Trump’s Handiwork in Palm Beach

DATELINE: Massage is the Medium

Yang & Trump Party Another Happy Ending!

A funny thing happened on the way to the Trump Super Bowl party. Another funny thing happened at the Palm Beach massage parlor. We don’t mean funny in a humorous sense. It is distinctly odd.

Now it seems that Robert Kraft, owner of the New England Patriots, could not attend the Trump Super Bowl party because he actually was at the game, as part of putting the sixth championship below his belt.

Cindy Yang attended Trump’s shindig where she showed him a good time. Yank, oops, Yang founded the massage parlor game in Palm Beach, a kidney stone’s throw from Mar-a-Lago.

Joining Mr. Trump at his party was the one-time creator of the self-same parlor where Mr. Kraft was handed his arrested development warrant. You guessed it! Cindy Yank has the pull for an invitation.

You have got to hand it to Trump and Kraft. They know how to grab headlines. When you have billions, you can do fairly much whatever you want. The problem is that these handsome seniors have enemies. Yes, there are patrons of the law who blanch at women doing sex work for money.

We eagerly await the visit of Kraft to the White House where he will hand-off a MAGA jersey to President like it’s a Handi-wipe who will hand-out fast-food with and without pickles.

Trump likely feels this massage perk is owed to the super-rich who are now political kingpins, making immigration policy that allows Chinese women to be held prisoner, not in a fortune cookie factory where they might send out a message, but in a massage parlor where the medium is the massage.

The party-goer who owned the massage parlor is a big donor to Trump. She gives freely and often. The little lady deserves a big hand, but we aren’t sure if Trump or Kraft can afford to pick up the tab.

Septuagenarians are worse off than sexagenarians.

If you think there is something funny going on here in Palm Beach, we think the police agree and have a hands-on policy when it comes to a handshake and a smile.

If you think Congressional committees will put their paws on this one, you will have another Jussie Smollett moment on your hands.

Sex and politics are never strange bedfellows. Just let the Stormy days pass—you will have a big hand for the little lady.

Funny like a toothache.

 

 

Demise of TV Satire?

DATELINE:  Trump’s Attack on Humor

trumpet the New Archie Bunker?

President Trump wants to shut down Saturday Night Live because it is an “Enemy of the People.”

In his view, no views should be expressed on TV unless they are kind, balanced, and fair to him.

Of course, television has a long history of unpopular, brutal satire. The shows include That Was the Week That Was. TWTWTW, as it was known, or TW3 in some circles, was half-an hour of unremitting political jokes that skewed Republican Barry Goldwater during 1964. It was on in prime-time and was pre-empted every week, almost, by paid TV commercials from the GOP. They eventually saw it canceled.

The other shocker was The Smothers Brothers Hour, on Sunday nights that was sixty minutes of unremitting anti-Nixon, anti-Watergate cronies in the Roger Stone archetype.

It was so virulently anti-Nixon and his dirty-tricks-team that Nixon put it on the Enemies List and had his influential friends at the network cancel the show.

All in the Family started out as a brutal satire of crypto-Nazi bigotry in the Queens suburbs of New York. It was enormously popular during the 1970s, but its satiric bite was lessened sharply when Archie Bunker, the bigot, became a lovable American hero. Embraced as a delightful example of American parochialism, he flourished, a fan favorite of conservative America.

During the same years came SNL.  It was out of prime time, even reveling in the idea with the Not Ready for Prime Time players, a group of future movie stars who did satiric barbs.

SNL still lives, over forty years later, and has become nastier in its attacks on Trump, which incenses the President. He wants it investigated and stopped.

If there had been a radio show in Germany in the 1930s, Hitler would have had it raided and had its comedians sent to a concentration camp. Indeed, Jack Benny made a comedy movie about such an idea in his greatest film called To Be or Not To Be. ICE may yet raid SNL.

So Trump is in fine company as he awaits impeachment and prison for his dubious unconstitutional, uneducated, and anti-satire demands to close down freedom of speech.

Swan Dive on Trump

DATELINE: Wile E. Coyote with Orange Hair?

Pelosi Bronx cheer.jpeg Pelosi’s Bronx Cheer?

When Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi applauded President Trump on finishing his epic State of the Union with 82 minutes of cram-packed disinformation, she added something to the lexicon of American culture.

We used to have the Bronx Cheer, a rather crude and effective means of making its recipient know how low he has fallen.

You cannot smell a Bronx Cheer, only hear it. You cannot smell a Pelosi clapback, but its visual image will resonate on Twitter and social media forever.

Now, when you want to skewer a blowhard, you point the middle fingers in your pointed hands and make little slaps like a jaw opening and closing on a fool on the hill’s neck.

Among hundreds of political observers—and Trump himself—and countless viewers and re-watching viewers, Mrs. Pelosi stuck it to Trump who had to stand there and take it. His mendacious speechifying was over. Now he had to look like the man with egg on his face or yellow feathers in his mouth. However, the canary just ate him.

Speaker Pelosi looked like Tweety Pie, sitting in the gilded cage, and about to tell us that, indeed, she saw “a Putty Tat.” Yes, indeed, like Sylvester, Mr. Trump just was given his quota of suffering succotash.

If she had been the Road Runner, she would have stuck out her tongue and beeped at him before dashing off and leaving the man and his moment conjoined forever as the biggest damned fool in history.

A picture is worth a thousand words, and the priceless expression of the Speaker is visible, and only the back of a head of fake hair comes from the Trump vantage.

If you believe in emblematic moments, you know that Marshall McLuhan is laughing somewhere in the universe.

Monkeys & Weasels in the NFL

DATELINE: Crying Over Spoiled Milk

brady mirror

Resting players in anticipation of playing big games in the future is a bit like counting your chickens before they’re hatched. The Pittsburgh Steelers plan to rest their most important players, which sounds like a bunch of chickens uncounted.

The Patriots plan to play their most important players, which sounds like a roundabout way of driving off a short pier.

Granted, the Steelers are playing the worst team in the NFL, which could have a bearing on driving off the infamous bridge. The Cleveland Browns are looking for a perfect season, one without any victories. But the Steelers plan is to make Cleveland work for it.

We admire any team that expects to achieve victory in the face of overwhelming defeat or playing with two left feet.

For the faded Browns and grounded Jets, the chance to win will be a hollow moral victory in a final regular season game. They would confound their opponents who are NFL nemeses, over and out.

The concept has been around for many years, called being Spoilers.

A loss by the Patriots might even cruel Fate’s fickle finger when two replays overturned two recent games into Patriot victories.

Injuries, possible to Gronk and Brady in the last game, would be even more extreme examples of fickle fate screwing the Patriots out of the Super Bowl. Playing their franchise stars may be risky business, but may also be the only business worth doing.

The Steelers don’t take that chance. The Patriots must take that chance.

All analysis may be wasted if the games are fixed, and fate shall play no hand in victory, no matter what you hope.

We will be watching overturned replays like a man on the flying trapeze, expecting the greatest of ease not to be a daring stunt.  Or we may be watching the monkey chasing the proverbial weasel. Indeed, that may be the best metaphor to describe the Steelers chasing the Patriots.

The Big Sneeze is upon us.

 

 

 

35% of Americans: What a Fox News Poll Never Told Us!

 DATELINE:  When 35% is a Majority 

According to Foxy News, 35% of viewers know their bastion of fair and balanced news is fake most of the time.

“Oh, let’s call a spade a spade,” is the motto of 35% of Foxy Americans when it comes down to racial epithets.

35% of Americans seem to think nuclear obliteration is a viable option.

35% of Americans agree that they learned nothing in school and don’t believe their teachers knew much anyhow.

35% of Americans think experts are overrated.

35% of Americans believe anything they read on the Internet.

35% of Americans think hurricanes are God’s punishment for opposing Donald Trump.

35% of Americans want to have another Civil War with East and West Coast against the Middle to have better balance.

35% of Americans think the US Constitution sank during the War of 1812—and it just doesn’t hold up in the 21st century court system.

35% of Americans think satire is evil.

35% of Americans believe Donald Trump is as sane as they are.

35% of Americans, more or less, believe rational behavior is not normal.

Around 35% of Americans believe “white supremacist” is a kind of Cool Whip topping.

35% of Americans think the word “immigration” means birds fly south for the winter because of global warming.

35% of Americans believe “lethal injection” is covered under pre-existing conditions in Obamacare.

35% of Americans think black flies matter during the summer when you go camping.

35% of Americans believe sexual harassment is as American as apple pie and baseball.

35% of Americans firmly believe “morons” should have unlimited access to the Oval Office.

35% of Americans believe the President has the right to shoot people in the street, regardless of national origin or race, but mostly because of national origin and race.

35% of Americans believe you can kneel during the National Anthem while in church.

35% of your fellow citizens believe shutting off TV news is the only way to deal with fake news.

35% of Americans think missppelling and ‘grammer misstakes are covered, under freedom of speech:

35% of Americans think polls are polarizing and should be banned from media reports.

The preceding blog is often called satire, but is usually misunderstood by readers who believe 35% of smartphones know too much.

Turf Time Beats Star Gate for Patriots

 DATELINE:  Belichick Mows Fake Grass

 


Lean and hungry Cassius speaks some rather profound lines in Julius Caesar: “The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but ourselves.”

In a normal universe that might be true, but we are talking the world of Gillette Stadium in Foxboro where the Caesar of Sports, Bill Belichick, would beg to differ. Walt Whitman might like blades of grass, but we never guessed Belichick would agree with him.

As for fake Brady news, he would rather cut his teeth on broken mirror glass than play on fake turf.

After a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Chiefs, Tom Brady and company are fully embarrassed. But, don’t blame your stars, and they won’t blame themselves.

The fault, dear Brutus, and dear Belichick, is in the turf.

Yep, you guessed it:  The Patriots have ordered the old turf be torn up and replaced immediately. The old turf was installed in May at great expense. Some “players” called it too soft. Heavens, not soft! The Patriots are not looking for a Beauty Rest mattress.

Tom Brady may hawk the mattress in one of his hilarious commercials, but the Pats like it hard.

There is likely only two people who could exercise the power over the Kraft family to insist the turf ‘n surf dinner be taken off the clubhouse menu. They are the same tandem that can veto new artificial grass.

That is Coach Belichick the Great, and his acolyte Tom Brady the Ageless.

Yes, indeed, we may have voted to legalize grass in Massachusetts, but don’t let that have an impact on the Patriots. Off with the turf.

A new sod will replace the new old sod. Some old sod will do the work in time for the next home game. If they lose again, you may have to look skyward: the only blame left is in the stars.

No, not those stars.

Brady’s Small Circle of Friends

 DATELINE:  Ah, There’s the Rub

Featured image

Tom Brady’s judgment of character came into question this week in Boston Magazine.

As expected after Deflategate, everything and everyone in Tom Brady’s life now comes under scrutiny.

And under a few rocks in Brady’s backyard you are likely to find something lurking. If it looks like a Gila monster, it could be one.

So it is not a surprise that Tom’s best friend and mentor, Alex Guerrero, also a business partner, has been under investigation by the Federal Trade Commission.

It appears Guerrero has pushed one too many pills down Tom’s throat. A self-styled “doctor” and medical expert on health and fitness, he has parlayed his insider knowledge into a career and business. You might even call him a hanger-on. Unfortunately, some government watchdogs believe he is about as genuine as the great Wizard of Oz.

Apparently Guerrero started out as Tom’s masseur—and quickly found himself elevated to a massage therapist and fitness expert. Being a pal to a Super Bowl winner can do that overnight.

We can only wonder if he recommended the plastic surgeon Tom consulted over the summer. As a judge of character, Tom changed his face from shopworn at 40 to a Botox mask of indeterminate age.

What is undeniable is that Tom has taken to a healthy regimen like Jack LaLanne (not on steroids). There are many so-called physical gurus out there—and most are infomercial kingpins. Few, however, have claimed to have found a cure for cancer, like this mentor.

Guerrero is Tom’s figurative godfather. Well, technically, he has been called the official and literal godfather to one of Tom’s sons. We aren’t sure who made the offer that could not be refused. Tom Brady always reserves the right of first refusal.