Second Season Civil War Gold Finale! Fake Gold!

DATELINE:  Hook, Line & Sunk

hook, line, & sunk One Born Every Minute?

If Alex Lagina had any effect on a first-season disaster for Curse of Civil War Gold, he turned it into something far more compelling. As with conspiracy theories and history, you can become more outrageous along the way.

However, he bailed out when his father Marty Lagina blew up over the lack of careful preparation. After firing the diver who found gold, and failed to properly mark its location, Lagina personally escorted John Chatterton to the show.

The dive expert indicated something was amiss. And, a second dive at the last moment revealed that a conspiracy may exist within a conspiracy. The lack of professionalism and giddy accusations may have backfired on Dykstra and his theory.

Yup, the Masons may have salted the mine with gold bricks.

It seems unbelievable that Marty Lagina will sink more of his cash into producing another season, but ratings may be the real gold.

We didn’t see a great deal of Jesse James, as promised, but the inclusion of John Wilkes Booth was inspired stuff from the Lagina investors. They have turned the dross into gold, no matter what Kevin Dykstra ever finds.

The transformation of a small-time rich banker named Charles Hackley into a big-wig with connections to Edwin Stanton also has proven to be magical when it comes to plots to kill Abe Lincoln who might have objected to the Masons taking the Confederate treasury.

It seems these maligned people and groups may have bitten back at Kevin Dykstra. Tune in next year to find out who’s behind the fraud.

Born Again Ratzi!

DATELINE: Fake Birther!

birther

Never Trust a Birther Certificate!

Owing to the vagaries of the universe, what goes around usually ends up biting you on the big fat t-Rump.

So it is for President Trump who has now admitted that his father’s birth certificate is a big fat fake.

Well, that’s the fake news. The real news is that this birther controversy hints that Fred Trump was not an American after all.

He was born in the heartland of Der Fatherland. Yes, sir, Fred, he was a dyed-in-the-wool Teutonic member of the Austrian crypto-Nazi brigade.

It appears that Fred Trump and Adolph Hitler share some heritage. You could not put a thin piece of paper, like a birth certificate, between them. Hitler and Trump, Sr., were Austrian members of a fascist youth movement.

Three times lately, Mr. Trump, the lesser, has stated that he is proud of his crypto-Nazi Austrian father who was not born in the Bronx after all.

It seems the birth certificate showed by Fred all those years was manufactured by the same people who gave you Barack Obama’s birth certificate.

Only a few years separated Die Fuhrer and Fred. As far as we can tell, the Austrian foothills were the place that Fred Trump learned all he taught his son about how to goose-step.

We expect that Donald Trump will soon be giving his father’s favorite Fatherland salute.

Now we know that the dog whistle you don’t hear is a call to all neo-Nazi and crypto-Nazis. Trump is proud of his white supremacist background.

Who would have guessed?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.

Danny Amendola on MVP Julian Edelman

 DATELINE: Demon & Pythiass

Danny & Julie Danny with Jules.

One of the guests to watch the Patriots win yet again another Super Bowl, number VI out of LIII, was a man who chose to leave the team to sign a contract with rival Miami before this season.

Aspiring model and wide receiver for the Dolphins, Danny Amendola, was there as a close friend to videographer and now Super MVP Julian Edelman and supporter of his former teammate.When asked one of the more personally interesting questions as he arrived in Atlanta, he said he did not like Edelman’s beard. “It’s smelly,” he told reporters on the fly.

If any man has been up close to the challenge of finding food particles in Julian’s fur-based face, it is the always adorable Danny.

No man is closer to Edelman and as familiar with his workout partner’s habits, Amendola starred in many of Edelman’s videos and antics. Amendola surely knows the intricacies of Julie’s bushy follicles.

He, like the rest of us, may be perplexed at the ugliness of his facial hair—and how he now waxes and wanes his entire body below the neck.

If Edleman likes to take fur off his buff bod, you may wonder why he leaves the au naturel look on his chinny-chin-chin. He surely has bone structure as sharp as Tom Brady, even without Botox, which leads us to note that our most blockbuster blog is the one in which we discussed the “work” Brady has done to maintain his youthful looks.

It’s important when you plan to play a game in the public eye until decrepitude and the Grim Reaper darken your door to stay youthful.

As for Danny, who had his own oddball hopes of becoming a supermodel, he can only second-guess whether he regrets his decision to leave the big stage of the Julie and Tom show, Super Bowl perennials, to play with the fishes in Miami.

 

God, Man, & Drunks @ Yale

 DATELINE: Patriotic Republicans in Youth

 march of time news

The cold-heart of the GOP and National Review founder was author of a conservative book that became a bible of sorts. William F. Buckley, Jr., went to Yale, just like Brett Kavanagh, though a generation earlier.

It would appear that Yale prepared young Republicans by having them indulge in binge drinking to the point of belligerence. It may be why so many of these young political hacks went into politics, via public service.

Law seemed a good choice after a privileged life of undergraduate misfeasance. Having taught at a college of privileged young and rich for many years, we saw first-hand the problems they swept under the rug.

Now they are a middle-aged generation of deadbeats who have either run their family business into the ground or become high -ranking members of our American government.

They thought nothing of using women as sex toys, passed around their social circles. We could tell hair-raising stories of their violence and anti-intellectualism at Yale or other standby private colleges for the privileged few.

Let’s all stand for the National Anthem, deadbeats. Why, isn’t that friend in a bar fight with Kavanagh the man who ran for governor of Oregon in 2010 as a Republican? He doesn’t remember much from his drunken undergraduate days either. Chris Dudley is a patriot, even with a drunken violent past he shared with Kavanagh.

Nor does he want to talk to the FBI. If they don’t remember their blotto nights out, we doubt they learned much in the classroom except how to cheat their way through. You might say Kavanagh and Dudley minored in AA and Gamblers Anonymous, while charter members of the college Republicans.

Pardon us for our cynicism. We watched this generation of low-life (as their President might say) up close and know of what we observed.

Sen. Cracker Graham Support for K-K-Kavanagh?

DATELINE: Judge Not, Lest Ye Be Blackmailed!

 Judge Roy Moore Any Judge will do it for Trump!

Some observers are wondering why President Bone Spurs Trump’s most ardent critic of the past two years suddenly had a change of heart.

Sen. Lindsay Graham suddenly became the attack dog for the Administration at the hearings for Judge K-K-Kavanagh. His spirited hissy fit at the hearing has all the makings of a man’s manufactured indignation.

If the lady doth protest too much, then what condition has prompted cracker Graham to represent his Carolina constituents with a banjo on his knee?

He even threatened to politicize his future dealings with the judiciary, overlooking the fact that the women justices he supported were not accused of harassing other women.

He seemed unfazed that the man who picks his clerks for their leggy credentials boasted that he will surround himself with a harem of law clerks as a Supreme Court justice. Old B-B-Brett seems unfazed at the pain he is inflicting on his family to satisfy his raw ambitions. On the day Bill Cosby goes to jail in handcuffs for using date rape drugs, Brett is on his way to the Supreme Court for a similar allegation.

Can it be that the latest Trump troll is acting out of the fear of something evil coming his way? For years the rumors have persisted that Graham is a member of Dorothy’s Friends, that amiable group of rainbow singing Munchkins.

Now we begin to wonder if blackmail is at the heart of Trump support. We have seen thugs purported to have made unkind suggestions to women like Stormy Daniels by Trumpist monkeys. Can it be that the voters in Carolina may be treated to a lowdown on the downlow of Lindsay Graham? Would Trumpites sink so low? You better believe it.

So, the man with no proclivities to support date rape of women may have proclivities that he would prefer you not cast a vote upon in future elections. It’s not likely that the LGBTQ community of South Carolina wants to think of what sits on Graham’s knee.

Or if he is on his knees to do something other than pray and to do the bidding of President Bonehead Bone Spurs?

 

Gronk Wuz Robbed!

DATELINE: Baddies Natasha & Boris Suspected

 Gronk in Strait Jacket

While away in Frostbite Falls for the Super Bowl, Rob Gronkowski’s palatial home in Foxboro was the object of robbery. That makes Gronk a two-time loser in one week.

The police report that Gronk’s five-bedroom million-dollar house was left unattended, and he discovered the thieves were there on Monday afternoon.

Police won’t say what was taken. In all likelihood, the idiots who tried to rob Rob likely couldn’t recognize the Matisse paintings on his wall—and left them.

Some are shocked to learn that Gronk has anything worth stealing. Many are equally surprised that he does not live in cold-water flat, three-story walk-up.

Apart from heavy exercise equipment, there is not much to be carted away from his estate. His coin collection of Lincoln pennies could be a target.

We suspect the robbers were looking for one of Tom Brady’s jerseys, which have been valued by Texas Rangers as worth hundreds of thousands.

Knowing Gronk’s fan base, we suspect they were after one of his moldy jockstraps, as online bidding for the item may grow as fermented as the scent.

Since Gronk is threatening to retire this off-season, he will not be living in Foxboro much longer, moving to Beverly Hills where the old Clampitt estate will suit him and his extended family of brothers.

In the meantime, Gronk is hurting, having been violated in the sanctity of his bedroom. We recommend that Gronk spend the money on a cheap video security system while he waits for his Hollywood contract to be signed.

Will the Real Bill Belichick Please Stand UP?

DATELINE:  It’s Badenov, Oddjob!

 Boris Badenov Belichick Oddjob

First, it was Boris Badenov. Then, it was Oddjob. Now it’s even worse: Bill Belichick has gone blackhat.

Rats are now departing the sinking ship of S.S. Philly Eagles.

Not one mouse could deal with the image of the man who made fame in cut-off sweat shirts appearing like the pall-bearer for the underdogs of football.

The Eagle has not landed. It’s been grounded.

When Bill Belichick, of hoodie fame, donned a Fedora and black suit when he deplaned the Kraft One Jet, augurs went bonkers.

Magnetic north has shifted. Oddsmakers are scurrying for cover.

Not since the Corleone family flew into Vegas has there been such a fashion statement.

You know the villain always wears the black hat, but the film noir world just found its new Robert Mitchum—and he is the man holding all the cards and likely carrying a concealed weapon under his coat.

Frostbite Falls just went into heart seizure. The Super Bowl has just become the Super Bowler. Oddjob worked for Goldfinger and wore a Fedora with a steel-lined brim.

People are prepared to duck if Belichick throws his hat into the Super Bowl ring.

Frostbite Falls, Minnesota, has not seen a Fedora like this since Bullwinkle battled Boris Badenuv on the Rocky Show.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Trump Tax Cuts: The New Math & the Unkindest Cut

DATELINE: Nose Growth on Trump

smarmy ryan Pinocchio Trump’s Jiminy Cricket

Republicans lawmakers like Paul Ryan have supercilious grins on their faces. It’s almost like the glee when they snickered at trying to supplant the Obamacare program.

The new math by Pinocchio Trump and his tax minions is rape in the traditional family government subsidy. Only the rich get richer in Trumpworld.

We also enjoyed hearing some nitwit ABC reporter state that $1162 tax cut for the average family is nearly $1200. This reporter obviously never rounded off dollars on her tax return.

We also listened with interest as the Republicans numbskulls reveled in the idea that $1200 was so much of a tax relief that it could be used to enhance your savings account, take a vacation, or pay off your mortgage. What kind of imbeciles do they take the voters to be?

Don’t answer that. It’s rhetorical.

By the time the taxpayers realize what Trump is up to, they will be paying far more in more esoteric ways. Who needs deductions for state and local income tax?  Well, when the state and local areas raise your taxes, you will wonder where the money went.

As for those undocumented tax payers, you will lose deductions for your American citizen children. Not only that, but ICE will have your address and pick you up for deportation. No matter that you do some crap job for minimum wage that no self-respecting American would ever work.

As for Trump, let’s face it: he is not what he advertised himself to be.  By the time this tax reform is working us into debt, Mr. Trump will either be impeached, have resigned, or living in the penthouse of the new Moscow Trump Tower.

Will someone wipe that smile off the smarmy face of Paul Ryan?

This Year’s Smell-o-Rama Star!

DATELINE: Smell-a-Fop Beckham

 

Okay, we are finally being forced to deal with that odd smell called Odell.

The NFL took notice of the Giant who shrinks before your eyes into a midget. Oddsmell Beckham is the name.

But, that would be insulting to Little People. Beckham is a Giant bully with a titanic ego and a big set of footballs for brains. He wears tight white pants for the same reason that motivated Aaron Hernandez.

It would appear that the flashy Beckham with his one handed catches will soon be a flash in the pan. We would like to see him fricaseed after his helmet crash into an opposing player.

As Cam Newton astutely commented, we have a field full of alpha males on a testosterone bender. It’s the NFL where the last vestige of manhood is not a mask of facial stubble.

Yes, these giants are behemoths among men. Yet, good sportsmanship is the sales pitch on the marquee. That too is laughable when the same week the Commissioner seeks to hang his biggest Pro Bowl vote-getter as a cheater detrimental to the game.

Tom Brady allegedly deflated a ball. Beckham tried to kill another man on live TV.  Brady should receive a four game suspension, and Beckham should receive a one-game suspension. Go figure, Roger.

We have taken a giant step backward in evolution if Roger Goodell has his way.

As for the Goldilocks of the NFL, Beckham is looking for a game just right—not too hot and not too cold. He thinks his medium is the message, and his pants are hitched just so.

According to one reputed victim, Josh Norman of the Panthers, Beckham is puerile, infantile, and full of guile. Big babies are the norm for football Giants, as we have seen from gunshots to the groin.

Yet, this story grows curiouser and curiouser; Beckham allegedly reacted to gay slurs about his character: was he a diva about this, though the Panthers deny any fop slurs were used?  or did the words cut too close to the pantywaist bone?

This week the NFL took a giant step backward. Next year’s humor already has a jump on us.