Faith Can Move Mountains... But Dynamite Works Better
Showing posts with label Chris Christie. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Christie. Show all posts

Monday, February 22, 2021

South Of The Border, Down Mexico Way

Ted Cruz Self-Quarantining After Cancun Trip During State Disaster; Sam Houston Rolls Over In Grave

Washington (AP). In a year that has already seen the bizarre and promises more of the same, the polarizing junior senator from the state of Texas is in a world of trouble. More so than usual. Ted Cruz (R-Texas) is well known as something of a volatile politician, climate change denier, source of controversy, and apologist for the former president (who incidentally is presently exiled at Mar-a-Lago and promising 'revenge bigly' on the planet). Cruz, often suspected of being the Zodiac Killer, made headlines recently for his latest gaffe: jetting off for a vacation to Cancun with his wife and daughters.

While his home state of Texas became frozen by a winter storm that took down the power grid and affected millions of Texans.


It's been a difficult year for the world. The Covid-19 pandemic continues to loom over all. It's especially hit hard in the United States, where the policies of the previous administration seemed to exasperate the issue. Deep divisions run rampant in the country, personified in the January 6th invasion of the Capitol by Trump supporters. President Biden is working to repair the damage left behind by the Trump administration. And Cruz, true to form, has been an obstructionist since the dawn of the new administration.

And then Mother Nature came along.


Winter has been a hard one in many parts of North America. Some of those places are used to hard winters. Others are not. The state of Texas was slammed by a storm that tracked its way across much of the continent. In its wake was a deep cold, ice, bursting pipes, and the collapse of the power grid. Millions of the state's residents have been affected in one way or another. Over four million were left without power. Millions more were cut off from access to drinking water. 

And in the midst of all this, Ted Cruz jetted off to Cancun with his wife Heidi and their daughters Caroline and Catherine, leaving the state behind at the worst possible moment.


Natural disasters can be a boon or a nightmare for a politician. Competence and concern can lead to the former. Incompetence the latter. The conventional wisdom suggests that you ensure responders have the resources they need, show up and tour the damage, talk to people affected, show some concern... and don't commit a gaffe. Conventional wisdom also suggests that taking a vacation while your constituency is suffering is a really, really bad thing.


And yet Cruz and the family headed to Cancun for some time in the sun regardless. Dogged by controversy, Cruz returned days ago to much furor as Texans fought to cope with the disaster. Claiming that he wanted to be a good dad to his daughters and give them a break, figuratively throwing them under the bus for his own stupid decision, Cruz was seen walking through an airport, spoke briefly to reporters, wearing a mask for what seems to be the first time since Covid started. How long has that been again?


And so the recriminations are being tossed back and forth. Cruz and his family are engaged in the standard fourteen day quarantine after their vacation was so rudely interrupted by a nasty winter storm. People are demanding that he resign. Other political figures picked up the slack during his absence and undertook measures to help Texans trying to cope with the current state of things. Power companies are making excuses about their own incompetence.


Cruz has admitted that the vacation was a mistake. One wonders why he didn't see that in advance. But Ted Cruz has often shown an appalling lack of judgment in pretty much everything in life, along with an obliviousness to anything beyond himself. A man who blames his vacation on his daughters isn't much of a man.


In the aftermath, Cruz has become an object of ridicule and scorn online and beyond, with memes depicting him in various settings toting a luggage bag. More scorn than usual, because to be perfectly clear, it's pretty easy to make fun of Ted Cruz, since he routinely offers no shortage of inspiration in that regard pretty much every single day of the year.


Has his luck run out? That is the question. Cruz has managed to spend a career getting himself into trouble and offering half hearted mea culpas after the fact. He has spent years living with the absurd suspicion that he is, in fact, the Zodiac Killer (note to readers: he's not). His supporters have overlooked those gaffes. But now, in the wake of a devastating winter storm that has left many of them suffering, how forgiving are they willing to be of a man who decided time in the sun was more important than living up to his responsibilities? Time will tell.


The Republican party at the national level has enough problems these days. One of their own being tone deaf to reality doesn't help... especially when so many of the rest of them have the same terrible affliction. Even so, CancunGate presents the GOP with another problem to the mountain of problems. What do you do with a Ted Cruz when he's outlived his usefulness and his own state is screaming for his blood?


To be fair, it must be tough for Ted Cruz to be Ted Cruz right now. Seeing protestors outside his home every day during his quarantine demanding that he resign. Seeing the looks on the faces of his daughters, who know that he tried to cast them as the reason for the vacation and deflect responsibility for his own dumbassery. It's a lonely place to be in.

In closing, a psychic in Dallas reported making contact with the spirit of the legendary Texas leader Sam Houston yesterday. Madame Ballard The All Seeing, as she calls herself, reported that Houston was not impressed by the current situation. "To use his precise words about the senator, Houston exclaimed, 'he's an asshole!'"

Saturday, March 10, 2018

A Day In The Life Of A Mobster

I have something different today, the point of view of a gangster. I still haven't decided if he's a snitch.


7:25 AM. Awake at home. Having breakfast. Hot coffee and toast. Well done, just the way I like it. The wife’s off in the Caribbean somewhere. Gotta look up where, sooner or later. Theresa said something about tans and beaches and margaritas, I don’t know, I wasn’t paying much attention….


7:53 AM. A last look at myself in the mirror before I head out the door. Crisp grey suit, matching tie, black shirt. Jeez, I’m starting to look like a stereotype of the job.


7:55 AM. Stepping out my front door. Nico and Lorenzo are waiting by the Rolls. Hey, fellas, how the **** you doing? You do know I can drive myself, right?


7:56 AM. Nico tells me Don Bianchi wants to see me right away. The boss himself? Wow, I wonder what brought him all the way here from Sicily. Okay, fellas, so let’s get moving already.



8:20 AM. Nico and Lorenzo walk me into the coffee warehouse. That’s what we call the place anyway. Bianchi Coffee. Not that we actually move coffee, and the cops know it. Knowing it and proving it are two different things, you know what I’m saying?


8:21 AM. Finding myself in the back office, where Don Carlos Bianchi is waiting in person. The capo di capi of the whole organization. Don Bianchi, it’s an honour.

Something seems off. The don doesn’t seem pleased to see me.


8:23 AM. Nico and Lorenzo have put me down on a chair. Hard. And they’re looming behind me like the three hundred pounds of hired muscle that they are. Don Bianchi accuses me of ratting to the cops. I’m horrified by the accusation. I mean, come on, Don Bianchi, what kind of low down rat would talk to the cops? I mean, sure, they call me Joey the Rat, but that’s an ironic name! I have no idea who squealed to the cops and got your grandson thrown in jail for the next thirty years, but if I knew, I’d have already whacked them, bada bing bada boom! You of all people know how safe a secret is when it’s kept by me. I mean, I’ve never told anyone that Nico is banging Lorenzo’s wife and Lorenzo doesn’t even…

Oh, ****, did I just say that out loud?


8:25 AM. Don Bianchi tells Nico and Lorenzo to stop hitting each other. They stop, and then he makes a hand gesture. Before I know what’s happening, I feel an impact to the back of my head, and everything goes black.


11:14 AM. Coming to. Feels like everything is moving. Opening my eyes. Looking around. Assessing. Looks like I’m in a plane cabin. A small plane. Hands tied behind my back. Lying on the floor. Nico is over there. Lorenzo is in the other direction. Both of them aren’t looking at each other. Hey, fellas, a little help here, you know what I'm saying?


11:28 AM. Nico and Lorenzo haven’t said much of anything to me, aside from telling me to shut up. Come on, fellas, so I slipped up about the whole thing with Nico screwin’ Giulietta, so what? These things happen. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t had some action on the side myself while my Theresa isn’t paying attention. Now where were we? Oh, right, how about you untie me and we let bygones be bygones?


12:03 PM. The pilot calls back to Nico and Lorenzo. Says we’re out past the limit and depressurized. The limit of what? Come on, fellas, you know me. You know I would never have ratted to the cops. I mean, there’s that whole code we have. The omerta. Code of silence. We’re mobsters. We don’t rat each other out. At least to the cops. Sorry about the whole ratting you and Giulietta out thing, Nico, but it was an honest mistake. My point is there’s a big difference between slipping up and letting Lorenzo know his wife has been cheating on him, and giving the cops evidence to put away Paolo Bianchi for drug trafficking!


12:05 PM. Nico and Lorenzo help me up to my feet. It’s about time, fellas, so go ahead and untie me already, my wrists are sore.


12:06 PM. Lorenzo moves forward, while Nico’s hustling me by the arm from behind. I stop when I see Lorenzo opening up the cabin door. I hear the roar of the air outside coming. It suddenly hits me that this is a one way trip for me. Now wait a minute, fellas… let’s not lose our heads here.


12:07 PM. Nico starts pushing me towards the open door. Come on! Look, we can make a deal, right? I’ve got money. Us three, fellas, and hell, even the pilot. We can make a ****ing deal. Hey! Lorenzo, I toasted you and Giulietta at your wedding, remember? You honestly telling me you’re gonna whack one of your wedding guests?


12:07:32 PM. Nico and Lorenzo push and pull me closer to the door. One last glance outside at the big void of empty air. Looks like we’re five thousand feet up. Lots of ocean down there. Oh, ****, come on fellas, couldn’t you have just put two bullets in my head bada bing bada boom? That would have been merciful!


12:08:17 PM. They’ve got me right at the threshold. I can feel the wind against my face. Hands tied up behind me, can’t grip anything… Nico yells in my ear that I should know that Theresa is ****ing that trainer at her gym. Wait a minute… my Theresa is banging Randy ****ing Walden???


12:08:29 PM. Two pairs of hands shove me out the door. I feel myself falling straight off, hurtling down towards the ocean. Wondering if I’ll lose consciousness before I hit. Wondering how bad the impact will be. Wondering how the **** I could have missed the fact that my wife is ****ing her trainer. Wondering if she’s banging him right now wherever the **** she is. I mean, that ****ing idiot Walden??? What’s he got that I do….


12:10 PM. A moment of blackness. Opening my eyes. Finding myself in a fire and brimstone kinda place with guys with red skin, carrying pitchforks and bullwhips. I think this is hell, you know what I’m saying?

**** that! Joey the Rat Falcone was supposed to end up in the other place! 

Wednesday, July 12, 2017

Captain Ahab And The Governor


Governor Digs Himself Deeper Into The Sand; Doesn’t Care

Trenton (AP) The embattled governor of New Jersey, Chris Christie, having been term-limited to not run for a third term in the November elections, is facing the last months of his time in the top job under fire. That has increased since the Fourth of July weekend, after the governor closed state beaches and was shown to be spending the occasion with his family on a beach devoid of other people, an incident that has raised outrage against him, lowered his polling numbers even more, and resulted in a deluge of memes making fun of him.


The governor has been dismissive of criticism, both personally and through his staff, suggesting that he didn’t get any sun- noting that he’d been ‘wearing a hat’ after cornered with the photographic evidence. After days of grumbling, snorts, and sneers from the governor, he faced reporters with a statement about the matter at the state capitol.

“First of all, I won’t be taking any ****ing questions from you ****ing lowlifes, understand?” he said, glaring at everyone, sweating like mad, looking like he was five minutes from a massive heart attack. In fairness, he’s looked that way for the better part of a decade. “Second, I had every right to shut down those ****ing beaches on the busiest ****ing weekend of the ****ing year!!!” An aide strode up and whispered in his ear. Christie turned and struck him in the face. “**** off! I know I’m ****ing swearing! Don’t tell me what to do!”


The governor took to the lectern again, glaring around at everyone. The aide wasn’t stirring, lying on the floor, his eyes closed. “Now where the **** was I? Oh right! Third, I don’t give a **** that anyone says I’m the least popular ****ing governor in the country! **** you! You people didn’t ****ing make me the GOP candidate last year, so ****ing **** all of you! **** the ****ing lot of you ****ers!”

He paused now, clutching his chest for a moment. Reporters wondered if this was the long expected massive heart attack. Then he steadied himself, picked up a hoagie sandwich that had been left on the lectern and took a couple of bites. “And another ****ing thing! I don’t ****ing like that I didn’t get to be the ****ing Secretary of ****ing State! I mean, who gives a ****ing **** if I happened to put Jared ****ing Kushner’s ****ing father in prison? Aside from Jared ****ing Kushner? I don’t care! Do you care? No!


Christie took more bites out of the hoagie. Another aide was busy checking the fallen aide, who had yet to wake up. “And understand this, you mother ****ers! I closed those ****ing beaches, every single ****ing one of them, for a very good reason! And it wasn’t about ****ing impasses over the ****ing state budget! It was because there was no ****ing way I was going to ****ing spend my ****ing Fourth of July ****ing weekend around ****ing New Jersey deadbeat ****ers when I could forbid those ****ers from being on the beach! I ****ing hate New Jersey voters! This whole ****ing state is full of ****ed up ****ing ****ers who I ****ing despise! And that’s why I did what I ****ing did!”


He took another bite out of the hoagie. The second aide was calling for an ambulance for her fallen colleague. Reporters were looking back and forth between both spectacles. Christie continued sweating like mad. Swallowing another mouthful, he carried on. “And another thing! Don’t you ****ing ****ers out there keep ****ing making ****ing fun of me! I’m sick and tired of seeing ****ing memes with my photo set all over the ****ing place! I’m ****ing tired of people comparing me to Moby ****ing Dick!”


Christie paused, taking another bite of the hoagie. “I am not a ****ing whale! I am not ****ing obese! I am not a temperamental ****ing ****er! I’m a ****ing good ****ing person, and I won’t stand by and let you ****ing ****ers keep ****ing insulting me! **** the whole ****ing lot of you!”

At this point, two staff members pulled Christie away from the lectern and out of the room. “Wait a ****ing minute!” Christie hollered. “I haven’t ****ing finished my ****ing hoagie! **** you! You hear me? You’re ****ing fired!”


The doors were shut. Paramedics came to retrieve the fallen staffer, who was taken to hospital. Reportedly the police paid a visit to the governor. Assault charges may or may not be pending. Reporters have been speculating if the governor will ever hold another press conference again. Staffers are busy updating resumes and seeking out new jobs.

In a related development, the fall election has seen the arrival of a dark horse independent candidate who’s thrown his hat into the ring. Described as much more articulate and affable than Christie, he seems an unlikely choice for the job, but his supporters hope he can restore dignity to the office.

Wednesday, July 27, 2016

Gollum And The Precious Nomination

Since I had my take on Donald Trump's speech last week, fair's fair and so here's a take on Hillary's acceptance speech this week. 


“I must say, basking in triumph like this is very, very satisfactory. It will only be all the more so in November when we’ve won and I finally get to call myself President Hillary Rodham Clinton. And then rub it in the face of that oompa loompa.

Thank you for your confidence in me. I’ve wanted this for many, many years. Longer than anyone can know. We’re so close to the mountain top. It’s just there, that much closer after all the work we’ve done for years and years and years on end. I’m ready to plant the flag on the top. Which reminds me of the stories about who I was named after. You know, you can go on for years thinking you’re named for Edmund Hillary because of his great triumph in reaching the top of the highest mountain on earth... before you realize you were born a few years too early. Oh well, that’s a detail, and sometimes details are things we overlook.


Where was I? Oh yes, wanting this for many years. The presidency is something I’ve been close to for a long time. And I wanted it. Oh, did I want it. I needed it. I had to have it. It was mine, my own, my precious...

I’m getting carried away with myself again.

My point is when I was growing up I already decided to myself that I wanted to be in the White House. And not just as a First Lady or as a Cabinet member or whatever. As the one person making the big decisions. No, not the court jester. Which reminds me, what’s Carville doing these days?


I wanted to be the President. Not just the President, but the very first woman President.

I wanted to be that trailblazer, showing the way to the future, showing young girls that hey, you too can grow up to be the President of the United States. Eventually. After you’ve married a governor who ends up being President himself. After you’ve done time... in the Senate, people, in the Senate! Not the big house, despite what Chris Christie and the oompa loompa think should happen to me. Honestly, Governor Christie, how do you live with yourself?


Where was I? Right. After time in the Senate. And then Secretary of State.

But before that came my first run at the nomination. Eight years ago.

Of course the party didn’t see things my way eight years ago. Instead they gave it to the President.

They stoles it from us! Nasty filthy little hobbitses, it was ours! Ours! And they stoles it!


Ahem. Sorry about that. I got a little off track.

So everything I did was about getting myself in place for this great day. Well, this great day and the election day, which will be even greater.

Yes, we managed to get through the Sixties. Like Bill, I didn’t inhale. Though it might have been okay in retrospect if I had inhaled. I might have ended up being a bit more mellow and laid back, and well, kind of human in the way I interact with people. Oh well, at least I don’t come across like a complete robot, unlike a certain Republican I won’t mention.

Marco Rubio, I’m looking at you.


So there we were, getting ourselves established, living like the other half lived, or whatever that expression meant. Making our bona fides known and having a daughter we’re so very proud of and all that. And have I mentioned how pleased I am to be a grandmother? It really works well with the focus groups, even if I can’t knit so much as one of those adorable baby socks you see in all the nostalgic magazines about grandmotherhood.

Aren’t babies precious?

My precious, my precious... we wants it!


Oh, there I go again. Bill calls it my Smeagol moment. I kind of drift off into imitations of that character, that’s all. And that’s all they are. Imitations! I am not overly obsessed with the Ring of Sauron and I am not deranged and having conversations with myself all the time. There is no Ring of Sauron, and I’m not obsessed with it.

The Oval Office, on the other hand...


Anyway, I know what the polls say. That I’m one of the most unfavourable candidates in American history. Rest assured, though, that the oompa loompa is even more unlikable than I am. So to the voters out there who haven’t decided, ask yourself this: do you want someone who brings experience and wisdom and the occasional streak of being a bit terribly unlikable in the Oval Office? Do you want someone who’s from time to time been investigated by the FBI like I have? Do you want someone whose party has perpetually asked, are we sure it has to be her?

Or do you want a tiny handed oompa loompa with zero political experience, business disasters, and no social skills?

America, let’s move forward together. We’ve done it before. I’ve done it before, what with forgiving my husband every time he’s gone astray. Which reminds me, to the White House interns of the female persuasion, you won’t have to worry. I’m having Bill fitting with an electro-shock collar that gives him a jolt any time he gets turned on.


Oh, sure, Bill, laugh now, but you won’t be laughing the first time you get shocked.

My fellow Americans, I look forward to serving as your President. I look forward to leading this country forward past all the division and the rancor. I really look forward to sitting in the Oval Office making all the big decisions.

Because it’s mine. Mine! My own! My precious! We needs it! We wants it! It’s ours! Nasty Bernies Sanderses standing in our way! It’s ours!


Ahem... there I go again. Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.

Thank you for your support. To those members of the party who wanted Bernie up here, I will do everything I can to gain your trust, even if I have to name the cranky old guy to my cabinet. To the oompa loompa, I say this: Donald, everyone knows it’s a combover.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I see that Bill’s sniffing around the barely legal daughter of the governor.”