The Passing Parade: Cheap Shots from a Drive By Mind

"...difficile est saturam non scribere. Nam quis iniquae tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus, ut teneat se..." "...it is hard not to write Satire. For who is so tolerant of the unjust City, so steeled, that he can restrain himself... Juvenal, The Satires (1.30-32) akakyakakyevich@gmail.com

Sunday, December 08, 2019

Just saying

You know, if Charlton Heston had come down from Mount Sinai with the Ten Commandments inscribed on a blue rubber chicken, the history of the world would be entirely different.

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Thursday, October 24, 2019

TOP SECRET!! READ ALL ABOUT IT!!


A gaggle of Republican Congressmen (what is the proper collective noun for a member of Congress, I wonder? A congress of Congressmen seems redundant, whereas a murder of Congressmen seems more than a little hostile, but that’s just my opinion) forced their way into the super-secret classified room in which the Impeachment Inquisition is holding its demonic rites and demanded that the proceedings be made open to the public, among other important things—they did order pizza, for example, and ordering pizza is always a very important thing, although there is no record of who ordered the slice with the anchovies and pineapple; clearly some distinguished gentlemen  from a state somewhere west of the Mississippi River who doesn't know any better.  The Grand Inquisitor, Mr. Schiff of California, a man who could not inspire terror in a lame housefly even when holding a can of Raid and a sawed-off shotgun, promptly closed down the testimony of some spavined State Department bureaucrat muttering about how the Ukraine girls really knock him out, and demanded that the Republicans leave the West behind.  Tempers flared again today when the Impeachment Inquisition announced that the Republicans had, horror of horrors, actually used their cellphones and other personal electronic devices while in the super-secret classified room eating their pizza. The Democratic Party’s sudden devotion to the procedures for handling classified materials and areas is welcome, albeit slightly suspect; I do not recall this devotion to the letter of the law when Mrs. Clinton was letting a plethora of classified cats out of the bag with her personal email server, but perhaps my memory fails me. In any case, the Democrats’ screeching about the violation of their sanctum sanctorum is a little hard to take seriously. The whines emanating from Capitol Hill about the violation of security protocols frankly remind me of a drug dealer complaining that the cops ignored the Keep Off The Grass sign in his yard on their way into his house.

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Friday, September 20, 2019

BLAS LEAVES RACE! NO ONE AFFECTED!! FILM AT ELEVEN!!!!

Mayor Bill De Blasio of New York has ended his bid for the Democratic Party's 2020 nomination for President of the United States. This has caused next to no consternation at all among millions of people who did not know he was running for the Democratic Party's 2020 nomination for President of the United States, that he was (and still is) the Mayor of the City of New York, or that he is a tall man who likes to drive to Brooklyn to go to the gym. In short, he is the political equivalent of William Hughes Mearns' man who wasn't there.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish he'd go away...

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn't see him there at all!

Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... (slam!)

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn't there
He wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish he'd go away...

Enough said.

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Monday, August 19, 2019

Pelicans and the need for order in the antebellum world


There is, as far as I know, no such thing as an organic free-range pelican, other than the ones that haunt the shores and wetlands of this our Great Republic, nor are there any plans to start raising such a creature for fun and profit any time soon. I suspect that pelicans are outside most people’s comfort zone—after all, no American child has ever gone to McDonald’s and ordered a delicious four pack of Pelican McNuggets with a large fries and a Coke—and I suspect that this unfamiliarity with the product keeps pelicans from appearing on any restaurant’s menu. In addition, the pelican’s bill does not have any known medicinal quality, unlike an emu’s comb, which will ease your aches and pains without making you stink. Since no one wants to eat them or turn various and sundry parts of their bodies into medicine, pelicans can go about their business without fear of disturbance.

No, this is not part of a longer piece. It just popped into my mind about two minutes ago and since the egregious mold pit has closed for the day and I am waiting for the last guy to come out of the men’s room so I can close the place down and go home, I am just typing away to pass the time.  Hope all is well with you.


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Thursday, July 11, 2019

Why? Why? Why?


Mr. Mueller is going to Washington shortly, there to testify about the report he spent two years and several millions of dollars compiling.  I do not know why he is bothering; it will be hot and humid in Washington—it always is this time of year—and it is not as though Mueller will add anything new and significant to what the report says, but the Democrats want to hear this straight from him and Mueller will indulge them.  The Democrats want this more than Mueller does, I suspect.  Since the release of the Mueller Report, the Democrats have been acting like a little girl who wanted a pony for Christmas and is now livid that she did not get one. The little girl was so certain of her getting that pony that she simply dismissed any idea that it might not happen, despite her parents telling her over and over again that there was no room in the apartment for a pony. And then Christmas came and reality, as is its wont, came crashing in with it. Little girls, of course, can only throw tantrums and then sulk in their rooms for days over the crushing of their equine dreams; the House Democrats can throw a tantrum and then subpoena Mr. Mueller and anyone else the House Democrats deems necessary to appear in front of their committees. Someone must explain to Congressmen Schiff and Nadler why President Trump is still President of the United States.  After all, getting rid of President Trump was why Mr. Mueller and his staff got their jobs in the first place.  So why is he still occupying the White House and doing things that the House Democrats find distasteful in the extreme?  Inquiring minds in the House of Representatives want to know, dammit!

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Sunday, June 09, 2019

I should, really.


I should write more here. I haven't been writing much for a while, which is just a polite way of saying I haven't been writing anything at all for a while, except for checks to pay the bills. I wish I didn't have to do that, either, but I have as yet found it impossible to find any way to get electricity for my house without paying the local utility for it.  I don't know why I haven't been writing; there are certainly plenty of things to write about these days. There's the Mueller Report, for instance, and how its release has reduced a major American political party to the level of small children who didn't get a pony for Christmas. And there is the 75th anniversary of the invasion of Normandy, clearly one of the most important events of the 20th century. On the evening of 5 June 1944, German occupied Europe stretched from the Mediterranean to the Baltic, from the Black Sea to the Atlantic Ocean. On the evening of 5 June 1945, Nazi Germany had been dead for almost a month.  Obviously something worth writing about occurred between those two dates. Or I could write about the good economic news that we never hear about because no one else wants to write about it. And then there is the possibility that robot sex slaves will take over the commercial vice industry in this country. I haven't given that last one much thought as yet, but as the market develops I think I will have to look into the matter and report on it. In the meantime, though, I think I will kick back and contemplate my choices here. I'll be back shortly....maybe.

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Tuesday, April 09, 2019

Dialogue

Beto: Bibi's a racist!

Bibi: What's a beto?

A beto, for those of you who may not know, is a slang term for an American of Irish descent who thinks he is a Hispanic, usually for reasons that no one can fathom, or to run for office in an area with a large number of Hispanics, which a reason everyone can fathom. (Full disclosure here: I am a person of Irish descent, although I do not think I am Hispanic, nor do I think I am Russian or even a Ukrainian pretending to Russian pretending to be Hispanic. I do, however, pretend to weigh much less than I do, a pretense I maintain by not looking at mirrors very often and avoiding weight scales as much as possible.)

Hispanic, for those of you who may not know about the minutiae of American racial classification, is an all purpose term first used in the early 1970's as a replacement term for Latino. The Census Bureau wanted a new term for persons whose ancestors came from the Spanish-speaking countries of Central and South America in order to keep their phony baloney jobs, to quote the distinguished American statesman, William Le Petomane, and I am sure that much thought and millions of man-hours went into the search for such a word. Hispanic comes from the Latin word Hispania, the Roman province that encompasses most of modern Spain, and has the benefit of meaning only those people who speak or whose ancestors spoke Spanish. Latino, you see, comes from Latinium, the province that surrounds Rome and that still exists today, I'll have you know, although with the transition from Latin to Italian the area is now called Lazio. This, of course, causes a problem with the racial spoils system as it exists in here in this our Great Republic: the authorities did not want to deal with white people named Lazio, diLazio, Romano, or DiRoma claiming social welfare benefits meant for Spanish speakers just because the word Latino makes it clear that Italians are not only Latinos, they are the original Latinos. No indeed, the word Hispanic makes it clear that what we are talking about here are honest to God Spanish-speaking people, which in the US of A usually means Mexicans, unless you are in Miami, where it means Cubans, or in New York, where it means Dominicans and Puerto Ricans. Under no circumstances, however, do either of these terms apply to a Irish-American.  An Irishman, to the Romans, would be a Scotii or a Hibernian, and never a Latino, a Hispanic, or a Beto.

So why a beto and not a duck, you might ask. Beats me, guys, I'm a stranger here myself, although being a Beto is better than being a Bobby when one is running for office. Beto, when combined with an Irish last name, sounds vaguely exotic, like Bernardo O'Higgins or Santiago O'Leary, whereas combining Bobby with an Irish last name sounds like the name of a bartender in south Boston. When one is aiming at the former, the latter is something of a let-down. And that, Bibi, is what a beto is and why it's not a bobby.

PS. There's really so much one can say here about Betos, but I am trying to get myself back into the habit of writing here, so I will just ease on in with this little bit and try to go longer at some other time. I trust everyone is doing well and that all is well with the family. See you later.

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