Monthly Archives: February 2016 Trump



Physical Appearance Week!


He sweats a lot. He pissed in his pants. She’s too fat. He’s got huge ears.


This is why we haven’t been contacted by visitors from other planets. They know that the first thing we’ll do is judge their appearance. God knows I would never do such a thing. I’m just here to help. Here are some helpful suggestions: Mom Trump


Donald Trump needs to stay away from the tanning booth. Or the spray can, or whatever the hell it is that he uses. He’s beginning to resemble “Tan Mom.”




.          Black Vikings

                                  Black Sails                                          Vikings


The heroes on shows like Black Sails and Vikings:  I’m pretty sure that real Vikings and real pirates did not look like this. These dudes must be replaced, because they look like male models from the year 2016.



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Cheryl Tiegs caught hell for criticizing a fat girl who modeled for Sports Illustrated. Tiegs was right. The fat model is unhealthy, unsightly, and a bad role model. I might change my mind if the fat defenders would come out in support of smokers, but they don’t, so the hell with them. They are unhappy because society won’t embrace their desire to pig out on ice cream.

Below, Sports Illustrated “plus-size” model Ashley Graham strikes a cheeky pose … or perhaps not.


. chubby






I don’t understand the fuss over Donald Trump’s misspellings on Twitter. Trump did, after all, inform us that he loves the “poorly educated.”


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Share Adele


I rarely watch the Grammys. The last time might have been in 2010, when Taylor Swift stunk up the joint singing an off-key duet with Stevie Nicks (below). On Sunday, I tuned in again, just in time to hear Adele stink up the joint with her off-key singing.  I really need to stop watching the Grammys. Swift






I was shocked by FX’s decision to have a character do something naughty on the most recent episode of The People v. O.J. Simpson: American Crime Story. Actress Sarah Paulson, playing Marcia Clark, had … wait, what’s this? Folks were upset because she uttered a curse word?

Silly me. I had mistakenly assumed that everyone was upset because Paulson/Clark was repeatedly shown doing something much more horrific than cursing: smoking a cigarette.




.    .            Serota            Shrimp


“GOP presidential frontrunner Donald Trump inspects his own shriveled manhood after taking a shower.”

“Artist Illma Gore … actually drew Trump and his popcorn shrimp in all of its majestic glory.”

“The rendering of the blowhard Oompa Loompa’s thimble dick is titled ‘Make America Great Again.’”


— Maggie Serota (above left) of Death and Taxes, commenting on an Internet “portrait” (above right) of Donald Trump.


“Shriveled manhood?” “Popcorn shrimp?” “Thimble dick?”

What’s all this grumbling I hear about poor Hillary Clinton, as the only female presidential candidate, being unfairly judged on her looks?




The Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show — Isn’t it bad enough that we have One Percenters owning and running the country? Must we have One Percent dogs, as well?


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A Tribute to Ben Carszzzzzzzzzzzzzz … Carson


Apologies to Donald Trump, but with knife fights, a trip to Florida to get fresh-laundered clothes, and a botched entrance at the Republican debate, sleepy-eyed Ben Carson gets our vote for “Entertaining Candidate of the Year.”


.         Carson


. Carson Carson




The villainous Martin Shkreli reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. And then it came to me:


.                     Laurel Laurel




Not sure why this dumb video amuses me so much, but it does.




The Good News:  Craig Ferguson is back with a new panel show on History channel.

The Bad News:  The show is only on once a week. For just 30 minutes per episode. That’s not enough Craig Ferguson.




This week, I learned the significance of FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). People kept posting about “Bernie Sandwiches” and “Puppy Monkey Baby,” and I had no idea what they were going on about.

Now I know, and since I don’t know how to channel my feelings about the Puppy Monkey Baby, I’ll just make you look at this:



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Kingsman: The Secret Service Kingsman


A street kid is recruited by an international spy (Colin Firth) to combat an evil billionaire (Samuel L. Jackson) who plans to dramatically reduce Earth’s human population – ostensibly to combat global warming. This British spy movie is more in line with the sillier James Bond adventures starring Roger Moore than with the more recent, dead-serious Daniel Craig outings. The plot is outlandish and the villains cartoonish, but hey, that’s what we paid for. And besides, who doesn’t want to “do it in the asshole” with Swedish actress Hanna Alstrom? Release: 2015  Grade: B


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Is Super Jock Peyton Manning a lying sack of shit, an NFL rule breaker and a sexual harasser? Probably. Will we ever learn to stop idolizing our athletic heroes, no matter what they do off the field? Probably not.






Bill O’Reilly sent Jesse Watters (above) to the University of Oregon to try to make students look foolish with Watters’s man-on-the-street interviews.


Watters:  Why do you like Bernie [Sanders]?

Student:  He’s a great congressman.

Watters:  He’s a senator.

(Sound of crickets, to emphasize to viewers how empty-headed this student is)



Watters Thursday


Who’s the pinhead now?




Once upon a time, The Huffington Post at least made a token effort to appear objective in its “hard news” stories. Nowadays, we get this kind of thing:






Something to consider before you vote for our next president: Whose voice can you stand to listen to for four years, or possibly eight? It’s easy to look away from the TV when some annoying politician is on the air, but it’s often impossible to avoid the sound of his or her voice.

It’s been nearly eight years now, but when I close my eyes, I can still hear the nasal twang of George Bush:  “Some say …” .


***** Molly Rosenblatt


“We’re talking one to three inches – not that impressive.” – weather girl Molly Rosenblatt, at left in the picture above, insulting half her audience … or perhaps just me.


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by Umberto Eco Rose


I love this book, much as I love the movie it inspired, mostly for the world it so vividly recreates: a 14th-century monastery in the mountains of northern Italy, populated by monks, peasants – and an apparent serial killer. Although this medieval community is a great place to visit in a book, you probably wouldn’t want to live there. Not unless you enjoy fetching water from wells, laboring from dawn to dusk, and adhering to the strict lifestyle of a monk.

Eco, a scholar specializing in signs and symbols, depicts this world of bookish monks and warring religious factions with painstaking detail. (Alas, at times the reader might also experience pain; Eco’s lengthy philosophical and historical conversations can grow tiresome.)

The plot is driven a la Agatha Christie – someone is picking off abbey denizens, one by one – and the protagonist is courtesy of Arthur Conan Doyle – a brilliant Franciscan friar named William of Baskerville investigates the murders but above all it’s the atmospheric sense of time and place that makes this tale so absorbing.


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