May 8, 2020


Whenever the political action/tragi-comedy subsides, which is seldom in these days of almost constant ‘Trump-twitter’, I find myself reflecting on what has happened and either laughing—or shaking my head in disbelief—about it, and then going off into mental fantasy land and thinking about what ‘could’ happen. That’s what happened to me this Wednesday afternoon when I started to write this week’s blog.

     So, there I was, in a deep blue funk, thinking about how many hours it will be until cocktail time (5:00 PM) and I couldn’t think of anything new or different that has happened in our usually turbulent political world since last Friday evening to write about. Trump is still being idiot-incompetent Trump, the pols are still playing the ‘blame-game’ over the issues of where the virus started, and who failed to be prepared for it or to act intelligently in dealing with it, and Joe Biden is still being Joe Biden—hiding in his basement claiming, “It never happened!” And then ‘it’ occurred to me—almost like a bolt out of the blue! (Think summer heat lightening in hot, dry, New Mexico where it is 90 degrees F this afternoon!)—Why not use this blog to explore the what ‘could’ happen?

      In order to get myself in the proper mood for this kind of fantasy exploration, I decided to move the cocktail hour backward to 3:30 PM. Done! I have to tell you that Uncle Jack’s finest tastes better before 5 PM than it does after 5PM. Fact -now proven! I think I will have another sip of Uncle Jack’s finest before I start the next paragraph. And, I think I should take a few carrots out to Hubris before I take too many sips and forget my basic horse-owner responsibilities. Hubris just may have something important to add to my musings.

     Hubris enjoyed the carrots but said he wasn’t in the mood for any more political fantasy. He said he’s had enough of that in real life already.

     So, as the song says, “Off we go, into the wild, blue, yonder” -of political fantasy land!——–This just in from Fox news: (Announcer, Shawn Hannity, speaking) Donald Trump has just arrived, unexpectedly, at our studio and  has asked to be allowed to make a statement to the American people. Go ahead, Mr. President! (Trump speaking) “Hello my fellow Americans! I think I owe you all an apology. I really have not been a very good president. And, I must add, I’m not ‘perfect’ or even as close to that marker as I claimed to be. Worse, I have told you so many lies that even I—I’m prettty goood with arithmetic—can’t count that high. I have to admit that when I promised to drain the swamp I didn’t even know where the swamp was, much less, how to drain it. I had no idea what the CDC, the NHS, or the WHO really did, other than suck up a lot of dollars that could have gone to my friends in big business—where I’ve always wanted to be.  Yes, I did think that a tax break would be good for all Americans but I let Jared arrange the deal with Mitch and we ended up screwing the usual 90% of the dumb, sucker, lower income taxpayers and enriching my favorite 10%—the rich, like I want to be—who didn’t really need another dime of government help.

    Now, for the part of my presidency that I have a bigger problem explaining: I always wanted to be a doctor. But, my dad didn’t think I was smart enough to be one. In fact, I would have flunked out of Prep school, and Warton –if my father hadn’t given them so much money they couldn’t afford not to give me passing grades. I just couldn’t stop myself from trying to give medical advice when all that virus ‘stuff’ started to happen. When the shit (Sorry, I meant to say ‘stuff’) started to hit the fan, I finally decided that I really couldn’t handle that responsibility so I gave it to Mike, and if he started to really screw things up (which I was sure he would do) I also asked Jared to form a task force to deal with it and advise me—as he has done soooo often. Jared is a really good kid—and he’s really smart. And then, there is that bat-shit business about where the virus came from and who did or didn’t shout the warnings early enough or that we weren’t prepared enough. I told everybody that I wasn’t responsible for any of that! I didn’t, and still don’t, want to be responsible for anything! I just want to be the President! Now, I’ve said my piece. If you don’t like what I’ve said, or don‘t want me to be your President, you can take this job and shove it—you know where! I’m going to Mar-a-Lago and play golf until this virus stuff is over! Write—if you dumb bastards ever get work!

     And, just up the road from Wash DC, the voice of Joe Biden comes from out of his basement and onto NBC News without introduction.   (Joe Biden speaking) My fellow Republicans: I want you all to know that I am sick and tired of being accused of not remembering anything. Why, just the other day, Joan, my wife, told me that I didn’t remember groping that young intern, Anna, I think that was her name, was it thirty some years ago (?) when I was a young executive in the banking business. BS! I remember it as clear as every ‘X’-rated porn movie I’ve seen on TV.  I thought she, sort-of, liked me and I thought she was really cute. So I tried to give her a hug and a kiss. What’s the big deal? Now that’s the end of that! Once and for all, I don’t have a bad temper, and, I have always liked men—I mean women.  Further, I don’t think I want to be the president of a country that has so much sickness and is on the way to a serious financial depression. Anybody that voted for George W. Bush or Barack Obama needs to have their heads examined if they think that I could do a better job than either one of those two great guys did, even at my age of 67! And they didn’t have a pandemic or a depression to deal with. So, my fellow Armenians, I want to stay in my basement and watch porn on the TV with my wife Jean. Take that job as President and —- you know what I mean— and where to ship it. At that point, the sound system of NBC News went dead, as dead as the Presidential campaign of Uncle Joe Biden! And then, I started to come out of my mental fog.

   Ah bliss! If I just knew where she was I’d ask her to have a drink with us. Hubris and I are about to saddle up and head for the ditch banks. After all, it’s Friday evening and I’ve got to get my head on straight. Nothing less than being on the back of a good horse, or on the front of a good woman, will do that.  I’ll have to take what I can get.  So, it’s Hi Ho Hubris, Awaaay!



                     Copyright, May 8, 2020, Louis J. Christen   

Lou (The lone Curmudgeon) Writes Again! A Little Prognostication (think Eine Kleine Nachtmusik playing)