BRITISH WRITER PENS THE BEST DESCRIPTION OF TRUMP I’VE EVER READ – A REBLOG

Just in case you think it’s only we lib-tard snowflakes think that guy is a total ass hat, I do believe that the rest of the world agrees with us. And why not?

The HOBBLEDEHOY


Someone on Quora asked “Why do some British people not like Donald Trump?” Nate White, an articulate and witty writer from England wrote the following response:
 
A few things spring to mind.
 
Trump lacks certain qualities which the British traditionally esteem.
For instance, he has no class, no charm, no coolness, no credibility, no compassion, no wit, no warmth, no wisdom, no subtlety, no sensitivity, no self-awareness, no humility, no honour and no grace – all qualities, funnily enough, with which his predecessor Mr. Obama was generously blessed.
So for us, the stark contrast does rather throw Trump’s limitations into embarrassingly sharp relief.
 
Plus, we like a laugh. And while Trump may be laughable, he has never once said anything wry, witty or even faintly amusing – not once, ever.
I don’t say that rhetorically, I mean it quite literally: not once, not ever. And that fact…

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TASTE AND FREEDOM – Marilyn Armstrong

I have personal taste that tends toward humor and wit and some things that I find funny aren’t really funny, but I find them hilarious. I tend to overvalue wit and cleverness and at least a hint of humor.

I like what I like and often write about movies and books I enjoy. I love it when I help someone discover books or a movie they might like.

I also don’t mind if you don’t like what I like.

The last Session

Some people talk about how they believe everyone is entitled to believe what they want … but I actually mean it. There are things — news and political things — that I feel are completely wrong and while I would never force you or try to force you to believe as I do, I reserve the right to not talk to you about beliefs I feel are wrong … or evil.

I do believe in right and wrong. I don’t believe in a particular God or gods, but I think the devil is lurking behind every closed door. In fact, I think his hoofprints are all over this world and a lot of people have sold their souls to him. I think most of our senators and certainly our so-called president have sold their souls to him. It’s the only way I can explain their behavior.

But as for taste? If you read serious books you couldn’t pay me to open, that’s okay. Just don’t try to force me to read it. If I like bizarre British science fiction and it goes right over your head? That’s okay. You aren’t required to love it just because I do. You don’t need to like the same television shows, movies, books, or poetry.

I don’t care if you are a Republican as long as you innoculate your children and don’t try to convert me.

The elephant in the room

Okay, that’s not true. I have trouble coping with anyone who thinks caging children is okay because they have brown skins and don’t speak English. My heart bleeds for those people and there is no way I can reconcile myself to people who don’t care and feel the value of everything can be reckoned using dollar signs.

I guess that’s where I draw the line — my line between good and evil.

MAD LIBS – Marilyn Armstrong

I remember when we used to buy these in paper books and sometimes, the results were absolutely hilarious. These are rather simpler, but hopefully also funny.

Here we are on Day 2 of the Mad Lib Daily Prompt.   Thanks to Ms. Haunted (Teresa) of The Haunted Wordsmith for hosting these!  I love ’em.

https://thehauntedwordsmith.wordpress.com/2018/08/02/blogging-mad-libs-2/

Name
Adjective
Verb x 6
Time span
Nouns (plural) x 4
Form of Transportation
Types of Animals x 3
Occupation
Snack food
Body part
Location
Pronoun
Noun


Name – Delores
Adjective – annoyed
Verb x 6 – wait, lurk, chatter, yell, complain, whine, yammer
Time span – one hour
Nouns (plural) x 4 – telephones, customer services, stupidity, headaches
Verb – yammered
Form of Transportation – feet
Verb – stumbling
Types of Animals x 3 – Scottie, Scottie, mutt
Occupation – holding while being told my business is important
Snack food – coffee
Body part -left ear
Location – the loveseat
Pronoun – that
Noun – pointless.


Original Story:

Name was so adjective to see the circus, it was the only thing she could verb about for the whole time span. She read stories of nouns that verb on the high wire, nouns that drove around in miniature forms of transportation, elephants that verb, and wild animals that jumped through nouns. The night of the show arrived and Name dressed up like an occupation with a huge smile painted on her face. Her family found their seats and after eating some snack food, devouring a rainbow snow cone, and verb her first cotton candy, Name promptly fell asleep with her body part on her dad’s lap. Name didn’t verb till the next morning but regaled everyone at the breakfast table with stories of animals that sang, noun artists that verb from treetop to treetop in the middle of location, and nouns that morphed into small animals that made everyone laugh. Name loved pronoun night at the circus.


My Story:

Delores was so annoyed to see the circus, it was the only thing she could wait about for the whole hour. She read stories of telephones that lurk on the high wire, customer services that drove around in miniature feet, elephants that chatter, and wild Scotties and a mutt that jumped through stupidity. The night of the show arrived and Delores dressed up like a holding while being told my business is important with a huge smile painted on her face. Her family found their seats and after eating some coffee, devouring a rainbow snow cone, and complaining her first cotton candy, Delores promptly fell asleep with her ear on her dad’s lap. Delores didn’t whine till the next morning but regaled everyone at the breakfast table with stories of Scotties and a mutt that sang, headache artists that yammer from treetop to treetop in the middle of the loveseat, and Scotties and a mutt that morphed into small Scotties and a mutt that made everyone laugh. Delores loved that night at the circus.


Note: You needed some past tenses and a gerund or two, but it’s still funny.

THE WAY THAT THE WORLD GOES ROUND – JOHN PRINE

While I was growing up, my world was entirely full of classical, baroque, and other “serious” music. I played piano, so that’s what I played. Later, when I knew I’d never be a professional musician, I began to explore the world of pop. The Beatles were the first group that I truly loved. After “A Hard Days Night” (I loved the movie and the score), and “Rubber Soul,” I was a fan. Lifetime.

Eventually, I added many other individuals and groups, and more categories of music. John Prine was a latecomer to my “playlist,” but he remains a favorite. Better known as the writer than the singer, there are a couple of songs that I particularly enjoy and always cheer me when I’m blue. It’s pouring rain right now. I mean, it’s coming down in buckets with thunder rumbling in the background. A good day for music. A bad one for any other plans we might have had.

Not everyone has heard of John Prine, but he wrote a lot of songs that other people sang. He sang them himself on various recordings, most of which I owned on vinyl. Now, many of them are out on CD, so grab them if you can, before they disappear. John Prine sings about life. He always had a sense of humor, too. He wrote great, witty lyrics, and singable melodies. What more do you need? Oh, how about some wit and humor? That works, too.

A CONGLOMERATION OF CONUNDRUMS

What animal walks on all fours in the morning, two in the afternoon and three in the evening? Man, since he crawls as a child then walks and uses a cane when he gets older.

No sooner spoken than broken. What is it? Silence.

I am weightless, but you can see me. Put me in a bucket, and I’ll make it lighter. What am I? A hole.

What is so fragile that when you say its name, you break it? Silence.

I have a tail, and I have a head, but I have no body. I am not a snake. What am I? A coin.

What falls, but does not break. What breaks, but does not fall? Night falls and day breaks.

You throw away the outside and cook the inside. Then you eat the outside and throw away the inside. What is it? An ear of corn.

I have holes in my top and bottom, my left and right, and in the middle. Yet I still hold water. What am I? A sponge.

What can run, but never walks
Has a mouth but never talks,
Has a head but never weeps,
Has a bed but never sleeps?

A river.

I never was, am always to be,
No one ever saw me, nor ever will,
And yet I am the confidence of all
To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball.
What am I?

Tomorrow.

CONUNDRUM definition meaning

I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air. What am I? Smoke.

Pronounced as one letter and written with three.
Two letters there are, but two only in me.
I’m double, I’m single,
I’m black, blue, and gray.
I’m read from both ends,
Yet the same either way.
What am I?

An eye.


The final conundrum: How can we get ourselves into this mess?

Answer: I’ll let you know if I ever figure it out. Or, if you get there first, call me. I’ll be waiting!


CONUNDRUM | THE DAILY POST

Evil Squirrel’s Nest Comic #136 – 12/4/14

I was overcome with the need to reblog this post. I could not help myself. I was overwhelmed. But I love it too much to control myself.

Evil Squirrel's Nest

comic120414

Only 7 bloggers have taken me up on my artwork/holiday card offer I made in yesterday’s elf post!  That means there’s still 13 spots left if anyone is interested, or just happened to miss the announcement at the bottom of the post.  Don’t be shy!  Adopt a hand-drawn critter today!

Of the magnificent seven who have already claimed their prize, I need mailing info still for Easy, Marilyn and Draliman.  My email address is in the post!

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YOU MIGHT AS WELL LAUGH

Oh, The Irony

For some of us, irony is just the way it goes. Life is one ironic incident after another. Just when you think you’ve finally got it together, it falls apart. The job that looked like a career maker comes with the boss from Hell and some vital organ fails. Oh well. You might as well laugh. There’s no percentage in tears.


Life in shreds? Out of work? Evicted? Hiding from the repo guy? Other half dump you? Meds not working? Bank threatening to foreclose? Don’t take it personally. It’s just  a little ironic humor by Life, Inc.

Disaster is life’s cute and funny way of pointing out how little control you have over your fate. Don’t cry. No one likes a cry-baby. Smile! That’s it! Go on. No suffering allowed. No one wants to hear your sad story … unless you turn it into a funny story! Then everyone wants to listen.

The first time my world went to pieces, I walked away from a dead marriage, gave everything to my ex and moved to another country. The joke was on me. I promptly married a guy so much worse I get dizzy thinking about it 30 years later. When that fell apart (though it lasted longer than it ought because I wouldn’t admit what a horrible mistake I’d made), I staggered — bloody, dazed, and penniless — back to the USA. When I stopped feeling as if I’d gone through a wood chipper, I married Garry which I should done in the first place, except he hadn’t asked. Minor detail.

All that seemingly pointless pain and suffering was not for nothing. Stories of hideous mistakes and horrendous outcomes are the stuff of terrific after-dinner conversation. A few drinks can transform them into hilarity. Misery fuels humor. It’s a fact. Misery, mistakes, and disasters are high comedy. Funny movies are not about people having fun. They’re about people in trouble, with everything going wrong, lives in ruins.

There’s a fine line between comedy and a tragedy. Mostly, it’s all about the ending. Tragedies end with piles of corpses. Comedies (usually) don’t. Otherwise, it’s mostly timing.

Funny stories weren’t funny when they happened. Later, with perspective, they’re funny. After I was told I had cancer in both breasts (they were having a two-for-one-special at Dana-Farber), I had them removed and replaced by silicon implants, but stopped short of adding fake nipples. Previous surgeries having left me with no naval, I now present myself as a space alien. You don’t believe me? It’s true.

And about those fake tits: I own tee shirts that say “Yes, they are FAKE. My real ones tried to kill me.” It’s a killer at parties, the high point of my cancer experience.

Fake breasts

Ironically — there’s that word again — a mere two years later, my heart needed a complete overhaul. The ultimate irony (but luckily, not the final one) because I’d been telling everyone my heart was the only organ that worked properly. Famous last words.

When life goes to Hell in the proverbial hand basket, a lot of people who were sort of friends eye you with suspicion. Is bad luck contagious? But they also look at you with a subtle whiff of satisfaction. They wouldn’t be so rude as to say it aloud, but they are overjoyed it happened to you, not them.

If you are a writer, out of the wreckage may emerge a book — or at least a Freshly Pressed badge from WordPress. It wasn’t for nothing after all.

Personal traumas are collateral damage in our Darwinian battle for survival. No one gets through life unscathed. Just, for some of us, it’s rather more scathing.

Mindful of future tragedy lurking down the road, prepare some clever repartee. You can give it a test drive at the next get-together with your successful pals. Something to look forward to.

As a bonus, you’ll truly appreciate the irony when your friends’ lives go to pieces.

No matter how awful things are, you will stop bleeding and screaming. Eventually. Depression will ebb. The crushing weight on your chest will be replaced by a permanent sense of panic which you will call “normal.”

It’s all in good fun, right?