Your Pink Underwear Is Showing: Miss Me Yet?   Remember those billboards that popped up in Barack Obama’s first term that showed George W. Bush waving and had the caption “Miss me yet?”   When I drove by one of them, I would laugh to myself and think why would anyone miss the worst president in my lifetime. Now conservatives, I know you feel the need to defend him like the mother of a serial killer does, “he was a good boy, just misunderstood,” but I have always believed that you know he was a screw up too. The mishandling of Hurricane Katrina, the blowing a hole in the federal debt with his tax cuts because we were getting control of the federal budget way too fast, a power hungry vice-president, and the crashing of the economy. Any question of whether he was a disaster can be summed up in five little words, “He invaded the wrong country,” end of discussion.    It was a war that cost the nation trillions of dollars and shattered too many innocent young people’s lives. It was all because Bush did not ask basic questions about what we would do once our tanks pulled into Baghdad. As a person, he is probably a wonderful human being. As a president, he too often came off like a chimpanzee handed a Speak and Spell. Worst president ever.    Why am I starting to suspect that, a few months into Trump’s presidency, I am going to be missing W? God must be a long lost Bush brother.   I know America is great again. Every doughy middle-aged white guy is telling me that. But why do the skid marks in our nation’s collective underwear seem so much bigger?   I never thought we could have a president to whom a Congressional committee could ask, “Are you now or have you ever been elected President of the United States with the help of a former Communist KGB agent?” I guess orange really is the new black list.   Shirtless bareback riding Vladimir Putin, to whom Trump was repeatedly writing teenage love poems throughout the campaign, like most older white male Republicans, quaked in his boots at the thought of having to stand nose-to-nose with Hillary Clinton. So Pooty went to the roulette wheel and placed his money on the reality star with the bad comb over and smothered in so much bronzer he could be declared a superfund site.    In order to influence the election, the Russians hacked the DNC and former Presidential Chief of Staff John Podesta. Then they gave all that information to WikiLeaks, got on conservative websites, passed around phony anti-Hillary stories, and stirred up conservatives into thinking a 69-year-old grandmother in a pantsuit was the second coming of the Bell Witch. Just think what Hillary Clinton might have done if she had gotten her hands on the levers of power, well, other than be extremely well prepared, competent and running our economy on par with her husband’s administration. OK, without the “I have a quarter in my pocket somewhere” games played with teenage interns. Even Putin, who never met a man he didn’t want to torture, excuse me, enhanced interrogate, worried that Trump might have been too crazy for Americans when he attacked a dead war hero’s parents. I guess Putin never watched Duck Dynasty or he would not have underestimated America’s loose dance with reality.   I am not saying Trump supporters are fellow travelers or puppets of a Commie, nor would I ever claim to paraphrase a conservative icon that your undergarments have a pink hue, but you might want to wear turtleneck sweaters for hiding the hickey he gave you.  Remember when the mere thought of a Communist influencing anything lead those on the right to discredit the Civil Rights Movement, blacklisted actors, writers, and directors, and go on witch hunts throughout the federal government. We have invaded foreign countries and interfered with the politics of too many countries with just the slightest whiff of a KGB agent hiding behind the curtain. Ronald Reagan spoke of the Evil Empire and asked Mr. Gorbachev to tear down that wall. Trump has promised his own wall and asked Mr. Putin to hack Hillary’s emails. There used to be a fear that “the Russians are coming, the Russians are coming.” Now, it is all fine and dandy as long as they stay at a Trump Hotel.   I am just pointing out the irony. I know that I am irritating right-wingers out there, but be honest. It has to bother you just a touch that some of those cute half-true anti- Hillary memes posted on your Facebook page came from Ivan in Vladivostok. I know you are telling yourself, “No former Commie manipulated me or anyone else that voted for The Donald.” And I did not attend an Enya concert because of a former girlfriend. I went because I like emotionally drenched pointless music that leaves me wanting to open my wrists.   In the future, a good rule of thumb is: if the Russian secret police and the FBI both try to influence the election in favor of a certain candidate, you might want to examine why you’re voting for that candidate.     President-Elect Donald Trump has stated that he does not believe CIA intelligence. If he actually sat through an intelligence briefing, he would tell them that, but he doesn’t need to because he’s smart. Why, when he repeatedly talks about how smart he is, am I reminded of Fredo ranting at Michael about how he is smart in The Godfather II?  “I can handle things! I'm smart! Not like everybody says... like dumb... I'm smart!” The only difference is, it is America getting popped in the rowboat by Al Neri.   Trump is smart, not dumb, but does a smart man believe The National Enquirer when it smears another candidate’s father claiming he was involved in the Kennedy assassination? Does a smart man believe millions of people voted illegally because some whack-a-doddle alt right website claimed such. Does a smart man believe global warming is a Chinese conspiracy. Does a smart man nominate a man who cannot even remember the name of the department he is supposed to head? How about a general as his Secretary of Defense who was fired by the previous president due to incompetency? Maybe a head of Housing and Urban Development that has no background in that area and has never run anything? Who thinks a Cabinet that is wealthier than 33 percent of American households combined is a good idea?   Yeah, I might be missing W. and that vacuous look in his eyes in a few months because, even though he put the horsey show guy [Michael Brown, FEMA deputy Director] in charge of a major agency and screwed up almost everything he touched, at least he tried. His heart was in the right place.   It all makes me think that I am going to wake up some morning mumbling that “there is no place like home”. Samantha Bee will put a cold compress on my head, John Oliver, Stephen Colbert, and Bill Maher will look on. I will babble at David Letterman, Larry Wilmore, and Jon Stewart about this strange land run by a creature that looked like a Cheetos that had been left under the couch for several months. The creature had really tiny hands and a potty mouth, and they were there but they had become mountain men and did not have their television shows anymore. A shirtless Vladimir Putin, riding a horse, had cyber influenced the election. An elderly woman in a pantsuit lost because she could not figure out her email. Almost three million more people voted for her than the Cheetos creature that kept wanting to sell me steaks, neckties, and bottled water. The Cheetos man’s wife sounded like Natasha from The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show but kept blinking in Morse code that she was a prisoner. He said you could grab women like they were a six pack of beer, and that Scott Biao was somehow still a celebrity. I would ask where Trevor Noah was, they would all look at me puzzled, ask who’s that, and I would know that I was in Barack Obama’s America again.    
Your Pink Underwear Is Showing: Miss Me Yet?   Remember those billboards that popped up in Barack Obama’s first term that showed George W. Bush waving and had the caption “Miss me yet?”   When I drove by one of them, I would laugh to myself and think why would anyone miss the worst president in my lifetime. Now conservatives, I know you feel the need to defend him like the mother of a serial killer does, “he was a good boy, just misunderstood,” but I have always believed that you know he was a screw up too. The mishandling of Hurricane Katrina, the blowing a hole in the federal debt with his tax cuts because we were getting control of the federal budget way too fast, a power hungry vice-president, and the crashing of the economy. Any question of whether he was a disaster can be summed up in five little words, “He invaded the wrong country,” end of discussion.    It was a war that cost the nation trillions of dollars and shattered too many innocent young people’s lives. It was all because Bush did not ask basic questions about what we would do once our tanks pulled into Baghdad. As a person, he is probably a wonderful human being. As a president, he too often came off like a chimpanzee handed a Speak and Spell. Worst president ever.    Why am I starting to suspect that, a few months into Trump’s presidency, I am going to be missing W? God must be a long lost Bush brother.   I know America is great again. Every doughy middle-aged white guy is telling me that. But why do the skid marks in our nation’s collective underwear seem so much bigger?   I never thought we could have a president to whom a Congressional committee could ask, “Are you now or have you ever been elected President of the United States with the help of a former Communist KGB agent?” I guess orange really is the new black list.   Shirtless bareback riding Vladimir Putin, to whom Trump was repeatedly writing teenage love poems throughout the campaign, like most older white male Republicans, quaked in his boots at the thought of having to stand nose-to-nose with Hillary Clinton. So Pooty went to the roulette wheel and placed his money on the reality star with the bad comb over and smothered in so much bronzer he could be declared a superfund site.    In order to influence the election, the Russians hacked the DNC and former Presidential Chief of Staff John Podesta. Then they gave all that information to WikiLeaks, got on conservative websites, passed around phony anti-Hillary stories, and stirred up conservatives into thinking a 69-year-old grandmother in a pantsuit was the second coming of the Bell Witch. Just think what Hillary Clinton might have done if she had gotten her hands on the levers of power, well, other than be extremely well prepared, competent and running our economy on par with her husband’s administration. OK, without the “I have a quarter in my pocket somewhere” games played with teenage interns. Even Putin, who never met a man he didn’t want to torture, excuse me, enhanced interrogate, worried that Trump might have been too crazy for Americans when he attacked a dead war hero’s parents. I guess Putin never watched Duck Dynasty or he would not have underestimated America’s loose dance with reality.   I am not saying Trump supporters are fellow travelers or puppets of a Commie, nor would I ever claim to paraphrase a conservative icon that your undergarments have a pink hue, but you might want to wear turtleneck sweaters for hiding the hickey he gave you.  Remember when the mere thought of a Communist influencing anything lead those on the right to discredit the Civil Rights Movement, blacklisted actors, writers, and directors, and go on witch hunts throughout the federal government. We have invaded foreign countries and interfered with the politics of too many countries with just the slightest whiff of a KGB agent hiding behind the curtain. Ronald Reagan spoke of the Evil Empire and asked Mr. Gorbachev to tear down that wall. Trump has promised his own wall and asked Mr. Putin to hack Hillary’s emails. There used to be a fear that “the Russians are coming, the Russians are coming.” Now, it is all fine and dandy as long as they stay at a Trump Hotel.   I am just pointing out the irony. I know that I am irritating right-wingers out there, but be honest. It has to bother you just a touch that some of those cute half-true anti-Hillary memes posted on your Facebook page came from Ivan in Vladivostok. I know you are telling yourself, “No former Commie manipulated me or anyone else that voted for The Donald.” And I did not attend an Enya concert because of a former girlfriend. I went because I like emotionally drenched pointless music that leaves me wanting to open my wrists.   In the future, a good rule of thumb is: if the Russian secret police and the FBI both try to influence the election in favor of a certain candidate, you might want to examine why you’re voting for that candidate.     President-Elect Donald Trump has stated that he does not believe CIA intelligence. If he actually sat through an intelligence briefing, he would tell them that, but he doesn’t need to because he’s smart. Why, when he repeatedly talks about how smart he is, am I reminded of Fredo ranting at Michael about how he is smart in The Godfather II?  “I can handle things! I'm smart! Not like everybody says... like dumb... I'm smart!” The only difference is, it is America getting popped in the rowboat by Al Neri.   Trump is smart, not dumb, but does a smart man believe The National Enquirer when it smears another candidate’s father claiming he was involved in the Kennedy assassination? Does a smart man believe millions of people voted illegally because some whack-a-doddle alt right website claimed such. Does a smart man believe global warming is a Chinese conspiracy. Does a smart man nominate a man who cannot even remember the name of the department he is supposed to head? How about a general as his Secretary of Defense who was fired by the previous president due to incompetency? Maybe a head of Housing and Urban Development that has no background in that area and has never run anything? Who thinks a Cabinet that is wealthier than 33 percent of American households combined is a good idea?   Yeah, I might be missing W. and that vacuous look in his eyes in a few months because, even though he put the horsey show guy [Michael Brown, FEMA deputy Director] in charge of a major agency and screwed up almost everything he touched, at least he tried. His heart was in the right place.   It all makes me think that I am going to wake up some morning mumbling that “there is no place like home”. Samantha Bee will put a cold compress on my head, John Oliver, Stephen Colbert, and Bill Maher will look on. I will babble at David Letterman, Larry Wilmore, and Jon Stewart about this strange land run by a creature that looked like a Cheetos that had been left under the couch for several months. The creature had really tiny hands and a potty mouth, and they were there but they had become mountain men and did not have their television shows anymore. A shirtless Vladimir Putin, riding a horse, had cyber influenced the election. An elderly woman in a pantsuit lost because she could not figure out her email. Almost three million more people voted for her than the Cheetos creature that kept wanting to sell me steaks, neckties, and bottled water. The Cheetos man’s wife sounded like Natasha from The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show but kept blinking in Morse code that she was a prisoner. He said you could grab women like they were a six pack of beer, and that Scott Biao was somehow still a celebrity. I would ask where Trevor Noah was, they would all look at me puzzled, ask who’s that, and I would know that I was in Barack Obama’s America again.