
“I wanna thank you for meeting with me in this super-secret high-level meeting in the White House, okay. I brought you here… I am really good at bringing people and stuff together, by the way… I brought you here so we could make the Marx Brothers great again, okay? We are going to make a new Marx Brothers’ movie. It’s going to be great… really tremendous.”
“Wotta you sayin’, boss? The Marx Brothers is dead. How you gonna make a movie with dead guys? You gonna dig ’em all up and do a Frankenstein number on ’em, or what?”
“No, no… We will play the roles ourselves. I’ll be Groucho, you know… the really smart one… the one with an amazing mind. I really am very smart you know. Everyone says so.”
“And who am I gonna play?”
“Elon, you get to be Chico. You know, the fast-talking Wop guy. You think of the greatest plans. They are really great, you know.”
“Okay, boss, I got one already.”
“Really? What is it?”

“I think we gotta do an executive order.”
“Executive order? What’s that?”
“It’s a order you give like Obama did, you know? You take a pen and phone and say something in writing that everybody’s gotta do, and then, because it’s an executive order and you signed your name to it, you gotta execute somebody.”
“Ooh! I like the sound of that. We’ll call the movie Horsefeather Soup. It’ll be tremendous. The most tremendous thing people have ever seen.”
“Yeah, and the executive order will say we are banning Mexicans that come from places like Panama, Honduras, and Guatemala. That kind of Mexican has to be sent back to where they came from. You know, just the ones where they might want to vote for Democrats. And we can say we are doing extreme vetting so we are keeping America safe from terrorists. And WOKE Mexicans.”
“Ooh! Yeah! Extreme vetting, rhymes with bed-wetting. Tremendous. But what if people say I’m being racist again?”
“We say we intend to protect Americans from those really bad people you keep talking about, you know? We’ll claim that nobody who’s innocent will get hurt. And the good thing is, the immigration people will just know that anybody who is a Mexican is a bad person. No matter where they’re from. We’ll get everybody that way.”
“Good one, Elon, I mean… Chico.”

In the Homeland Security camps after the executive order. (Possibly people waiting to be executed.)
“Wait a minute, boss, who do I get to be in this movie?”
“Hogsweat, you get to be Harpo, okay?”
“My name is Hegseth, boss.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, Heegsop.”
“HEGSETH!”
“Okay, Harpo doesn’t talk, so shut up, Hogsbreath! Here, take this bicycle horn and, when you go on George Stefenopolis’s show and he doesn’t let you talk either, just honk it at him. It will be really great.”
“And me, boss?”
“Oh, Vivek. I almost forgot about you. What’s the name of that other brother? Dumbo? You get to be that one.”
“Hey boss, we gotta get goin’ on this executive order crap. Somebody needs to get executed in the worst way.”
“Oh, yeah! The worst way to execute is the best way. I feel the need to tweet a truth about it. This new Marx Brothers’ movie will be the best, just the best. It will be so bestest that America will get tired of bestiness.”

Trump, Hegseth, and Elon ready for Woke Mexicans, and protesters.















































Morning Has Broken
Today is off to a miserable start. I heard on the radio that David Bowie has died. Ziggy Stardust… the Goblin King… The Man Who Fell to Earth… the Thin White Duke…is gone. And even though since high school in the 1970’s I have never been quite sure how I felt about his music, I wept. The man was a musical maker of lyrical poetry. He could make you feel really really terrible… but he always made you feel. And he made me depressed as he led me through the Labyrinth… but he also made me soar… on the wings of a barn owl. It was about facing the darkness and finding your way. Finding the way out. Singing the Little Drummer Boy with Bing Crosby, but not actually singing it… making peace on Earth instead. Sometimes things are just so weirdly beautiful it hurts.
I dropped my daughter off at her middle school, and then Jody Dean & the Morning Team played this on the radio.
I wept again. Darkness is my old friend… I have lived with and through depression after depression. My own… my wife’s… my children’s… And it is a miracle I have lived this long without succumbing to the Darkness. It took Robin Williams. It took Ernest Hemingway. But somehow, the Goblin King always goaded me onward, to find the answer at the end of the Labyrinth. “You… you have no power over me.” And then I am okay once again.
I captured the dawn once again this morning. Once again I failed to truly ensnare the subtle reds and pinks and purples that were actually there. But there it is, anyhow. The morning has broken. The blackbird has spoken. The morning is new.
My heart is still sore this morning. The dog didn’t help when she spilled the trash to get at the napkins with bacon grease on them. We may have a dog-skin rug as a doormat later today. But David Bowie left so many words and ideas behind to comfort me. Is he one of those “neon gods we made”? Of course he is. But as the owl flutters off in the closing credits, we can take comfort in the knowledge that no one is ever really gone. And we can always anticipate some… Serious Moonlight.
This is, of course, an old post revisited.
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Tagged as battling depression, bowie, David Bowie, depression, loss, love and life and laughter, music, News, photo Paffooney, rock