The Grouchy Editor

A thoughtful, measured meditation on Trump:

 

 

Our poor celebrities. When it comes to President Trump, they are damned if they do, damned if they don’t. Just ask Tom Brady or Ashley Judd.

Seems like celebrities have three choices: Blast Trump like Madonna did and anger half the country, “embrace” Trump like Matthew McConaughey did and anger the other half of the country, or just shut the hell up.

 

Probably best to just shut the hell up.

 

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“Dandy Drunk” Don Lemon interviewed the director of a new film called I Am Not Your Negro (above).

I recall thinking when I first saw that title: “This thing is going to set box-office records.”

 

… Sometimes I lie to you.

 

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I don’t understand it. Unlike, say, Sarah Palin, Trump does not come off like a complete idiot at press conferences or in sit-down interviews. But on Twitter he often sounds like a drunken 10-year-old:

 

 

Maybe someday we’ll discover that it was really Barron doing the tweeting.

 

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Hollywood types embarrassed themselves all week, but my vote for most ridiculous, “we are clueless” moment came when Saturday Night Live’s Sasheer Zamata and Cecily Strong, above, performed a saccharine tribute to Barack Obama by warbling “To Sir With Love.”

They both needed a cold shower, and I needed a brown paper bag.

 

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Conservatives missed a golden opportunity in the culture wars when Mary Tyler Moore died. Liberals hailed Moore as a “feminist icon,” but according to that bastion of infallible information, Wikipedia, in reality she was a fan of Bill O’Reilly, Charles Krauthammer, John McCain and Fox News. Oh, and she was not a big fan of real feminist icon Gloria Steinem.

 

 

Speaking of Moore … Oprah toady Gayle King hosted a special about Moore and expressed horror when Her Oprahness revealed that she had once considered taking a newsroom job in my city, Minneapolis, the setting for The Mary Tyler Moore Show. Gasped King, “I’m sorry!”

Hey, at least we aren’t a cesspool of gang warfare and murder like, say … Chicago?

 

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Tucker Carlson and Chris Hayes remind me of each other. They’re both easily excitable and when they get agitated their voices go all high-pitched and squeaky.

 

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I checked out Riverdale, The CW’s new spin on the gang from Archie comic books.

I’m going to go out on a limb and guess that this show will not become Donald Trump’s latest TV obsession – at least not in a positive way.

Let’s see: Archie Andrews, a good-natured klutz in the comics, in the TV series is an angst-ridden, oh-so-sensitive bore. Moose is gay. Miss Grundy is a pedophile. Jughead, such a delightful oddball in the comics, is a humorless scold.

OK, I realize I’m not in the target demographic for this teen-oriented stuff, but gee willikers ….

 

Veronica shows her good side

 

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I sort of – not really, but sort of – feel sorry for Melania Trump, who might be the unhappiest woman in America.

 

She comes from the world of fashion and money – and most of those people believe her husband is a vulgar clown.

Her speeches get mocked.

She’s suing a publication because it accused her of being a former prostitute.

She’s expected to downsize from her ritzy Manhattan digs to the lowly White House.

Her husband is rumored to enjoy watching hookers pee on each other.

Her husband is rumored to have the hots for his own daughter.

Yes, I sort of – but not really – feel sorry for Melania Trump.

 

But then I remember her wealth and privilege and I think: Fuck that noise.

 

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I sort of – not really, but sort of – feel sorry for the talking heads on cable news who are tasked with defending Donald Trump. You simply cannot defend the man. He says and does too many boneheaded or wrongheaded things.

 

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I sort of feel sorry for the media. … Just kidding!

 

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A Tweet

 

 

This is why some of us love Twitter.

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

“The city has the panicked air of a B-horror movie where the townsfolk stand stock still, bug-eyed and frozen, too frightened to flee, waiting for the creature.”

— Maureen Dowd describing Washington D.C. before The Coming of Trump.

 

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Wonder if Trump is enjoying the “honeymoon” traditionally granted new presidents by political foes and the media … LOL!

 

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I just watched a scary movie called Don’t Breathe, which is set in a rundown section of Detroit. Last year, I watched a horror movie called It Follows, which is set in rundown sections of Detroit.

Poor Detroit. It seems to be the go-to-place if you want to frighten audiences.

 

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I can’t bring myself to say anything more about politics. I think about Trump and I get angry. I think about Democrats and I get angry. I think about the press – right-wing and left-wing – and I get angry. I can’t even think about Meryl Friggin’ Streep without getting angry.

 

I suggest we all just forget about politics, for now, and enjoy these pictures:

 

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                                        (Click on pictures for larger views)

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

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Mariah Carey’s New Year’s Eve performance was unwatchable. Not because of sound problems. No, because her ass is the size of North Korea.

 

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There is a God.

 

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I don’t want to see Ronda Rousey in the ring. I want to see Bill Maher vs. Anthony Bourdain.

 

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Shepard Smith reported, not once but twice, that “Emilio Esteban” was the suspected perpetrator at Friday’s airport shooting in Florida.

I suspect that Shep had recently re-watched The Breakfast Club and was subconsciously wondering whatever became of Emilio Estevez.

 

 

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I don’t blame the Republicans for Trump. After all, they didn’t really want him and, after they got stuck with him, they didn’t think he had a chance in hell of winning.

No, I blame the Democrats for Trump. They pissed off so many people that those voters felt they had no choice but to toss a hand grenade named Trump into the Washington swamp – even when they knew he might blow up the whole damn country.

 

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Random Tweets

 

 

The language is unfortunate, but the point is well taken.

 

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Rip can now die a happy man.

 

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More Fat America News:

 

 

CBS Evening News did a story about a new tax on sugary drinks in Philadelphia, in which city officials hope “to bring down obesity rates.” CBS interviewed Deputy Revenue Commissioner Marisa Waxman, pictured below, who presumably knows something about obesity.

 

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

Hey, our predictions are as good as anyone else’s.

 

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It’s always sad to see Hollywood legends like Debbie Reynolds pass away.

But Doris Day is still alive. And Kirk Douglas is still alive. And Jerry Lew—

 

 

Oh, never mind.

 

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© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

TCM was showing a Disney movie, a nature film about a cute squirrel named Perri. It had been quite a few years since I’d watched anything Disney-related, so I tuned in.

After we are introduced to furry little Perri and her adorable squirrel family, the movie proceeds to document one vicious Mother Nature-orchestrated slaughter after another. A marmot catches and tears Papa Squirrel to shreds. A hawk spots a flying squirrel and snags it for dinner. And so on. A man narrates the carnage in the blasé tone of someone describing how to butter toast.

It was, to say the least, a disturbing experience.

I’m not sure why kids who watched these Disney movies, including yours truly, didn’t just crawl under their beds and stay there for life.

 

 

Merry Christmas. 

 

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The FBI is warning that ISIS would like to attack your church this holiday weekend. Trump and Putin have decided that this is a good time to remind everyone that nuclear warfare could obliterate us all.

Merry Christmas.

 

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Shepard Smith on Monday informed viewers that President Obama pardoned a number of people during his “pregnancy.”

I’ve tried to locate video but, alas, the Internet fails me.

 

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Speaking of pregnancy, this was in the news:

 

 

No comment.

 

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How to conduct a news interview: Rachel Maddow, arguably liberal media’s best interrogator, sparred with the unflappable Kellyanne Conway on Thursday. Great television.

 

How not to conduct a news interview:  Tucker Carlson, Fox News’s latest attack dog, was called a “son of a bitch” by flustered journalist Lauren Duca on Friday. Garbage television. 

 

Carlson:  “You should stick to the thigh-high boots. You’re better at that.”

Duca:  “You’re a (bleeped).”

 

I suppose she might have said “sexist pig.” Hard to say, since I don’t read lips.

 

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A piece of advice for sports fans (and everyone else) living in cities with professional teams begging for new stadiums: In Minnesota, taxpayers were warned that the Vikings and Twins “could not compete” without brand-new, taxpayer-funded playpens. After the billionaire owners and millionaire players got their new stadiums, the citizens were rewarded with … noncompetitive teams.

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

I didn’t like it when Bill Clinton put his unelected wife in charge of health care in 1993, and I don’t like it now when Donald Trump gives his unelected progeny prominent seats at government meetings (above). Trump’s going to have enough problems with his own conflicts of interest without dragging in The Stepford Kids.

 

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Trump hasn’t even taken the oath of office, yet it feels like he’s been president for years.

Let’s see: We have a Trump-related crisis with China and a Trump-related crisis with Russia, and we have Trump-related impeachment talk in Congress.

And Trump won’t be sworn in for another 34 days.

 

Like my pal Keith at Walgreens says, it’s going to be an interesting four years.

 

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I’m convinced that this whole thing began five years ago when Obama ridiculed Trump at the White House Correspondents’ dinner. Trump decided then and there that he would run for president – just to spite Obama.

I believe this because the day preceding that dinner is the last time we have documented evidence of Trump with a smile on his face.

 

Oh, and these “thank you” tours? I’m surprised the media isn’t calling them what they obviously are: “I crave the adulation of a big crowd” tours.

 

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Vladimir Putin is said to have a “personal beef” with Hillary Clinton. Sort of like Trump having a personal beef with Obama, or George Bush having a personal beef with Saddam Hussein.

Seems increasingly obvious that world affairs are governed by personal beefs. Doesn’t matter if you went to Harvard or Yale. Doesn’t matter if you are worth billions of dollars.

And it doesn’t matter if you lead your country into war. The important thing is to resolve your personal beef.

 

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I suppose Chris Matthews gets a thrill up his leg when he sees commercials for this movie.

 

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Rex Tillerson:  I can’t recall any person in the news whose pictures so often and so prominently feature … nose hairs.

 

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Yeah, you dummies. Lucky for you, you can always watch it on Netflix.

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

I had to chuckle when I saw Time’s announcement of Person of the Year, because I knew what was coming. Time really ought to consider changing the name of the thing, possibly to “Influential Person of the Year,” if only to spare itself some grief.

As happens almost every year, Time got swamped with Twitter outrage from ignoramuses who equate the magazine’s declaration with an endorsement.

Maybe Bill Maher is right: Maybe America really is a nation of idiots.

 

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I’m seeing a lot of trailers for the movie Miss Sloane, and not for the first time I am struck by this notion: Jessica Chastain is not a very good actress. Why does she keep getting such juicy roles?

 

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Some feminists are upset with the song “Baby, It’s Cold Outside,” which was first sung by Mexico-born Ricardo Montalban in a 1949 movie, and which feminists feel depicts a man coercing a woman into unwanted sex.

These feminists must be racist like Trump: Mexico = Montalban = rapist

 

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

 

Sure does look like Donald Trump is draining the Washington swamp of crocodiles. Problem is, he’s restocking it with alligators. Mostly Goldman Sachs alligators.

 

The question could be: Who will the alligators eat first, taxpayers or Donald Trump?

 

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If Trump is going to deport immigrants, I suggest he start by giving the boot to clueless newcomers John Oliver and Trevor Noah, who don’t seem to understand (or care) that the United States has a Midwest.

My guess is that the two of them watched an episode of Duck Dynasty and then decided they had a finger on the pulse of America’s heartland.

 

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I’m not digging Nat Geo’s Mars because I have an aversion to the woman who plays the crew’s captain (below). She is a humorless puke, and I dislike humorless pukes.

 

 

I suppose that in real life, should I find myself stuck on Mars and battling to survive, I would want my captain to be a humorless puke. But I’m watching a TV show, so I don’t care to spend so much time with this particular humorless puke.

 

Did I mention that lately I am enamored of the term “humorless puke”?

 

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Some enterprising grad student or media watchdog should document the amount of air time Fox News anchors devote to promoting their books. Led by “Buy My Book” Bill O’Reilly, so many minutes are spent on pitching memoirs and novels, you have to wonder how much real news gets sacrificed.

 

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Netflix keeps churning out original movies and series that don’t interest me. On the other hand, I’m grateful to Netflix for importing so many good foreign shows.

I just finished “Department Q,” a series of three films from Denmark, and I recommend it. It’s a cop drama that does suffer a bit from James Bond disease, in which the endings turn sensationalistic and silly, but everything else – intriguing characters, striking visuals, grim atmosphere – clicks.

 

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