I’ve avoided writing about political stuff lately because it’s been nearly impossible to find any humor in the things coming out of Trumpworld, a.k.a. The Swamp.
But one great thing has happened: Scott Pruitt is history! If you have the opportunity or interest, read his letter of resignation. Pruitt writes about prayer, invokes The Almighty, and makes the election of Donald Trump sound like the second coming of Christ. I’d have to add “Anti-” in front of the big C.. Does Scotty’s slinking away from the EPA (Environmental Protection Agency) mean open spaces, national parks and our own beloved Al Demeter Park just south of the Santori Library in Aurora will be safe from hunters, loggers, air pollution, and the strip mines of the coal industry? Hardly. Pruitt’s replacement is just as bad, maybe worse. Don’t be shocked if one day an oil pipeline construction crew shows up and sets the machinery in motion to pump crude underneath Al Demeter’s namesake rock, carrying the black stuff from Canada to Texas.
Did you hear what some Brits are planning for The Donald when he visits England on his European trip? A bunch of them who aren’t particularly enamored of our beloved president (I can’t imagine why) produced a 20-foot tall Baby-Donald-in-mid-tantrum balloon, complete with diaper and smart phone. The environmentalist group that produced it received permission to fly it over Parliament for two hours when the real baby visits, and send it aloft in every other city on his itinerary. They made it clear they’re not against America or Americans, just what Trump is doing to them. I think they should produce another giant balloon of Stormy Daniels chasing the Trump balloon with a rolled up magazine. Maybe they’d be willing to fly both in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. I wonder if I could get my expense account approved to go over the pond and report on those developments?
I love America. Where else can a bigoted kid with a few hundred million dollars, no scruples, no integrity, no empathy for others, and completely lacking the ability to tell the truth, grow up and become president of the United States? God bless the USA!
• My week began with me involved in one of my all-time favorite pastimes: Kidney stone surgery. Don’t be jealous. I’m sure some of you readers have had medical procedures that would make me jealous. This was either my eighth or 367th, I can’t remember which. Some of mine involved lasers, ancient Spanish Inquisition tools poked into my back, and being bombarded by sound waves while in a tank of water. The sound wave procedure has improved since my first which consisted of being anesthetized and dropped in a tank so the intense sound waves could pulverize the stones, then remaining in the hospital for a couple of days to recover. For this latest operation, I was still knocked out, but a thick, wet, mat had replaced the tank of water and the sound wave machinery was greatly reduced in size. I was sent packing once I woke up and could remember my name. Next time I suppose the wet mat will be replaced by a damp square of toilet paper, the sound waves produced by an iPod at full volume, and the operation will be performed by a candy striper in the parking lot.
• Sorry, younger readers, for the preceding medical stuff. As an infinitely wise, all-knowing, schooled-in-the-ways-of-the-world teenager (aren’t all teenagers?), I listened to my parents and their friends discuss their medical problems, aches and pains, ad infinitum. I said to my parents, “That’s all you guys ever talk about.” My mother said, “Just wait ‘til you get old.” I remember telling my mother if I ever start doing that when I get old, I hope someone will just smash me in the face with a two-by-four.
I’m doing it, so now’s your chance!