
“They blinded me…. with pseudo-science!”

Semi-random musings, poems, and visual images from the journey



A man walks down the street
He says, “Why am I soft in the middle now?
Why am I soft in the middle?
The rest of my life is so hard
I need a photo opportunity
I want a shot at redemption
Don’t want to end up a cartoon
In a cartoon graveyard”
— from Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al” on the album Graceland (1986)

This post (using ChatGPT) was inspired by my friend BR who had shared this supremo photo (below) from the 1975 Masters of Chi Chi Rodriguez and his caddy, Carl Howard. My buddy noted the relative lack of brand logos and product endorsements in that era, which led me to ponder what a comparable player on the senior tour might look like these days.


What human does not love Matchbox-20, Sister Hazel, and ZIMA…?!!
This might be the greatest show of all-time. Fuck Woodstock! Fuck Newport! Fuck Monterey! Fuck Burning Man! Phuck Phucking Phish and all the other bullshit jam band festivals!! This… is… the… ONE!!!
God, I love ZIMA.

This is, of course, not unique to healthcare. In fact, it is a defining feature of virtually every aspect of our decaying society. So, not only are we getting Donald J. Trump’s chicken-scratch signature on our paper currency, they are also changing the motto to match the ethos of our Darwinian economy. It’s long overdue…


I love the idea that Trump, vainglorious bastard that he is, would actually change the face of the Stature of Liberty to match his own dumb-ugly mug. Words are insufficient to describe what a catastrophic pox he is on our society. And, sadly, he will continue to be long after his exit from the stage since he has offspring and has also taught an entire generation how to openly lie, commit flagrant fraud and avoid the consequences of his countless nefarious actions. And in that vein, I propose that we rename the organism that causes syphilis Treponema trumpidum (subspecies assholio). Hell, he’d probably love the shout-out himself. No such thing as bad publicity.


Maybe for the future, in the interest in keeping building costs down, presidential libraries should only contain items actually read or viewed by that particular president. In the case of Trump, this would amount to maybe three of four books about himself and the various MAGA-zines that featured profiles of him. Plus a bunch of vintage porn mags and sex tapes, including the Stormy Daniels collection. But mostly just comic books and cartoons from his childhood. His motto could vamp on that of McDonald’s: “Over One Billion Books Burned!”


But let’s be honest. His absolutely must be the world’s gawdiest, tackiest, schlockiest, cheesiest, most narcissistic, and self-aggrandizing monument ever built and done so on a foundation of countless lies, frauds, fabrications and moments of stolen glory. Simply put, it will be the greatest structure ever erected. His will make the collective palaces of Saddam Hussein look like that outhouse from “Slumdog Millionaire”… because, well…. Trump. Is. God.
