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gemli is a trusted commenter Boston

There’s a lot the president is willing to give up, and it’s more than just one or two seasons of Celebrity Apprentice. He’s given up on the poor and middle class. He’s given up our standing in the world. He’s given up trying to find fresh adjectives for “good” and “bad.” He’s long ago given up on nuance, civility, common sense and humility.

(Well, that sort of rhymes, so maybe it’s worth
Trying to finish this comment in verthe–uh, verse:)

When diplomacy matters, you know that he’ll show up, and act like a child who refuses to grow up. He’ll lambaste The Times, and while he’s berating it, he’ll diss the fake news even as he’s creating it.

His big mouth is something I wish we could sew up. It might cost us plenty, but I’d put the dough up, ‘though his tax plan might make the economy blow up.

Obama’s fine legacy he’s sworn to dismantle, although to that man he can’t hold a candle. And if he runs out of people to pillory, he’s likely to turn his attention to Hillary.

As much as he dishes out hate and malaise, he can’t get enough of the vacuous praise. He hires exclusively people who suck up, and then fires them when they—what’s the word–screw up.

And so the strange man in the orange pompadour will dish out embarrassment, and then dish out more. Yet if we impeached him, a year or two hence–we might have to do it again with Mike Pence.

Totally hilarious!

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gemli is a trusted commenter Boston

With this president, every week is Ironic Failure Week. I’m sure that if he announced an upcoming energy conference the lights would go out in the middle of his rambling, self-aggrandizing screed. Then he’d claim that Thomas Edison called him afterwards to apologize for spoiling the greatest speech of all time.

The president deserves an award for every abject failure, because he’s pretty much a defective human being at the molecular level. But what about the ordinary folks who serve as apologists for fraud and deceit?

To recognize their contributions, I propose we have an Unscrupulous Liars Week. The first one would go to Sarah Huckabee Sanders. I thought Sean Spicer took the cake, but he always looked troubled when he lied to make the president’s insane, fraudulent or illegal activities look normal. Sanders apparently watched Spicer from the wings as he sputtered and withered in the glare, and said, “Send me in coach!”

It probably doesn’t hurt that her dad made a living lying to the clueless for money. It’s one of those acorn-tree sorts of things.

The Top Quark is said to be the shortest-lived elementary particle in the universe, but it takes second place to Anthony Scaramucci. He gets the Potty Mouth Award for his meteoric rise to fame, which is a tiny scale model of the president’s private commode. There’s a little figure of Reince Priebus at the bottom of the bowl, caught in mid-swirl.

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Take a look at this movie by Christine Rabette:
Merci! by Christine Rabette
Except there are no words, only laughter.
(Thank you Phyllis!)


Here it is, the first of March, and it came in like a …. Lion! A giant snow storm is in progress.

Right on schedule, but still a little late for the celebrators and workers in the snow. JimBob was complaining to me a couple weeks ago that the lack of snow was hurting his business and the businesses of a lot of others too, i.e. the snow plowers, roof cleaners, ski resorters, snow mobiler salespeople, etc. But why not try to make up for it now? There’s still the whole of March, 31 days of it. Of course it could warm up.

At least Olympia Snowe went out like a lamb the day before the big storm. But she is now causing a storm in the GOP which is good thing.

When was the last time March came in like a Lion? Using the almanac weather history finder, and going back year by year for Portland, Maine, for March 1, the first serious precipitation I found was 1.86 inches on March 1, 1999. Pretty wimpy of the first decade of the 21rst century, eh? Except for today!!

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Go do the masochism tango and watch the crazies spewing garbage over at Minds Erased’s This is what happens when drinking water isn’t filtered! The video gets into the middle of the crazies weekend love fest down in Washington D.C. Questions are asked of the crazies, but they can answer none of them. Like, Fascism, Communism, Smashism who cares, they’re all Obama to them.

But did I hear one woman say she wanted Medicare expanded? She no doubt thinks it’s not a government program. Ignorance in America runs rampant!

UPDATE: Frank Rich this morning doesn’t quite dismiss these kooks and their nutty hero Glenn Beck. They represent deep down some real frustrations for which there is some justification. At least that’s what Rich claims and I think I agree.

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Hey, this St. John’s Newfoundland weather is about like ours, isn’t it?

I gotta go.


Sarah Palin is being ripped to shreds by two NYT Op-Ed columnists, first, Gail Collins in Sarah’s Straight Talk yesterday, and today in Now, Sarah’s Folly by Maureen Dowd.

Reader’s comments are closed on Sarah’s Straight Talk, but the one with the most votes is #13 and reads as follows:

Palin’s incoherence and lack of concentration are her political strengths. The segment of the electorate to which she appeals does not value intellect or eloquence. In fact, these qualities are feared because they imply a lack of faith. A person who is well educated, thoughtful, and can answer questions directly, in complete sentences, is exactly what Palin’s supporters do not want.

Comments on Now, Sarah’s Folly are not closed yet, but the most popular one so far is #14 which reads as follows:

I believe it was F. Scott Fitzgerald who wrote, “When fascism comes to America, it will come wrapped in the flag carrying a cross…we will have fascism with a happy face.”

I can’t think of anyone who embodies that prophecy better than Good ‘Ol Sarah.

Finally, Debi has come up with some great quotes in her admittedly off-topic comment #3 to my previous post on the Bouncing Boltzmann Brain. Check her out!

What more could I add? 😀 ❓

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HEY! Let’s party with Gogol Bordello! It’s been quite a while! Start wearin’ purple for me NOW! GO GOGOL!

Start wearin purple!

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I found this fascinating video on the blog of Missy, and it’s a hum dinger and real pick me up. Watch this amazing dance group take off on “Do Re Mi” in the Central Station of Antwerp, Belgium, at rush hour. It electrifies and charms the place out of its gourd maybe even drawing a smile from the staid old station master announcer! Watch the expressions on the people’s faces. Totally awesome!


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This story took place 70 years ago today, March 25, 1939.

A boy of 10 asked his mother if he could stay up and listen to Tom Mix.
She said, “Well, OK, but you must go to bed right away afterwards.”

The boy enjoyed the cowboy western and then went happily off to bed.

He had a cozy room above the front door overlooking the street in this mid-19th century house with ell containing a kitchen and woodshed. A large barn was attached to the ell.

The boy lived in the house with his mother and father and sometimes his grandfather. On the evening of March 25th the father was away shopping in Lowell – the house was in Westford, Mass. – and the grandfather was away visiting the boy’s aunt. So, the boy was alone with his mother in the big house.

The boy had just dozed off to sleep when suddenly there was his mother shaking him and saying, “I smell smoke! I think the house is on fire!”

She grabbed the boy’s hand, pulled him out of bed, and dragged him bumpity-bump down the stairs and out into the street. There he could see smoke curling up from the ell and maybe some flames too.

May Day! May Day!! Yes, it was May Day, the town librarian who next grabbed his hand and began pulling him – red queen-like — toward the library just beyond a neighboring house. The boy tried to resist, but May Day was strong and tough, and she shushed him like she did unruly youths in her library.

Before he knew it, the boy was alone in the library. May Day told the boy in no uncertain terms to stay put before she and the library patrons dashed back outside to watch the fire. But the boy could see his house clearly, especially its barn, from the reading room windows, and besides, it was warmer inside the library than out – he had his pajamas on of course – so he did stay put.

By now there was considerable commotion out in the street and around his house. He hoped there were fire engines there although he couldn’t see any from the library. He began to see smoke rising from the barn, and then, whammo!, all of a sudden the barn burst into flame, quite literally becoming a fireball, even though this was indeed before the invention of the atom bomb. The boy thought, “Oh dear, I don’t think they’re going to put this fire out!”, and for the first time he became really worried and a little frightened.

It was about this time he realized he needed to “go to the bathroom”. What bathrooms? he thought. He rushed around the first floor of the library but didn’t see any men’s room signs. However, he noticed heating registers in the corners on the floor of the reading room. Hmmm, how convenient and nobody’s here, he thought. For many years thereafter the boy’s Uncle Gordon was want to make jokes about how the boy “peed down the register” in the library while his house was burning down. The boy never should have bragged about it!

Well, to make a long story short, they finally managed to put out the fire with half of the house and the entire barn burned to the ground. It seemed that hoses got tangled, or didn’t fit or something, and water ran out, etc., but eventually the volunteer force got the blaze under control. One of the firemen said later, “Well, we saved the cellar hole!”

The boy’s father came back from Lowell seeing hoses on the street leading to where? To his very own house! One can imagine how he felt.

The boy’s uncle Morton took him and his mother and father – he was an only child — to Concord to spend the night at his house, and uncle Morton presented the boy with a used bike which made him happy. He remembers trying it out that very night, or maybe it was the next night.

The little family spent the spring and part of the summer in a little camp on Lake Mattawanikee, also known as Forge Pond, while a new house was being thrown together using cheap hurricane lumber at the site of the old house. The famous New England hurricane had occurred the previous year.

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