
Donald Trump is picking cabinet members worthy of Goldfinger.
Now that the Cubs have won the World Series and Donald Trump is the next President of the U.S. and the world has ended, I want to take my time mulling over the meaning of this title and this essay. I have to think it over carefully, because, after all, with the new leadership we have selected for ourselves (at least the only people whose votes really matter have selected) I will probably end up in prison or executed. It doesn’t really matter how it all turns out for me. If the Great Orange Face With Tiny Hands does away with Obamacare after everything he’s recently said to the contrary, I am doomed anyway because any health care I am going to need in the next decade I won’t be able to afford anyway. Dying is the only option I will be able to pay for. So, if they execute me, they will even be saving me that expense.

Mike Pence talks a lot about “religious freedom” when he proposes to take away LGBT rights.
I am not suggesting that Trump is like a Bond villain… Oh, wait! Yes I am. But unlike a Bond villain, when he talks about the evil he is going to do and how the hero is about to die an excruciatingly horrible death, he isn’t necessarily telling the truth, or even knows the truth. So we will not be able to pull an unlikely harrowing escape at the last second, because we won’t accurately know what to counter. He’ll tell us about the anti-Muslim piranhas in the water, but it will be the nuclear-proliferation lasers that will boil our heads off our torsos.

The Trumpinator monologues a lot on Twitter, but doesn’t mean it or didn’t say it when you quote it later.
So, one of the most important factors behind why the bad guys win in real life while Bond villains always get their comeuppance by the end of the movie has to do with manipulating the story. Telling the tale the way they want it told, even if it is a Limburger-cheese-smelling stinky-bad lie.

You can bet that whatever Putin is planning, it will be bad, but he is a KGB-trained spook, so you will not win even that bet.
This is only the first essay in a series of related essays I intend to write about the world situation as I see it. So there is the first bit of terrible news I have given you, independent of the bad news swirling around our brand new Cinnamon Hitler. I intend to inflict more things on you that you will probably not believe, but may give you a chuckle or two at how goofy and idiotic I can be as I try to explain the stinky-bad nature of reality in terms of my own paranoid delusions, hopes, and fears. I can’t help this criminal explaining-the-world thing I try to do in writing. You have to remember, I was once a middle school English teacher, which goes a long way towards explaining abnormal psychology in essay form.
























Lie la Lie
I suppose it is ironic that on Thanksgiving Day I am posting about lies. After all, I really am thankful for the lies in some very specific ways. Paul Simon’s song is the reason for the odd title and underscores the feeling I am trying to explain;
Yes, I am grateful that most of what the orange-faced man has said on the campaign trail has turned out to be lies. I thank the Lord that the great ball of cantaloupe-colored mouth-flatulence has indicated he might not actually pull out of the Paris Accords on climate change. That little item being a lie may save our entire planet and all life on Earth. I thank the Lord that the orangutan president has had second thoughts about prosecuting Hillary Clinton for crimes she didn’t actually commit.
I thank the Lord that the goal of repealing Obamacare is just a lie. My diabetes is grateful too. King Donald, seen in the photo above pitching snake oil and bananas to an innocent member of the American public, has strongly indicated he will keep all the good parts of Obamacare… and will basically just change the name to Trumpacare. Of course, he will be preserving high premiums and profits for the insurance industry as well.
I have a strong suspicion the wall is just a lie as well. In fact, the nature of President Cinnamon Hitler is such that if he is trying to keep alien secrets about Area 51 with the same talent for keeping secrets he displayed on the bus video and in his formation of a cabinet in his administrative transition, we may soon know the complete truth about Roswell.
But I’m sure you realize by now that all this is in the manner of lies and jests. In reality I am Paul Simon’s boxer;
Yes, I am beaten down by life. I have been lied to. I have been tricked. And if I only could, I would give that monkey such a punch! But we are all the boxer, all scarred. And we all together vastly outnumber the monkey’s minions. I may not live to see it, but it will always be a possibility, for as long as the fighter still remains. And I am thankful for that.
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Filed under aliens, angry rant, commentary, conspiracy theory, feeling sorry for myself, humor, lying, memes, politics, telling lies
Tagged as Donald Trump, lies, Obamacare, politics