Let’s not kid ourselves. Among the many mistakes in Arthur Miller’s talented life (he divorced Marilyn Monroe after just 5 yrs) was his choice of title for The SINGLE GREATEST Story About American History’s Salem Witch Trials.
The Crucible. The Crucible? What’s this, Chemistry class? Are we grinding elements here to torch them with a Bunsen Burner? No wonder High School English was such a drag! We were stuck reading “The Crucible” when we could have been reading:
The Single Greatest WITCH HUNT in American Political History
How our young minds would have tuned to the salacious proceedings! We may not have had Smart phones and Twitter feeds back then, but we sure had our share of demagogues in the corridors of power. How much more quickly would Joe McCarthy have been taken down if only Arthur Miller hadn’t been such a pansy about his title!
I’ll leave you with a bit of wisdom overheard in my high school’s 3-corridor lav, a place where renegades and truants filled their lungs with smoke during the long years of forced reading. They seemed to have retained something of those lectures about Salem, about Washington, and about the natural state of man. None other than high school bully D. Whalon said, staring into the abyss of the toilet in the stall next to mine:
“If the turd floats, it isn’t a witch.”
Washington’s mighty Potomac, already a cesspool of toxic runoff and waste, might just be the place to test this theory in our modern day WITCH HUNT. And I wonder, if he were to be dunked unto its waters, would the hunted Don John himself sink? Or would the turd float?
It’s little wonder the hunt for a new FBI Director seems to have ground to a halt.
The country’s next top cop will be subservient to a criminal, whose charge sheet includes housing discrimination in NYC, fraud related to an eponymous university, bribery of a federal judge, tax and immigration violations, and sexual predation.
This Whitman’s Sampler of criminal acts doesn’t even get into current allegations of obstructing an investigation into collusion with a foreign entity to win the presidency. After all, they’re only allegations.
Continue reading Kush for FBI
The Top Ten Dumb Things Internet lists have made me do (one is a lie):
10. “Like” things that merely interest me
9. Assess the duplicity of others
8. Avoid work, especially writing
7. Scroll while driving
6. Scroll while biking
5. Groan aloud in public
4. Puzzle over others’ music interests
3. Read lists
2. Make lists
And… The number one dumb thing Internet lists have made me do is:
Think in tens
What I plan to do for Earth day is drive a gas guzzler up the road tossing hamburger wrappers out the window and blasting Metallica’s “Blackened” ’til Johnny Law hunts me down in his fuel sucking hot rod and hands me a ticket for speeding, littering, and noise pollution.
Earth Day? What a scam! We should treat Earth Day like the Mardi Gras of pollution. Don’t celebrate Earth Day by riding your bike to work in a green shirt and re-using your dental floss. That’s shallow and disgusting.
Walk or bike to work the other 364 days a year; also properly dispose of your batteries and engine oil; eat eco-friendly vegetables; turn off the lights and turn down the A.C.; reduce, re-use, recycle! That’s the 364-day plan!
Earth Day is a day for flushing the toilet twice instead of not at all. Take long, hot showers and eat meals that require an abundance of grassland and disgraceful amounts of irrigation to produce. Water your lawn and wash your car! Add noise pollution to this mix of insanity and blast your favorite big hair aerosol band from 1988! Rock on! Live free or die. It’s Earth Day!
Then wake up and treat the next 364 days like Lent, pious and observant. We have only one Mother Earth.
* And don’t get me started on all the other International Days of This and That!
Flying out early tomorrow for Papa’s haunt, Key West.
A question he never considered on his many travels. My flight spans breakfast and lunch (DC-Buffalo-Ft. Lauderdale… don’t ask, it was cheapest). The airlines have decided they can hide value by disappearing a reasonable meal from the fare.
If it were me alone I’d tighten the belt and just go, swallow my spit to keep hydrated and reward myself with lime-soaked mojitos on arrival. But I can’t tell the six-year-old to do that. So I made him up a whole grain, cheese-mustard-apple sandwich.
Now—how to wrap it?
Will the goons at TSA object to tinfoil? Will they consider my son a threat with his foil wrapper? Will they eat his lunch?
I decided not to risk it. There I am with my tired end-of-week hands quartering sandwiches and wrestling with ClingWrap, which clings to everything it shouldn’t and fails where it’s needed most. I hope it’s worth it. I hope the sandwich holds up.
I hope TSA doesn’t torture us tomorrow. Will a tinfoil hat help?
At CVS today I bought one item. One. Doesn’t matter what. When the purchase was finalized, the cashier handed me the receipt.
Guess how long that sucker was.
Some of this is necessary, perhaps. Now I know I was served by a person named Reina. Hi Reina. Phone number, store address, price paid plus taxes (the total came to $9.32).
If I were a modern day Jack Kerouac I suppose I’d cook my Sudaphedrine into something more exciting, wind the fresh 33 inches of scroll into my portable Underwood Royal Standard and bang out the next great road-novel-as-jazz-symphony, then die an early death wrinkled, fat, and forgotten ’til years hence.
I’m not Jack. Instead I scrutinized this fascinating 3-foot evidence of my purchase. Turns out its a list of admonitions and rules:
Pick up your Easter Essentials!
Returns with receipt before 6/5/17.
Try this gentle mist for powerful allergy relief today.
$12 off your next $60 purchase (pseudo ephedrine and milk excluded).
$1 of $7 coffee & tea (excludes beverages)????!
Extra Care card required.
$1.50 off Greeting Cards—make someone’s day!
At Giant next door I bought 3 items and the receipt was only 22 inches long.
Pass the typewriter. I’ve got work to do. The world’s gone mad and there’s only one way to escape.
Recent changes to Wordpress eliminated the center justify button. This is more inconvenience than improvement, but it did lead to one decent discovery.
Bloggers can still keep the left and right margins clean with a little change to the HTML code. It’s easy:
1. Select the text you want to justify.
2. Hit the left justify button.
3. Switch to Text view.
4. Change all text-align: left code to read text-align: justify.
5. Voila! Clean edges again.
Another neat problem this trick handles is the creation of fake news. Here’s how.
Take any news item you want—wiretapping allegations, say. Select a quote or story on that topic. Paste it into your WordPress template. Then follow steps 1-4 above replacing justify with falsify.
Andrew Napolitano on Fox News seems to have followed this practice to come up with allegations that the Obama administration asked British intelligence to wiretap Mr. Trump during the 2016 presidential campaign.
The technique is also useful for Breitbart writers, who can now copy and paste whole articles from the liberal media and alter facts to their satisfaction simply by hitting Control-V in HTML.
Warning: the reading police, disguised as the media, have infiltrated the State Department.
Based on a stroll through the Harry Truman building cafeteria, one journalist for The Atlantic pretends to understand our present condition: “As the staffer and I walked among the tables and chairs, people with badges chatted over coffee; one was reading his Kindle.”
Forgive me for not pausing to gasp at the news.
Federal workers everywhere hang badges, like nooses, around their necks. Continue reading D. W. Hitman
My son’s offering his services as my campaign manager. More than the trappings of power, I think the third grader’s hooked on creating slogans.
‘Want the Best?
Vote the Beast.’
Beast is a nickname I picked up in Jr. High. It was my sister’s fault. A clever P.E. teacher pegged her first initial against her last name, and the Beast was born. When I started climbing rope two years later, the name was passed down to me and I became the Beast myself. Continue reading The Run
If the leadership really wants to improve our healthcare insurance, they should start with a phone call to Blue Cross Blue Shield. In 12 seconds or less they’ll learn that legislating insurance can only make America great again if it kills the robots taking our calls.
I’m sorry, I did not understand your response.
‘That’s because you’re a robot.’
I’m sorry, I did not understand your response.
Even the privileged elite in congress should recognize the futility of this conversation. Continue reading Calling Mr. Robot