“Moreover, the entire project at times feels like product-placement for Trump’s various assets. Contestants stay at the Trump Towers and speak of him in hushed, reverent tones, fretting about what to name their teams in order to impress him.” Variety review of The Apprentice Jan. 4, 2004.
The groveling subservience and worship of Trump by many of his subordinates began almost immediately. Who can forget 1st chief of staff, Reince Priebus, groveling before his boss at the first cabinet meeting. Before starting, Trump went around the table and gave his appointees a chanced to tell the media what a swell guy he was.
In the War of 1812, Francis Scott Keys wrote The Star-Spangled Banner, a tribute to our flag kept aloft by patriots who sacrificed their lives every time it was knocked down one perilous night by withering cannon fire from 100 + British Men of War anchored off Fort McHenry. The Fort was not a full-fledged military establishment and contained many families with abundant women and children but that was immaterial to the invaders.
On Jan. 6, X-President Trump’s shock troops turned our flag upside down and used their poles to stab, maim, and kill police, hunt legislators they could murder, and desecrated the U.S. Capitol a stone’s throw from the White House the British burned during the same War of 1812. Men and women in the hundreds of thousands have died under our flag to preserve freedom and our way of life. It’s a time of choosing whether we are Americans, or worshipers of pagan god.
In the first year of the nineteen twenties, when many of our grandparents were alive, people wore masks to protect themselves from the Spanish Flu. Some went so far as to put them on house cats to protect the mousers.
By: Mike Malak
As one of his first acts, Joe Biden should preemptively pardon Donald Trump from a cornucopia of offenses about which we are obligated to presume his innocence unless,and until it is adjudicated to be otherwise.
His niece, Mary, blames the president's father Fred, the Machievelli of public housing in Queens, for the leaky conscience that gave Trump permission to cage children at the border, cavort with dictators, and try to execute as many people as he can before the last of his Diet Cokes is carted away from 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.
Everyone with common sense, by now, has realized that their resolutions for the New Year are headed for another heap of aspirational disappointment. The pundits, as is their want, saw a future no more reliable than what the Oracle of Delphi’s spake.
The problem with seers, Nostradamus and client scientists excepted, is that they divine for the short
From and leave the breadth of human history to the halls of academia, and Oliver Stone. We’ve decided to help and offer a view of humanity in these United States for the decade of the 20’s. They will be roaring, but not with happiness.
If he ever gambled at a blackjack table you can be sure that if Donald Trump was dealt a pair of tens, or better, he’d split them and double down. If nothing else, the last three years have revealed that Trump doesn’t play for chump change. Though some of his bets defy conventional wisdom, and are patently harmful, he’s all in all of the time. The pending impeachment trial in the Senate gives Trump a huge opportunity to exercise his intuition, survival instincts, and the New York doggedness that won him fame and (perhaps) fortune.
BEFORE we get to the business at hand, we want to hear from the Senate Minority Leader, Chuck Schumer, as to which Democratic Senator gets to rise for the point of order that the Majority Leader, Mitch McConnell, must recuse himself from acting as a juror in the matter of The Impeachment of Donald J. Trump for High Crimes and Misdemeanors.
McConnell is married to Elaine Chao, Trump’s Secretary of Transportation and, by reason of the pecuniary aspects of that relationship, must recuse himself from any participation in Trump’s trial as a matter of both common and statutory law. There is no doubt that a loss of employment for Chao would hurt Mitch in the pocket, sufficient reason for even greater men than he to vote the sawbuck ticket when it comes to their own fanny packs.
“Mr. President, with you all roads lead to Fordham.” Before Donald Trump got his academic bona fides at Penn, with its acclaimed Wharton school, he spent two years at Fordham University in the Bronx. Close to his home, and run by the Jesuits, it is a fine school, by all reasonable standards, even if it isn’t Ivy League. In fact, the only reason it deserves mention, since the University keeps its Trump affiliation mostly to itself, is a partial responsibility for gaps in the president’s knowledge of history,
Bernie Sanders attempt to beat the clock hit midnight when the indefatigable campaigner suffered a heart attack. He’s vowed to trudge on, but the handwriting is on the wall. The last ailing man elected president was FDR, and there has yet to be anyone like him on the American stage.
It’ll be Lindsay Graham’s job to trek from the hill to the White House and tell Donald Trump that it’s time to pack up and go. To sweeten the pot, Graham will inform the president that the GSA has approved a Trump Presidential Library in the lobby of every building bearing the ex-president’s name.