A Return To Sanity

 Inauguration Day is upon us. The long national nightmare is over. 

Cue the screams, tears, and beating of the Oval Office floor with tiny hands as the departing president is dragged out of the place. To which I say good riddance.

A Strange Case Of Van Winkle Syndrome

Outgoing Cabinet Secretary Departs In Typical Lethargic Fashion    January 20^th, 2021

Washington, DC (AP) With the new Biden presidency reaching its inauguration day today, federal departments are in a state of transition with soon to be former cabinet secretaries moving on. President Pence has been busy with his final hours of his inherited presidency and his certain low regard in history. President-Elect Biden has been readying his administration to begin to repair the damage done, both domestically and internationally, by the Trump and Pence administrations, after running under the slogan Restoring Sanity.

The previous president, presently incarcerated on a treason conviction in a federal prison and deprived of his Twitter account, isn’t speaking. The same applies to his daughter Ivanka and her husband Jared Kushner, both of whom are in separate prisons on fraud convictions. Sons Eric and Donald Trump Jr. remain at large, convicted in absentia on fraud charges and believed to be somewhere with no extradition treaties. Former First Lady Melania Trump has left the country with her son. The only Trump free of disgrace and criminal charges happens to be often forgotten Trump daughter Tiffany, who issued a statement last week apologizing to the American people for the behavior of her relatives, and expressing profound gratitude that she’s been ignored by those relatives her entire life.

President Pence ascended to the presidency after the downfall of Trump, retaining only one cabinet secretary, Ben Carson, the Secretary for Housing and Urban Development. The rest of Trump’s cabinet and advisors, all of whom had been fired, quit their posts, or had been charged or convicted of various crimes, had fallen by the wayside. Pence retained Carson, mostly because, as insiders noted, “he didn’t care less about housing or urban development.” Since being soundly beaten in the election, President Pence has taken to swearing like a trooper in every sentence. Insiders have added, “he’s been catching up after a lifetime of not swearing.”

Secretary Carson, bearing a reputation for sleeping his way through everything, has been diagnosed with a rare condition. Van Winkle Syndrome is a benign illness, having no particular ill effect on the human body aside from making those afflicted with it perpetually sleepy. Carson has been known to fall asleep during speeches on a regular basis, and holds the Guinness World Record for deepest and longest sleeping patterns. President Pence, rather than replace the Secretary with someone who can stay awake more than twenty minutes at a time, was content to let the work of the department be done by those working beneath Carson. Thus it was that Secretary Carson turned out to be, aside from Pence himself, the last of the Trump administration standing. Or lying down, in his case, soundly snoozing.

Bethany McCade, a spokesperson for the Department of Housing and Urban Development, confirmed that the transition between Secretaries is now underway. “Secretary Carson has been sleeping at home since July,” she explained. “Staff had been busy with the transition in recent weeks, packing boxes and handling the incoming administration’s beginnings. Yesterday that involved a visit to the Secretary to, well… retrieve his office keys and drop off his personal belongings.”

The visit required waking Carson, who still had the keys in his pockets. Aides woke him up, finding him understandably disoriented after such a long sleep, asking if President Trump needed anything. Informed that the former president was long since out of office, Carson seemed stunned, asking, “how long was I napping?”

Carson made one final visit to the offices he spent most of his time sleeping away from. Coming out of the building and heading to his waiting car, he was met by reporters, who asked how it felt being the last of the Trump era cabinet still serving. “Well, you know…..” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes, as if drifting off again. His eyes opened again and he continued. “It seems to me….” Again, he closed his eyes, and was silent for a time. Once more, his eyes opened. “In the greater scheme of….” Another pause. More closing of the eyes. Followed by his eyes opening again. “You’ll have to…. forgive me…” And then again he closed his eyes for a time and dipped his head. At last he opened his eyes and looked up. “What were we talking about?”

Shortly thereafter, Secretary Carson was off, saying he had to catch up on his sleep. Pundits have noted that perhaps the only reason he made it to the end of the Trump-Pence era was that he was asleep too often to commit acts of fraud, extortion, or corruption like his peers. Sleep specialists are hoping they might be able to map the Secretary’s brain to understand why he sleeps as much as he does, in hopes of shedding further light on Van Winkle Syndrome.

For the last word, we leave it to the outgoing president, preparing for today’s inauguration. Asked for comment last evening when returning to the White House from Camp David for the last time, President Pence glared at reporters, snarling, bitterness and loathing in his tone.

“Go **** yourselves!”

Musings Of A Talk Show Candidate

Television Star And Mogul Ponders Political Run; Experts Sigh And Wonder If Society Can Learn

Washington, DC (AP) While the Trump presidency continues to fumble its way from disaster to disaster in recent days- the ‘stable genius’ debacle, the racial slurs towards African nations and Haiti, the lack of a response to the false alarm in Hawaii- other names are starting to emerge for the 2020 election. The Golden Globes seemed to provide a launching pad for one of those names. Oprah Winfrey, the former television talk show host, production company mogul, and billionaire based mostly on branding herself, delivered a stirring speech to the audience that left some wondering why she shouldn’t run for office.

“President Oprah. Has a nice ring to it,” Stedman Graham, Winfrey’s longtime partner mused when asked. “That would make me the First Dude, right? Anyway, she’s certainly a whole lot more qualified than the guy who’s in there now, not to mention far more pleasant and empathetic, but let’s face it, anyone would be compared to him. Should it matter that she’s never held political office? Of course not. In the end, it’s her decision, so just wait and see.”

Winfrey herself, approached at a gala in New York, was cryptic as to her intentions. “It’s a nice idea. And sure, I would absolutely do a better job than Trump. I’ll concede, that’s a pretty low bar to step over. I’ve had guests on the Oprah show who you’d think of as the most pitiful people you can imagine, and they’d do better than Trump. Look, it’s a decision that takes time to make, that should be thoroughly considered. I mean, do I want to spend the rest of my life being followed around by the Secret Service? Do I want to go into Congress to do the State Of The Union and call out, ‘You get an amendment! And you get an amendment! Everyone gets a constitutional amendment!’ I haven’t decided that yet.”

The fact that she’s never held office concerns many. “Has this country not learned anything from electing Trump?” presidential historian Wallace Wentworth asked this reporter from his offices at Yale. “Television personality. No political experience. Surrounded by sycophants and yes-men. Has never learned about pragmatism in the political office. Oh, sure, she’s much more polite than the Orange Neanderthal, but that doesn’t qualify her to be President. We need experience in that job, not narcissistic people who have never had to compromise and have never before served in a public office. That includes both sides of the political aisle.”

“Hey!” Trump snarled while reporters asked him about the professor’s remarks. The chief executive was in the midst of yet another go at the golf course at Mar-a-Lago rather than doing his job in Washington. “I am not orange! And what the **** is a Neanderwarhol? Ivanka! Go find a dictionary for Big Daddy!” He paused, looked at the media, and added, “Don’t you go quoting me on that! Fake news! Unfair!”

“Yes, she understands empathy,” Princeton sociologist Hannah Prentice conceded when asked at her office. “Yes, she has that feel-good sensibility that just makes people think she’s their friend. But realistically speaking, those are qualities better suited in a preacher, not a president. Those are two very different jobs.”

Which, admittedly, has never stopped Mike Huckabee, the minister turned politician, from making runs at the Republican nomination in the past. In fact, Huckabee, also the father of the current White House press secretary, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, is musing having another go at the nomination in 2020. “Let’s face it, that half-wit dumbass mother****er is going to implode any day now, and when that happens, there’ll be plenty of space for good ol’ Mike Huckabee to come on in for the next election as the GOP’s candidate of reason and compassion and creationism and hellfire and brimstone and women knowin’ their place is in the kitchen and persecutin’ the gays and… wait a minute, you’re not a reporter, are you? Dammit, don’t quote me on anything I just said, or I swear to God, I will end you!”

On a different note, the individual responsible for the false alarm of incoming ballistic missiles into Hawaii a few days ago has been identified. Answering only to Kevin, the small yellow creature has been identified as a Minion. When reached at his employer’s lair, the Minion said something garbled that has been translated to “oops.” Authorities have decided not to pursue the matter.

Revenge List Of A Narcissist

Okay, so before the election I wrote a post that shall go forever unpublished (Norma and a few other people have seen it), featuring Trump's epic temper tantrum when he lost. Obviously for some inexplicable reason, he didn't lose. After the election, well, let's just say I wrote a rant for myself, basically venting, which will also go unpublished. It contained a lot of curse words and would have ended up losing me at least a couple of readers.

I've written this lately though. It's Trump's revenge list. The first part of everyone he wants to get even with. Incidentally, writing in his voice still makes me nauseous. I'll try not to say I told you so when the time comes.

Okay, right? So I won, right? Won it fair and square and cheated like a bastard the whole time, right? Now it’s time to settle some scores, get even with a few people. Nothing too big. Just millions and millions of people. Losers, all of them. Losers! Big fat losers! So that’s what this is. This is my revenge list. The people I’m going to start gettin’ even with startin’ on day one of the Trump Presidency, which, by the way, is going to be the greatest, the most stupendous, the most amazing, the best ever presidency you ever saw, right? Lincoln? Washington? The Roosevelts? All losers compared to me. Because I’m the best, the greatest, the most stellar president ever. And I’ve got really big hands.

Where was I? Oh, right. My revenge list. And it’s gonna be great. All these people who for one reason or another ended up on this list? They’re gonna pay. They’re gonna pay big time. And this revenge list is gonna be the biggest and the best revenge list of all time. Richard Nixon has nothin’ on me!

By the way, it’s probably a good idea not to let anyone see this list. Part 1 of 483 716, in fact. It's a big list. Yuuuuuuuuuge!

So where do we begin? Well, in no particular order...

Crooked Hillary. Lock her up! Lock her up!

The Squirrel Faction

Obama and Michelle

Rosie O’Donnell. What a disgusting pig, let me tell you...

The Pope

Jon Stewart

Ellen De Generes

Zombie plot bunnies

Anyone around the world who ever thought it was a good idea to criticize my buddy Vladimir

Tim Russert. Sure, he’s dead, but I want that know it all no-nonsense punk punished anyway

Dogs and cats. Buncha fleabags, the lot of them

Alec Baldwin. Nobody mocks me and gets away with it.

Mexico. They’re bringing drugs, they’re bringin’ crime, they’re rapists...

All those women who dared to accuse me of gropin’ them. Hey, I can grope anyone I want! I’m President Donald Trump! Soon to be Exalted Grand Emperor Donald!

Megyn Kelly. Bleedin’ outta her whatever...

Van Jones

John Oliver

The Queen

The blacks

Stephen Colbert

Angela Merkel

China

Vampires

The Jedi

Larry Willmore

Luxembourg. They know the reason why.

CNN, NBC, the New York Times, and the whole lamestream media that refuses to bow down to everything I say and hail me as their lord and master. I’m really gonna get even with those losers, believe me folks. Matter of fact, when I get my way, I’m gonna just have Trump News, the Enquirer, and Breitbart as the only legal news outlets.

Those ex-wives of mine. Soon to be followed by the current one, just as quick as I can find another bimbo from eastern Europe to be the next trophy wife

Tree huggin’ environmentalists

Hulk Hogan and Ric Flair

The Bush family

Trevor Noah

The ACLU

Muslims

Bill Nye the Science Guy. That De Grasse Tyson guy too. We can’t have reasonable well informed experts tellin’ anyone the truth, after all.

Lyin’ Ted. I mean, seriously, folks, the man’s father practically killed JFK, I read it in the Enquirer, and that’s the only paper that matters to me, believe me, believe me...

Bill Maher

The Illuminati

Canada

The UN

PBS

Ivanka

Ferris Bueller. Just because. Smart aleck punk, who’s he think he is?

That therapist who once told me I’m a class A narcissistic sociopath with a terminal self love complex. Hey! I don’t need to jerk off! I’ve got people who’ll jerk me off on command!

That heavy metal drummer. Costs me thousands of votes and puts supporters of mine in jail after beatin’ them up, and he thinks he can get away with it?

While we’re at it, we’re gonna just change the way music’s heard. All Ted Nugent, all the time. Nothin’ else. If Ted’s good for me, he’s good for everyone. Everybody else can go **** themselves. There’s not gonna be any Beyonce serenadin’ the Obamas ever again.

Bruce Springsteen. Born in the U.S.A. my ass. He was born in Canada! He’s got worthless communist socialist maple syrup guzzlin’ tree hugger written all over him! I demand to see the birth certificate! Lock him up! Lock him up!

Every single person who ever mocked my great outstanding hair and my hands. My hair is real and my hands are yuuuuuuuuuuuuuge! Just as yuuuuuuuuuuuuuge as my Trump schlong!

My eighth grade teacher, Mr. Reading, who gave me detention for calling him an asshole. I’m really gonna get even with him, believe me, folks...

Grumpy Cat. Nobody outfrowns me!

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.”

The Extra Short Orange Running Mate

Washed Up Reality Television Star Expresses Ambitions While Being Oblivious To Reality

New York (AP) With the Democratic National Convention getting started this week, and Hillary Clinton often going on and on about what she calls “her precious”, all eyes are on Philadelphia, where the party will be giving the former Secretary of State what she has always wanted- the nomination for the presidency and her ticket to power. There has been much speculation as to who Clinton would be designating as her Vice President. Some more cynical observers have noted that the Vice President would be far more important than usual given the inevitable impeachment of President Clinton (the Second).

Numerous Democrats have been jockeying for the position, while party operatives have been trying to push other names. Elizabeth Warren has been set aside, given concerns by the candidate that she would be constantly upstaged by “someone more likable than me.” Bernie Sanders, who gave Hillary a run for her money throughout the campaign before finally throwing in the towel, has been set aside as a possible contender, given the fact that the two dislike each other. Ultimately the task- and perhaps the future presidency- was given to Senator Tim Kaine of Virginia.

It wasn’t just Democrats trying to get the job. Last week, in the midst of the Republican convention, members of the press were summoned to a press conference in New York by an enigmatic invitation alluding to the Democratic Vice Presidency. Gathered together in a hall at the Javits Center, reporters speculated as to who might be trying to make their own bid at the proverbial second chair. Might Joe Biden be making a second go at the job? Or even odder, did Bill Clinton himself want the job? 

Finally a spokesperson came out on stage, calling for the attention of the assembled media.  “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming,” the woman said as she stepped up to the podium. “Without further ado, well, here she is. She really needs no introduction, because everyone knows her and loves her.”

The spokesperson stepped aside. Music started to blare- some sort of house music or hip hop; this reporter really can’t tell the difference. And out onto the stage walked a short woman with big hair and orange tanned skin. Reporters gasped, rolled their eyes, and found themselves wondering how a washed up reality show star from Jersey Shore could have managed to assemble them all together under false pretenses.

She was Nicole Polizzi, otherwise known to the world as Snooki.

Waving to the crowd, totally oblivious to the eye rolling, sighs of dismay, and shaking of heads, Snooki strode up to the podium, only to find that she couldn’t see over the top. “Damn it!” she blurted out, reaching up and managing to grab the mike. “Who the **** didn’t put a step stool here like I asked?”

Snooki came out from behind the podium, glared at her spokesperson, who stood at least a foot taller than her, and then faced the media, pasting on her vacant grin with the dimwitted expression in her eyes. “Hey there!” she called out, waving again. “Thanks for coming!”

“Are you just wasting our time?” one reporter inquired of her.

Snooki looked confused. “Why do people keep asking me that?”

“Because it’s a pretty reasonable assumption,” this reporter said.

“Look, no, no ****ing way,” she assured the reporters. “Am I the sort of person who’d waste your time? No, of course not. I mean, what am I, a Kardashian?” This reporter rolled his eyes, wondering what would be more tedious and annoying, sitting through this or sitting through a drunken ramble by one of the Kardashians. “By the way, are we broadcasting live?”

“No, we’re not,” one of the television reporters replied for all of her colleagues, looking at her watch, no doubt wondering, as this reporter was, how long she might have to put up with this sort of nonsense from a washed up MTV star.

“Well you’ll wish you were,” Snooki promised. “Because I’m here to announce my candidacy for the Vice President of the United States, on the Democratic ticket with my BFF Hillary.”

Reporters stifled laughter. One asked, “BFF? Have you ever actually met her?”

Snooki shrugged. “No, but what the **** difference does that make anyway?”

This reporter spoke up. “First of all, under the rules, a Presidential candidate and their team select a Vice Presidential candidate. A person doesn’t just come out of nowhere and say they’re going to name drop themselves as a Vice Presidential candidate. Second, you’re not known for politics. You’re known for a multitude of bad reality shows on a network that used to run music videos, for getting drunk and in trouble, and, to put it mildly, for being an idiot.”

“Hey, guido, don’t you call me names,” Snooki replied.

“Guido?” this reporter challenged the idiot.

“That’s what I call everybody. Guido, wop, douchebag, whatever slang term comes to mind,” Snooki explained. “That doesn’t matter. What matters is that I can bring the young beach going Jersey vote to Hillary for the big win in November. All she has to do is say pretty please, Snooki, and promise to let me be president one day out of every week. ‘Cause I’d like to send the Navy SEALS to bust up the Situation’s ass.” She was grinning with maniacal glee, in a way that suggested she wasn’t quite playing with a full deck.

“You can’t be serious,” another reporter objected.

“Of course I am,” Snooki declared. “And you know what else I can do as Vice President. Say Hillary needs Bill outta her hair? I can keep the First Dude distracted. Pretty much the same way Monica kept him distracted. I really am the perfect choice for the job. I’ve got attitude, street smarts, a great rep with all the hip people, and I’ve got orange skin. I can be the anti-Trump. Anyway, that’s my announcement. Hillary, have your people call my people, and we’ll do lunch!”

She left the stage, and reporters found themselves snickering, sighing, shaking their heads, and wondering if they’d woken up in some pocket universe where reality had gone haywire. Of course, with the other party fielding a candidate who’d spent his own years in reality television, the world had already gone haywire long before now.

The last word goes to an unnamed member of the Clinton campaign, a distinguished older fellow using the codename El Cigaro. He laughed off the offer by Snooki. “You know, as much as I’d enjoy being distracted... I mean, as much as Bill would enjoy being distracted by Snooki in that fashion, her bein’ the Vice Presidential candidate? It just isn’t gonna happen. Hillary, or the ol’ ball and chain as I like to call her, shook her head, said something like, Hell no, and then started muttering, my precious, my precious, it’s mine, they stoles it froms us. You know, between you and me and Monica, she might be gettin’ a little bit obsessive about the whole thing. Don’t tell her I said that, okay? She’s got me by the short hairs.”