, it listed;

What genre of Television do you prefer?
Who is your favorite Television character?
What Television episode disappointed you most with its outcome?

There were no takers for the TV genre question, I suspect because no-one knew what that big word, genre, meant.

Some woman got the TV character segment off to a bad start by listing Robert Uhrich, who was an actor, not a TV character, and who died 12 years ago. She was followed by a player who identified as a 67-year-old man from Ohio.

Perhaps led astray by the woman, he went even farther afield by declaring that his favorite TV character was Charles Heston, and the TV episode that disappointed him most was Ben-Her.

People, get out there and vote! These highly knowledgeable people vote, and if you don’t, Donald Trump will get to be president. 😳

And now back to our regularly scheduled rant about Canadian politics, so that you’ll know that there are idiots on both sides of the 49^th parallel. We have a candidate for Prime Minister who first told us that, “The budget will balance itself.” He’s now switched to Care Bear policies, where he claims the budget needs to be, “Balanced from the heart outward.” Donald Trump is startin’ to look good.

#495

Shit Happens

In
The
Beginning
was the plan.

And then came the assumptions,
and the assumptions were without form,
and the plan was completely without substance,
and the darkness was upon the face of the workers,
and they spoke among themselves, saying
“It is a crock of shit, and it stinketh.”

And the workers went unto the supervisors and sayeth,
“It is a pail of dung, and none may abide the odor thereof.”

And the supervisors went unto the managers and sayeth unto them,
“It is a container of excrement, and it is very strong,
such that none may abide it.”

And the managers went unto the directors and sayeth,
“It is a vessel of fertiliser, and none may abide its strength.”

And the directors spoke among themselves, saying one to another
“It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong.”

And the directors went unto the Vice Presidents,
and sayeth unto them,
“It promotes growth, and it is very powerful.”

And the Vice Presidents went unto the President,
and sayeth unto him,
“This new plan will actively promote growth and efficiency
of this company, and these areas in particular.”

And the President looked upon the Plan,
and saw that it was good.  And the plan became Policy.

Ladies and gentlemen,
This is how shit happens!

STRESS

Is that confusion which is created when one’s mind overrides the body’s basic desire to choke the living shit out of some Asshole who desperately needs it.

This concludes our words of wit and wisdom for today.  We now return you to your work-life, already in progress.

Real Romney

The following is reblogged from David Brooks, political and cultural commentator for the New York Times.  I wish that I could produce a piece as humorously accurate as this.  I can’t, but I felt even non-Americans would appreciate the chuckles and the insights.

*The purpose of the Republican National Convention is to introduce America to the real Mitt Romney.

Fortunately, I have spent hours researching this subject.  I can provide you with the definitive biography and a unique look into the Byronic soul of the Republican nominee:

Mitt Romney was born on March 12, 1947, in Ohio, Florida, Michigan, Virginia and several other swing states.  He emerged, hair first, believing in America, and especially its national parks.  He was given the name Mitt, after the Roman god of mutual funds, and launched into the world with the lofty expectation that he would someday become the Arrow shirt man.

Romney was a precocious and gifted child.  He uttered his first words (“I like to fire people.”) at age 14 months, made his first gaffe at 15 months and purchased his first nursery school at 24 months.  The school, highly leveraged, went under, but Romney made 24 million Jujubes on the deal.

Mitt grew up in a modest family.  His father had an auto body shop, called the American Motors Corp., and his mother owned a small piece of land, Brazil.  He had several boyhood friends, many of whom owned NASCAR franchises, and excelled at school, where his fourth-grade project, “Inspiring Actuaries I Have Known,” was widely admired.

The Romneys had a special family tradition.  The most cherished member got to spend road trips on the roof of the car.  Mitt spent many happy hours up there, applying face lotion to combat windburn.

The teenage years were more turbulent.  He was sent to a private school, where he was saddened to find there are people in America who summer where they winter.  He developed a lifelong concern for the second-homeless, and organized bake sales with proceeds going to the moderately rich.

Some people say he retreated into himself during those years.  He had a pet rock, which ran away from home because it was starved of affection.  He bought a mood ring, but it remained permanently transparent.  His ability to turn wine into water detracted from his popularity at parties.

There was, frankly, a period of wandering.  After hearing Lou Reed’s Walk On The Wild Side, Romney decided to leave Mormonism and become Amish.  He left the Amish faith because of its ban on hair products, and bounced around before settling back on college.  There, he majored in music, rendering Mozart’s entire oeuvre in Power-Point.

His love affair with Ann Davies, the most impressive part of his life, restored his equilibrium.  Always respectful, Mitt and Ann decided to elope with their parents.  They went on a trip to Israel, where they tried and failed to introduce the concept of reticence.  Romney also went on a mission to France.  He spent two years knocking on doors, failing to win a single convert.  This was a feat he would replicate during his 2008 presidential bid.

After his mission, he attended Harvard, studying law, classics and philosophy, though intellectually his first love was always tax avoidance.  After Harvard, he took his jawline to Bain Consulting, a firm with very smart people with excessive personal hygiene.  While at Bain, he helped rescue many outstanding companies, such as Pan Am, Eastern Airlines, Atari and DeLorean.

Romney was extremely detail-oriented in his business life.  He once cancelled a corporate retreat at which ABBA had been hired to play, saying he found the band’s music “too angry.”

Romney is also a passionately devoted family man.  After streamlining his wife’s pregnancies down to six months each, Mitt helped Ann raise five perfect sons – Bip, Chip, Rip, Skip and Dip – who married identically tanned wives.

Some have said the Romney’s lifestyle is overly privileged, pointing to the fact that he has an elevator for his cars in the garage of his San Diego home.  This is not entirely fair.  Romney owns many homes without garage elevators, and the cars have to take the stairs.

After a successful stint at Bain, Romney was lured away to run the Winter Olympics, the second most Caucasian institution on Earth, after the GOP.  He then decided to run for governor of Massachusetts.  His campaign slogan, “Vote Romney: More Impressive Than You’ll Ever Be,” was not a hit, but Romney won the race anyway on an environmental platform, promising to make the state safe for steeplechase.

After his governorship, Romney suffered through a mid-life crisis, during which he became a social conservative.  This prepared his way for his presidential run.  He barely won the 2012 republican primaries after a gruelling nine-month campaign, running unopposed.

At the convention, where his Secret Service nickname is Mannequin, Romney will talk about his real-life record: successful business leader, superb family man, effective governor, devoted community leader and prudent decision-maker.  If elected, he promises to bring all Americans together, and make them feel inferior.*