New Breed Sighting: The Human Whale!

Recently, spectators caught sight of this bizarre, tireless creature outside of President Trump's golf course, spouting air through its blowhole onto the frail humans walking beside him! A new species is born!

Okay, you guys have probably read the story of this goofball and what he's up to: protesting the protesters who're protesting... something or other. Honestly, I can't keep track of all of the protesting going on anymore. I need a murder board to keep it all straight. I'm not gonna trot out what any of the protesters are protesting at this particular venue, needless to say it's gonna piss off half the U.S. population one way or the other.

It's all so...tired. Aren't you guys exhausted? Both political sides have displayed poor extremist behavior and are embarrassing their respective parties. I'm not gonna exclude myself from name-calling, getting angry, and pointing fingers in the past. But I'm done.

So...let's talk about the important matters here: first...this guy's style. Just look at his spectacular form, letting it all hang out, apparently never exhausting his copious amount of oxygen (as an ex-smoker, there's no way I could've maintained his stamina without passing out), not once caring how foolish he looks. I gotta give the guy props for that, at least. And, oh! His perfectly round blowhole is something to be envied (by someone, somewhere, I'm fairly sure).

Obviously, this idiot could be a carrier of coronavirus and not have symptoms, so I'm glad they charged him. (Thus further cementing my thought that not only does 2020 suck, but now it blows, too.) 

But what about the precedent this guy is setting? Particularly for the future and laws relating to such similar crimes? I mean, he was arrested for misdemeanor assault after all.

How in the world could this be proven in court?

For instance...

Matlock (espousing his cracker-barrel philosophy): "Your honor, it's a travesty, just a travesty, I say, that my client is even being charged with this laughable perceived 'crime'."

Opposing Counsel: "Objection, your honor, the defendant is clearly shown in photographic evidence breathing on the victims! He obviously--"

Matlock: "Did you just take a breath there, Mr. Opposing Counsel? I swan I saw you do such a thing. Your honor, isn't breathin' just a natural body function? I know I'm sure as shootin' glad I'm still breathin'."

Judge (smiling and chuckling): "I'll allow Mr. Matlock to say anything just as long as he keeps speaking in that warm, down-home drawl." (Aims puppy dog eyes at Matlock.)

See what I mean? This is setting a terrible precedent for legal cases in 2021 and beyond. Don't the courts have more important things to be dealing with like...oh...wait, scratch that example.

Here, try another scenario:

(Cue an All-American Family in a car.)

Little Suzie: "Daaaaad! Billy just breathed on me! Gah!"

Little Billy: "Did not, did not, did not, did not, did not, did--"

Dad (red-faced with veins bulging out of his forehead): "Gawd dammit, Billy, quit breathing! Don't MAKE me come back there!"

Not a pretty future, is it?

Nothing's certainly been pretty in the last couple months or so. My retinas have been permanently scarred by so-called "news" outlets releasing revolting photos (thus making the National Enquirer the class-act news outlet on the block now). There's the aforementioned Human Whale. 

How about Trump dancing to the Village People's song "Y.M.C.A" (and I still find it outrageous that no one in Trump's cabinet had the testicular fortitude to tell the guy what that song was really about)? There was Mitch McConnell's awful close-ups of his white, black, pink, and purple appearance (I almost felt sorry for the guy. On second thought...nahhhhhh.). 

And finally Giuliani's infamous double-whammy with his "acting" debut in Borat 2, followed by the manic-looking photo where his head bled down upon him exacting revenge.

 (Looks at clock. Checks calendar.) Hurry up, 2021!

While we're waiting for this ghastly year to come to a sluggish stop, how about entertaining yourself with my ghastly horror collection, Twisted Tales from Tornado Alley? Lots of horror and laughs guaranteed to take your mind off the horror and laughs of 2020.

 

The Revenge of Don Chillito!

You know, with all my recent angry posts about current politics and the state of the world, you'd think one of those posts would have been controversial, stirring people up on both sides. But just take a wild guess as to what the most controversial post I ever wrote was. Go on, take a stab... 

Yep, it was about my horrifying visit to a little Mexican restaurant dump, Don Chillito's, right here in my neighborhood. (If you'd like to read it, LOOKIE HERE. Go on...I'll wait...)

It blew up the intronets for a couple days, my most widely read article ever! Why? Because this "local institution" is inexplicably loved by crazy people. I had haters coming outta the woodwork and calling me names because I dared to detail my awful last visit there (I took my daughter and nieces to torture them because they couldn't believe it was as bad as my brother and I kept making it out to be.). I was called a "stupid, little old lady(?)" and that I had no taste and should "keep my big mouth shut" and one eerie, creepy response read like an illiterate death threat! All because of this sucky, crappy restaurant that's known for having rats run through the kitchen.

THAT'S what stirs up people. Not politics.

Hard at work to make YOU sick!

 

Well, it looks like "Don Chillito" himself has given me just one more reason to never set foot in his hell-hole again. (Note: I know that "Don Chillito" isn't the name of the owner, but I like to imagine him as a mumbly-mouthed Brando-like gangster cliche, sitting behind his row of microwaves and doling out burrito justice.) 

Get this... Don Chillito's owner has decided to ignore all COVID-19 restrictions, including mask orders! This ass-hat is quoted as saying, "I think at a time when our liberty is attacked as it is being, there comes a time where a man has to draw a line in the sand."

Spoken like a true ignorant mafioso of Mexican gastro grotesqueries. So when you order "Don's Plate" make sure to ask for a side of COVID to wash it all down with.

Look, the place has always been gross, dirty, and filthy. A guy I know who used to work there said he once saw a giant rat running across the open burrito fillings trays. 

And they have this big open trough filled with chips where everyone is encouraged to just go up and reach in. In fact, I'm pretty sure I once heard that a little girl fell into it and suffocated. Later, they found her cold,blue hand reaching out of the chip pit, clutching onto a chip. Yeah, I'm almost absolutely kinda pretty sure I'd heard that...

GROSS!

 

Anyway, people stay out of this crummy dump! If not for the sake of your taste buds, then do it to save your life! Jeeze, guess what they're gonna do to good ol' Don Chillito if the city finds him in violation of the mask order (of which he definitely is)? They'll slap him with a hundred dollar fine and let him go on with his business! That's nothing! Don can make that money back in five minutes by slinging crappy burritos to unwitting rubes. Might even sneeze on their food, too, for good measure. 'Cause he's a patriot, by cracky!

The Don of Disgusting Dinners goes on about drawing a line in the sand because he's a man and all that hooey (Gee, who does this sound like, folks?). His claim our liberty is being attacked is downright ludicrous.

Whatever, Don, whatever... If you were truly a patriot, then you'd be wearing a mask to protect your fellow citizens. It's everyone's duty to protect one another. Golden rule time and what not.

Gets my back up. However, there is a silver lining...in the same article, the Don is quoted as saying, if the city takes him to court over this, he might just close the doors.

Halleluhjah! Take your burritos, Don, and go home! Ding Dong, the Don is dead!

Speaking of things that should be dead, maybe it's time to check out (and into) my horror, thriller, mystery what's-it, Dread and Breakfast.  Sometimes, "dead" is just a state of mind. 

 

REVEALED: Why It Took Nevada So Long to Count Election Results!

Because of my stellar, fiery journalistic skills (i.e., making crap up), I've uncovered the shocking truth behind why Nevada took forever in wrapping things up. It's because of this guy:

It's the truth. How else do you explain why a state with such a low population took much longer than the bigger states? The entire election has just been a farce of agony and torture. Everything hinged on Nevada's six electoral votes, and every day I watched as the percentage of completion crawled along. Then every night around five, they'd call it a day and send their one counter home to bed because he needed his daily eleven hours sleep. The next day he'd come back in to work and knock out another whopping 1% before calling it a day. 

Shocking thing is I encountered this lone Nevada vote counter in Kansas before he migrated West. Couple years ago, I found a rare, cheap beer I liked at a liquor store. So I loaded up four six-packs; one in each hand, one beneath my chin, the last one grasped under my arm.

The old clerk--straight outta a Green Acres corner store--asked me if I'd like a bag. 

I thought about it. "Sure," I said, "it'll make my life easier." Or so I thought...

Behind huge spectacles, he stared at me, eyes at half-mast, a sleepy tortoise on downers. I watched in horror as he ever so slowly (and a bit too lovingly) licked his finger. (I'm thinking, are there Amber Alerts for guys like me?) 

As he continued to lick that finger like a buffalo chicken wing, his eyes never left me. Finally, he lowered the wet digit to the plastic bag dispenser. It didn't take. So he brought the finger back up to his lizard-like darting tongue again, eyes glued to mine, hypnotizing me with his can't-take-my-eyes-off-a-car-wreck gaze, and licked the tar outta his finger again. In surrealistic slow motion, he lowered the offensively wet finger and again failed to pull the bag off the dispenser. But he didn't let it get him down as he stared at me through his owl-like eyes.

Okay, side-bar: First of all, I've never understood the absolutely unnecessary finger-licking the elderly favor to accomplish small achievements such as turning a page in a book and now, trying to grasp a plastic bag off a hook. Second, gross. Third, it's not only grotesque, but I can definitively say I don't want some guy licking up my bags, particularly during the pandemic.

As a child, I once tried this peculiar method. Thought it was grown up behavior (friggin' adults never made sense). All I got for my failed effort was a funky taste in my mouth.

Back to the liquor store, I decided to cut and run before ol' Mr. Lick-Fail-Repeat could run through the cycle again. I said, "Don't worry about it. I'll just strong-arm 'em out to the car." I did. It wasn't easy. But it was a lot quicker than the finger-lickin'-good bag dispenser man. And those eyes! GOD, THOSE EYES!

Such nightmares.

But the finger licker had a fairy-tale ending: I'm absolutely certain he's the only hire counting the 2020 election ballots in Nevada, painstakingly licking that damn finger with every ballot, time and time again, until it's totally pruned out.

For God's sake, people! Stop the madness of finger licking and my salivaphobia! Honestly, I don't ever want to get back to using paper currency ever again; you never know whose got their slobber all over that five-spot. 

Glad I got that off my chest.

(Okay, final side-bar: I'm done, at least for a while, writing about politics. Right now the last thing anyone needs is another knucklehead running around and saying hurtful things on social media. This post was done in fun and I think maybe it's a bit cathartic for me, putting my political woes and fears and anger to bed with a (I hope) funny small epilogue. At least for now. Peace.)

 

The (So-Called) Political Race Drags On...

Four days and still counting the votes! Agghhhh! I want this crap over with. This election--the divisiveness, the anger and animosity toward our fellow citizens--has gone on long enough. I'd very much like it to stop.

The entire ramped-up country trauma has been going on for too long. Guess I hadn't realized it as much until the last four years, but in all fairness, the problem's been going on for a lot longer than that. It's just now been pushed to the forefront.

I'm worried about America's future, gang. And I'm not putting it all down to the silly presidential race. I'm talking about everyone in general. When this election finally--FINALLY--gets decided, will we continue on a downward spiral into racism and seething anger toward our neighbors? Or will we slowly heal, bolstered by (I hope) a vaccine for Covid-19?

I dunno. My great sis-in-law posted on Facebook, "Hey, when is the good luck from those black-eyed peas we ate on New Year's Eve 2020 gonna' kick in?" (Naturally, I gave a smart-assed reply which is helpful to no one and said, "2027. Like gum, black-eyed peas takes seven years to digest." Kinda hope I'm not a prophet.)

Our neighbors, the new kids on the block, had the right idea. On election day, they left notes on every door on the street about how tensions are high, tonight's gonna be long, but let's continue to be kind to everyone in the 'hood. Come over to party. Agreed I did. Hammered I got. (Socially distancing outside, natch). The intelligent way to handle election "night."

So much of this is unprecedented. And I'm damn tired of checking my computer every thirty minutes hoping for some kind of movement. Even if the results don't turn out to be what I want, I just want closure. As an American, I'll accept whatever. But my addled brain and nerves have been dangerous, yet inert live wires for four days now.

Of course, if President Trump loses, he's threatening he won't take defeat lightly, fighting it until January. Great! Much hilarity will ensue! Or he still could win and then brag about it to the stars. 

Sigh...

Aren't you all just...exhausted? 

Lately, my wife and I have been seeking solace in the TV show, "The West Wing" on Netflix. But even that seems like too much politics now.

I think I'll take up taxidermy, an uplifting hobby, certain to boost my spirits, one that's not at all creepy.

Okay, sorry. This is written Thursday night at midnight and I promised not to do another political rant, but...c'mon, guys! Politicians are supposed to be serving the American people, not torturing them!

Good night and God bless us one and all (oh, and you, too, Tiny Tim, as long as you're white, privileged, definitely male, and not any of that nonsensical other non binary gender nonsense. Sorry, sorry, a thousand sorries...but if our president can speak "sarcastically," hey, so can one of his lowly constituents.)