Singing the Blues

Reality TV singing competitions suck. Pretty much always have, save for season one of “American Idol,” which I didn’t watch.

There seems to be an endless parade of contestants who want to subject themselves to this trash, and inflict their damage on us unsuspecting viewers. But, the reality is that for every Carrie Underwood, there’s at least a couple dozen Craig Wayne Boyds  who can’t even stay signed to a record label for longer than six months. But, here the contestants come, season after season, telling us that just GETTING ON THE SHOW will be their big break, giving them the ability to put food on their families or helping mom with her breast cancer bills.

We all know that’s a crock of shit. I can pretty much triple-guarantee that whoever wins the current season of “The Voice” or the final (thank ya, Jesus) one of “American Idol” will be moved to the loser/trash pile before we can even turn our televisions off.

I guess we’ll just have to go back to the next-best thing that passes for reality TV: Presidential debates.

At least those only happen every four years or so. Or is it three?

I’ve stopped caring and I’ve pretty much tuned out.

Back On The Clock

Those Wacky Women of Wasilla are at it again.

I’m speaking, of course, of Bristol Palin and her mother Sarah. They both weighed in with their massive brain power and seasoned reasoning on the issue of Ahmed and his homemade clock, which got him arrested and suspended from school for terrorizing the teachers and the Palins.

If those two “thoughts” on this whole matter don’t terrorize you enough, consider this: Sarah Palin could have been your VP back in ’08 and Bristol would have been the White House’s children’s ambassador for something. Those two things should keep you hiding under your fort tent made of blankets while waiting for the bomb to go off.

Fortunately, they’re both relegated to the dustbin of history. They have not realized that just yet, which is why they keep prairie-dogging their little heads out of the ground to grace us with their extremely well-thought-out ideas on how to make the country a better place. For them.

The rest of us need to shut up and support them or we’ll get the same treatment from them as Ahmed.

I’m shaking in my boots already.

Embrace The Crazy

As a lifelong Texan, I can attest to the fact that there are some seriously fucked up folks around this State we call Lone.

Of course, they’re in every state, but we seem to attract and keep more than our fair share in these parts. Let’s take the case of the teenager Ahmed, who brought a homemade clock to class and whose teacher thought it was a b-b-buh-bomb, who then called the police who quickly determined that Ahmed was a terrorist and arrested him, handcuffed him and carted him off school property.

There are many, many, many things one could say about this sordid tale, but I’ll just stay with the most obvious one for reasons of brevity.

How in the hell does a teacher and then the police feel even a tiny bit threatened by a clock, which may or may not even work for all I know?

I’ll tell you exactly how: these so-called adults have been in Texas far too long, probably going without sunblock, mosquito repellent, and adequate (mental, in this case) health care for far too long.

When you have our wonderful Governor deploying the Texas National Guard to keep an eye on federal troop training exercises to stop a government takeover,  a former Governor who toyed with the idea of seceding and an education system that will only allow the teachings of Jesus regarding abstinence, that is exactly how you wind up with a situation like this.

If it weren’t Texas, it would be funny to everybody else. To someone who calls this place home, it’s just  downright embarrassing.

Go ahead. Embrace the crazy. It’s the only way some of us are getting out of this with our sanity still in check.

People Who Just Won’t Go Away, Part 29k of Many

It’s hard out there for folks like me. Let’s give a quick rundown of those who have pissed me off in the past and just won’t stop.

First up: George Zimmer, founder of Men’s Wearhouse. He’s back with a new startup for tux rentals that will knock your socks off, people. He probably guarantees it, but you don’t really give a shit, do you?

Next: Michael Hinojosa, former Dallas schools administrator, is now the lone finalist for the job once again. One former PTA president says she’s “not excited about it” but he’s the best we can do at this time. That’s probably because nobody else wants to beat their head against the wall of lockers in every DISD building, save for Michael. There you have it, and there you have him. Again.

Lastly, George P. Bush, son of Jeb! and nephew to the other George and on and on and on. He’s now the Land Commissioner for Texas, a job which probably requires little critical thinking. It’s really just a vanity title, probably to be used as a stepping stone for bigger and better things. Chew on that for a minute. Anyway, “P” has been under fire for spending more time on Jeb!’s campaign than attending meetings or whatever they do for the vast lands of Texas. Alas, it’s going to be all right: P has “made up” all of his missed time, because it’s all posted on the Land Commission’s website for the world to see. Last I checked, if it’s on the internet, it must be true, so take that, haters!

I need to spend less time browsing the news. Maybe I’ll volunteer for Jeb!’s campaign.


What To Do?

What are we going to do about Kim Davis, y’all?

You know Kim. She’s the pioneer woman who married Jim Bob and had 19 kids on that t.v. show…no, wait. I’m getting my fundamentalist religions mixed up.

Kim Davis is the pioneer woman who was elected county clerk in Kentucky, then got a word from God that she was authorized by Him to break the law by not doing her fucking job. It really is that simple.

Then, some federal judge denied Kim her religious liberty by throwing her in jail over the Labor Day weekend (including Sunday, the Lord’s day) for not doing her fucking job.

The judge released her, supposedly on the condition that she do her fucking job, but her lawyers aren’t saying whether or not she will do her fucking job when she shows back up to pray and work next Monday. In fact, she might just fire all of her deputies who decided to do her fucking job for her and get back to following God’s law.

I suspect if something like that happens, the judge will be more than happy to deny Kim some more of her religious liberty. I have a better solution: just fine her for every marriage license she has denied since the Supremes ruled in favor of marriage equality.

That might get her attention.

Let us pray.

Grecians, Trump Airlines and Stewardesses

legsbabyWhat I’ve been doing this whole time.

So. Just what have I been doing while away, you ask? Not much, just listening to Yanni and pondering the Grecian debt crisis. Otherwise, see above.

Let’s jump right in then, no?

The fact that my second post on this revived blog will be about Donald Trump should surprise no one who knows me. Something tells me I will have many opportunities to bring him up as much as possible over the next few months or years, providing my brain doesn’t explode or Bobby Jindal crushes him in the polls, whichever comes first.

Anyway, Trump will be holding a rally for his yuuuuge support base on the deck of the USS Iowa next week. Some of us were wishing it was the SS Minnow, but that’s not the point. Trump will be speaking on the very important topic of national security. That was not a misprint. I know what you’re thinking: how can such a brilliant businessman with no military background give a competent speech on such a topic? A-ha! He has an answer for that: he always “felt” his schooling was like being in the military, even though it wasn’t a military school. I feel more assured than ever, don’t you? I’ve always “felt” many things in my life (with my senses and my brain), but that’s not one.

Suffice to say that Trump will not be landing on the deck of USS Iowa in a fighter jet, wearing a flight suit or draping a “Mission Accomplished” banner over his head. If he does any or all of those things, I swear on Hillary Clinton’s email server that I will buy you all a signed copy of Trump’s next book.

No, Donald doesn’t need a fighter jet since he owns Trump Airlines. Dollars to donuts he has a Latina stewardess serving up cocktails on that thing while making (non-NYC) minimum wage. Takers?

A few points to ponder about this post:

  1. The Greeks are not called Grecians. That was a George W. Bush malapropism. I have used it so many times, it almost comes naturally to me. Grecian comes from Grecian Formula, a hair product for men. It’s sold in Big Lots stores, right next to ‘Lectric Shave and Brut cologne.
  2. Trump doesn’t own his own airline. Just because his name is emblazoned on the side and he believes it doesn’t make it true. I’m not falling for that.
  3. Stewardesses are called flight attendants these days. Only people like Donald Trump still refer to them as stewardesses.