My Felon Americans

Having a grim time - wish we weren't here!

And now it's on. Donald Trump, the only real threat to the Deep State, is facing 136 years in prison after having been convicted on all counts for allegedly committing a handful of misdemeanors that had already expired under the statute of limitations. The only testimony linking Trump to the misdemeanors came from a known and repeat perjurer-under-oath who, by the way, embezzled $30,000 from Trump while an employee.

But the system worked. Because "the system" is now about power rather than law. And the Left is determined to stop Donald Trump by any means. And when I say "any" I specifically mean killing him if necessary. How else would you explain Democrat efforts to pull his Secret Service protection detail? Is the thought that he'd be perfectly safe in a nice, cozy jail cell like Jeffrey Epstein was?

Personally, I'd love to see Trump open every speech from now until inauguration day with the words "My felon Americans..." Because all conservatives - hell, all those who are even rational - are now considered thought-criminals to be dealt with outside the restraints of traditional laws and Constitutional rights. And by cheekily starting each speech with "My felon Americans" Trump simultaneously mocks the Left, unites the Right, and reminds us that we're all at risk now. Not just a risk of losing a job or being targeted with an IRS audit, but an actual risk of being disappeared in the night and whisked away to a political prison. Just ask the sightseeing grandmothers who toddled through the Capitol Building on January 6th.

This is not hyperbole. This is now.

Obviously, Trump must win for any of us to even have a chance or for our nation to have a future. And his winning doesn't guarantee anything (ask the President who made the mistake of taking a convertible ride through Dealy Plaza after pissing off the CIA) but it is the essential next step on which all else depends.

My actual feelings about Donald Trump haven't changed much over the years. I still think he's a goofball who nonetheless loves America and does our country great good when allowed to do so. Or to paraphrase actor Dennis Quaid, he may be an asshole but he's our asshole.

The sickening travesty of a trial in New York will forever be the norm if Trump loses in November. We can't let that happen.

THEY CALL ME MISTER SUNSHINE

Between politics, health challenges, and missing my late wife, Kathy, I'm not always the cheeriest sumbitch day to day, but I still make an effort to amuse myself and others. Hence, the cartoon above which illustrates the least-favorite advice I'm sometimes given.

Still, they say that when Life gives you lemons, you should make lemonade.  Currently, Life is giving us George Orwell, so in an attempt to make Orwellian lemonade I've taken a slyly naughty poem of Orwell's and turned it into a Broadway-worthy romantic ballad. The first half of the song is George's (including the punchline!) and the second half is mine. This could be the beginning of a beautiful, and pretty weird, friendship.

Closed captions are available for those who want to read the lyrics and titter in public places. Enjoy!

No Crowd Aloud

Joe Biden has finally agreed to debate Donald Trump after establishing a few rules for the confrontation. Most importantly, there can be no audience at all - just the candidates, the moderator, and the small tech crew that will be operating the Biden animatronic. The lack of audience noise will also make it easier to edit sections of the debate later, patching together words that may make Joe look cognizant.

Another requirement is that the candidates' microphones will be cut off without warning at the end of their allotted speaking period. This is allegedly to keep Trump from interrupting Biden with zesty bon mots like "you're full of shit." But I suspect the actual reason is that it will establish exactly how much time Joe needs to ramble before his microphone is cut off and he (and his handlers) can breathe a sigh of relief. And he can easily fill the time; ask him about inflation and he'll launch into a story about his arch-nemesis Corn Pop. Ask him about America's border crisis and he'll list the many, many places where his son, Beau, was killed in action. Ask him about nuclear war and he'll share the jolly story of the day in the Oval Office that he confused the terms "lunch secrets" and "launch sequence."

While the debate should be a debacle for Ol' Joe, he admittedly fooled us when debating the last time around. Hopped up on God knows what kind of drugs, he presented himself dynamically and "politician clearly" by saying meaningless but seemingly lucid things he'd learned through a training program of treats and electric shocks.

Then again, people have been surprised that the first debate will happen so early in the campaign season - but maybe there's a reason for that. Biden's staffers may be planning to send him onto the stage unmedicated to have him self-destruct publically, thus allowing the Dems to substitute a different candidate who might stand a chance against Trump. 

THE SOUND OF (ALMOST REAL) MUSIC

I continue to play around with AI music generation for fun. Here's a recent creation that I'm quite happy with. Somewhat inspired by The Byrds "So You Wanna Be A Rock and Roll Star," this 60s-flavored piece of jangle pop has a warning for wannabee rockstars and anyone else who finds that old aspirations are standing in the way of new directions. I hope you enjoy it!

STULTIFYING STILTON STUFF

I want to apologize for my infrequent posting these days. I still care very much about this site and, especially, the wonderful community here. But being somewhat more fragile emotionally than I was previously (I pause to theatrically raise my wrist to my forehead, chin ever-so-slightly elevated in wistful martyrdom) I'm really not invested in the idiocy and fear-mongering of day-to-day news. Oh sure, I still mutter aloud about whose heads I'd like to see on a pike, but it doesn't seem like the kind of thing I should explicitly put in print.

Plus, Fauci's plague is still kicking my rear-end. I currently can't walk more than about 30 feet without getting breathless. If I make that a 60 foot round trip, I'll be gasping afterwards. Unsurprisingly, it's hard for me to get anything done: by the time I can walk to my lawnmower, I'm too breathless to push it. I have bags of mulch sitting on my porch that seem as immoveable as the stone slabs used to build the pyramids.

I've had oodles of medical tests and no one actually knows what's going on. Right now, the smart money is on micro blood clots screwing up my lungs and circulatory system. It's not an uncommon reaction to Covid and it can A) go away, B) become a chronic condition or, C) lead to stroke or heart attack. Currently there's no medical protocol for treating it, although I'm pretty sure we've got people in Wuhan working on it.

Side note: Congress has only now cut off funding for the EcoHealth Alliance, the group which funded (with taxpayers' money funneled through Anthony Fauci) the gain-of-function Covid mischief at the Wuhan Institute of Effing Up The World.  And in the most jaw-dropping show of chutzpah I've ever seen, this is the image you'll see when you visit the EcoHealth website...

And since they didn't answer their own question, the answer is "citizens with pikes."

Only You Can Prevent Dumpster Fires

Based on the above, humorless Joe may be thinking about asking Kristi Noem to give Smokey Bear a personal tour of her favorite gravel pit. Although the likelihood that he's capable of thinking about anything other than ice cream time and poopy time (which is frequently the same time) is diminishingly small.

As are the odds that the world is going to turn saner anytime soon. Let's see, we still have Trump on trial for things that aren't crimes, colleges in chaos owing to demonstrations in support of anti-Semitic terror, Boeing whistleblowers dying mysteriously (meaning by causes other than standing under the flight paths of disintegrating Boeing aircraft), multiple fronts for possible nuclear war, Bird flu threatening to end mankind (and news about mRNA vaccines perhaps making the birds' efforts redundant) and, saddest of all, we've still got over a month to wait before "Deadpool & Wolverine" hits the theaters.

Which is why it's so important for each of us to occasionally take a deep breath and let go of our stress. Or, as this pillow from Amazon Vine suggests...

And really, shouldn't we all try to be more Hom Enow? Personally, I've been able to find some ongoing escape and enjoyment by fiddling about in the world of AI music generation. Because when we express ourselves in song, we speak in the voice of angels...