All Entries in the "Lifestyles at Risk" Category
Sing Along With Mitch*
DISENGAGEMENT FROM A QUESTIONABLE MILITARY COMMITMENT?
LEAVING TOWN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT IS ONE APPROACH.
To the tune of Bringing in the Sheaves
Selling out the Kurds
Sowing in the Mideast, sowing seeds of evil
Sowing in the moonlight shadows till the smoky end.
Waiting for the militants, and the time of weeping
We shall screw our allies, selling out the Kurds.
Refrain:
Selling out the Kurds, selling out the Kurds
Who shall watch Damascus ? Selling out the Kurds.
Selling out the Kurds, selling out he Kurds
Our one true friend in Syria, selling out the Kurds.
Sowing in the caliph, sowing in sand
Fools fear not ISIS, al Qaeda, or resurgent Taliban
By and by the struggle, the front line is absurd.
We shall be back stabbers, selling out the Kurds.
Going forth by reaping, sowing for the mullah
A promise made by dervish, our spirit’s broken words.
When the dead are buried no one bids us welcome
We shall come dishonored, selling out the Kurds.
Refrain
*Reference to Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell, and his kowtowing.
2nd reference to Mitch Miller and the Boys a choral-chorus popular in the 50s
Border Wall To Feature Trump Hotel
In what might be the most blatant example of a conflict of interest, President Trump today tweeted that he would build the newest Trump Hotel within his proposed border wall. The final drawings for the 400-room inn have been completed and, according to family members “will thrill pilgrims and sightseers alike with quasi-jaded magnificence and bulging veins of bad taste throughout.”
The exact spot of the hotel was not pinpointed but rumors suggest that Texas, the only solid red state along the Mexican border, has the inside track.
As most readers already know the controversial Trump-Mex Wall blueprint calls for strategic convenience stores, discount houses, an industrial laundry, beauty parlors, full service gasoline, and many fast food entities. According to Wake Up Donald FOX News analysts now running the White House, it may be the first of many.
“It will be fantastic,” tweeted what is left of Trump. “It will create millions of jobs. It will solve our immigration problems for decades. It will stretch from sea to shining sea.*”
Democrats rejected these facts saying that Trump’s history of bankruptcies and failure to pay sub-contractors is the bugaboo here. Reminding readers that Trump was born rich and did not create his own fortune they warn of a major fiasco in the Southwest.
These pretty-haired parrots turned power-loving hawks described a multi-star, lavish hotel amid a concrete deterrent brightly painted with lots of neon and free parking. Most of the retail outlets would be open 24 hours.
“We have commitments from the big box giants,” said Goldy Kushner, producer-developer of what many are calling a structural marvel. “Soon our walled strip mall will look like every small town and suburb in America.”
The problem is that the wall has yet to be financed or built. Congress won’t pay for it. Mexico won’t pay for it. Troops continue to patrol the stretch of land from the Pacific to the Mississippi. Persons seeking asylum continue to wait. Desperate refugees still try to sneak across. A woman sells tamales in the parking lot. A man hawks sunglasses on the bridge.
Tear gas and incompetence with a quick jutting look over the shoulder to see if a weak-minded base is paying attention.
Proponents say the economy will benefit once order has been reestablished. The flagship hotel is expected to bring in millions with a soft opening in March. Well-heeled guests include former White House staffers, Russian mobsters, sycophant Republicans, Saudi RVers and members of the extended family. Grandstands to accommodate another 7 million supporters will be constructed pool side.
“A line of retailers on Mexican side will feature US made goods while consumers on the US side could purchase all sorts of Mexican goods with no tariffs or worries about exchange rates,” said one anxious shopper. “They all accept credit cads.”
Right smack in the middle of everything, somewhere in southern New Mexico, a Trump Hotel will miraculously rise on the backs of former wetbacks. Amid the spray-painted art and thecolorado funny paperfamiliar slogans the Five-Star monstrosity will reign over the land.
“We’re not sure who will want to stay there,” said an unidentified White House chief of staff. “It won’t be the cruise set or the beach lovers and it certainly won’t be the immigrants.”
In a related development Mouse Speaker Nancy Pelosi is making good on an election promise to visit every American household by Valentine’s Day.
“Let’s all go where the big bears live,” said Pelosi who has popped in on almost 50 families since November.
Most liberals within the party did not comprehend the bruin reference nor do they approve of the house calls that they say are far too personal and set a bad precedence with voters.
– Pepper Salte
*Is from sea to shining sea is a calculated misuse of Manifest Destiny jingoism here? The proposed wall would stretch from sea to shining gulf but that doesn’t rhyme and won’t get the attention of a barely literate base bent on sound bytes and infantile slogans. If the telltale statement was based on geographical ignorance maybe someone should have given this Trump entity a map of the United States for Christmas instead of another red tie.
Bass boat fleet arrives at North Pole
The first frozen bass boat arrived at Santa’s Workshop this morning. The craft, one of 15 purchased in November is specially designed to make use of an overabundance of elf muscle available at the North Pole.
Bass boat arrives at North Pole
But primarily it is a sign of the times due to great polar melting and the disappearance of icebergs, fish and mammal habitat. The bruised topography has dictated a new approach to survival in the Far North. What used to be massive chunks of ice is now frigid water, ever rising, ever-consuming. Climate change does not support sleigh travel even if the sleigh can fly.
“We got tired of all the deniers, the greed and the ignorance associated with the man-made crisis,” said Santa Claus, who, with the help of twenty elves guided the boat into a protected slip out of the wind. “Fossil fuels are responsible for the demise of our lifestyle and yet they are drilling just over the horizon.”
One elf chimed in: We’ve got more water than ice and snow – sleighs can’t cut it and reindeer don’t swim well. We’ll still use reindeer to haul our new boats over what snowy terrain remains. Citing a “little known fact” the elf said that it always took more than one sleigh to make the rounds on Christmas Eve.
“Now we will have enough bass boats to deliver presents to every kid on the planet, at least while we still have a planet,” he bragged.
News that the loyal elf faction here would be expected to take to the ores did not go down well. Many are not comfortable with the plight of the galley slave even for one night in December.
Santa during off-season. “Coal in their stockings hasn’t worked.“
“It starts with one night then before we know it we’re in chains rowing through glaciers and ice mountains whenever Santa wants to go on a road trip or has business in Canada,” squawked another puffed up elf.
The remainder of the fleet is slated to arrive this week and undergo major modification before the Yuletide begins. Each of the larger boats is named for one of the eight reindeer with other smaller vessels tagged for North Pol landmarks and Santas immediate family.
“If the destruction caused by human generated climate change is not addressed today we will need every boat and more to make it to dry land again,” said a visibly exhausted Santa. “Coal in their stockings hasn’t worked. Future believers may be writing me letters c/o Mount McKinley, Las Vegas or Mars.”
For a related piece turn to What to buy for a polar bear? in Lifestyles On Ice
Trump Clobbers Lame Duck With Nine Iron
(Mar de Mars) President for now Donald Trump used a nine-iron on a bothersome lame duck Friday on the 16th hole at his golf corpse here. The duck reportedly laughed at his backswing and the Commander in Chief flew into action repeatedly whacking the quacking bird with his golf club.
It was not clear if the injured duck was of the Peking variety.
Trump, as has been the case recently, played alone with even the regular Republican sycophants avoiding him. Several challenging holes were restricted due to a pending government shutdown that sent greens keepers home without pay.
Angry onlookers rescued the lame duck and brought it to a local veterinarian’s office where it is expected to survive the impulsive attack. One fed-up golfer even cornered the President and lectured him on evangelistic climate change while describing the daily routine life in a federal prison cell.
That Huckabee woman, acting as pending press secretary said the President had every right to strike the duck that was no doubt a feathered immigrant. They said that the mallard pest deserved what he got and since the animal was no longer protected under the Endangered Species Act it was fair game.
“Our leader is no pigeon. He’s tough to the bone,” she stressed. “He stands up to protect America from these kind of terrorist episodes.”
One Trump critic suggested that Trump should be tougher on Russians, White Supremacists, Saudis, bloodthirsty dictators and his immediate family.
A local newspaper defended Trump a la tongue-in-cheek:
“It takes a brave man to do what our President did while under duress,” said an editorial in The Capitol City Poultry Examiner. “His courage is without comparison.”
The Lame Duck along with the Squatting Heifer, the Flint Water Muskrat, the Palomino Kingfisher and most of the fish in both oceans were dropped from the protected status by Trump during his first few hours in office. This action raised eyebrows and started people chatting about unnatural science and the priorities of a self-consuming business agenda.
Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi was perhaps the harshest critic saying “the unprovoked assault on a duck made Trump look like the turkey that he has become.”
After sinking a four-foot putt on number 18 Trump said he didn’t care what the majority of Americans thought of him so long as his base continued to “slurp the pabulum”.
The President will attend a January White Sale rally in West Palm Beach before returning to Washington on Friday.
Christmas Planned Again for 2019
(New York) With the final approval of federal and state funding, it appears that consumers will again experience the holiday season next year. As recently as one week ago, with the private sector dragging knuckles on promises to match the assets accrued from a system of floating bonds, things looked bleak.
Supporters of Christmas have been accused of using ancient guilt techniques and playing into fears of impending social disorder in the attempt to raise consciousness and, in turn, money toward the goal. They say that since the holiday has been around so long, it would only follow that it should be preserved both from a religious and a secular approach.
“Without the continued assistance of our state and federal bureaucracies, Christmas would be relegated to the status of say, Halloween or Valentine’s Day, at least from an economic viewpoint,” said Melvin Toole, founder and treasurer of Christmas ‘20. “We fully realize that these holidays are important but that economically speaking Christmas consistently kicks butt.”
Toole explained that year after year more money is circulated during the holiday season than on all the other holidays combined.
“Yes, flowers and candy generate substantial dollars, but that figure,” he smiled, “does not even come close to the money spent on worthless junk during the Yuletide. In addition, people will go without fireworks or cranberry sauce but then Christmas rolls around and the same people adopt an oh what the hell attitude and spend money they may not have.”
Toole thanked the credit card companies, the elevator Christmas carol pushers, the lumber industry, the makers of an assortment of pine sprays, the weather, the replacement Christmas light bulb concerns, Charles Schultz, the wrapping paper giants, the clever card writers union, Bing Crosby and Belle Toole, his wife of 133 years, for his recent ascension to greatness in the field of Christmas marketing concepts.
Although the exact amount of money needed to pull off Christmas next year has not been disclosed, conjecture has it that it is a whole lot more than was needed for Christmas 2018.
“It’s just more expensive to pull off than it was back in the Fifties,” harped Toole. “Why, insurance on Santa’s sleigh, reindeer rights, elf unions and the type of presents coveted by little kids put the fiscal motion of the celebration into outer space. Do people really think that just because Christmas is sacred that it can side-step reality? It’s a business, son. Nothing more and nothing less, at least from our perspective,” he frowned.
Toole added that Christmas ’19 would kick off on or about Thanksgiving Weekend and run through December, culminating on December 25, with the following week dedicated to getting over the entire experience in time for a New Year’s celebration.
“We hope to hold New Year’s on January 1 again so as to be in compliance with all the calendars printed in August,” he said.
– Al Kahall
Nisei Christmas
“…Men speak of them well or ill; they themselves are silent.”
– Stephen Vincent Benet, Ode to Walt Whitman
One Christmas near Granada, Colorado in 1942 two soldiers sat in a dark cafe watching the snow come down. Snow was not a familiar thing to these two who would be shipping out for Italy in a few days. There was no visible sun in the sky and the windows of the cafe looked as if they hadn’t been washed since the First World War concluded some 25 years ago. One of the soldiers, Private Thomas Okamoto, would go on to be one of the most decorated fighting men in the European Theater. The other, also decorated, would serve for two years in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team and see action at Salerno Bay, at Naples, at Cassino, and at Anzio. His name was Kiyoshi Nakamura. He was killed by a German sniper near Saverne, France in November of 1944.
It was in late December of 1943, just north of Naples, that Nakamura met my uncle Clifford, and shared the following story.
We were staring out the window onto the soggy Colorado dirt street. Private Okamoto was talking about his uncle’s strawberry garden back in California. We were not afraid to go to war but we were afraid of what may happen to our families behind the barbed wire at Granada. A tall, thin rancher stumbled into the cafe, ordered coffee and sent a bone-chilling stare in our direction. It wasn’t a hostile look, more one of astonishment, of lassitude. He turned tiredly away from us and asked the walls and ceilings if we were spies.
Then, without warning, he approached our table. We thought he must be drunk.
“Looks like snow,” he said. “How long you been in?”
Private Okamoto answered him, followed by a crisp “sir”. He sat down.
“I’ve heard a lot of you pups were joining up,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to stare but you two are the first I’ve seen in uniform. Where they sending you?”
“North Africa, sir,” I answered, “for the time being. Then Europe.”
“You won’t see much snow in Sicily either. Where are you boys from?”
“Santa Ana, California, sir. We are only here to visit our families at Granada. They were moved here in October,” I answered. “We brought them Christmas presents.”
“My name is Walters, Frank Walters. I remember spending a cold, wet Christmas at Cambrai, in France in 1917. I was at Belleau Wood as well, and with the Brits at Chateau-Thierry after the Germans broke through in 1918. I survived. A lot of them didn’t.”
“My uncle Joe was killed in the Argonne Forest,” I said. “His father and mother had only moved to the California in 1894 and they were proud of their American son. They were presented his Silver Star.”
“And now our government is involved with another war with Germany…and this time with those bastards, the Japanese,” said Walters, catching himself. He looked at the floor.
“You got a lot of family interned at Granada?” he asked.
“Most of them,” I frowned. “The others, a cousin and Private Okamoto’s brother are in the army. They are Japanese-Americans, you know.”
“I know,” breathed Walters. “Good farmers. I don’t think they deserve what they’re getting. Somebody’s up to no good but the country’s in a panic.”
“After Pearl Harbor it’s not hard to believe,” said Okamoto.
Walters returned to his previous state, not saying anything for a few minutes, just staring out the window and then to the door as if expecting a visitor.
“How old are you boys?” he asked, returning to the present.
“I’m 19 and Kiyoshi is 20,” said Okamoto.
“The same age as my Tommy,” said Walters. “He was lost when the West Virginia went down at Pearl Harbor last December. War does not discriminate, heh boys?”
We sat there in shock. After three days visiting Granada and 14 weeks training to kill Germans and perhaps even Japanese we thought we’d reached a certain sense of numbness. Now we were sitting here with a World War I vet who had lost a son to the Imperial Navy, to young men his age who looked like us.
“My name is Tommy,” offered Okamoto, stumbling over his words in some attempt to ease the pain that everyone at the table was feeling by now.
“You’re all just children,” said Walters, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “We were children too and it’s another Christmas. Children with guns and tanks and planes. Germans and Japanese and English and French. Dead because of power hungry leaders who can’t get along, or are they dead because war is the natural order of rational animals? It’s insane,” he shook his head methodically from side to side. “They put your families in camps and yet you volunteer.”
“No matter how bad things seem we must retain our honor,” said Okamoto.
“Honor,” answered Walters, gathering his emotions. “You boys had better drop back a few notches on the honor and hold on to a little common sense when you get over there,” he said. The Germans are entrenched all the way up the peninsula. It’ll be no picnic.”
“We’re not afraid to die for our country,” said Okamoto.
Walters smiled an almost shell-shocked smile and changed the subject to the wine he had drunk and the women he had met in France during his war. He then took us totally off guard and asked us to write him a letter saying that it would get to him in Lamar without an address.
“Just send it to Frank Walters,” he said.
We told him we’d send him a postcard from Rome and asked him to watch out for our families if he could.
“I’ll do that,” he said, getting up and disappearing into the snowstorm.
– Kevin Haley
