Category: News

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Weekends Are Meant To Be Relaxing. Right?


Weekends are made for chilling out, napping, reading, yard work, gardening, listening to vinyl records, and other mundane pursuits. To start off a lovely sunny Saturday, I find banks are failing in California and other branches across the US and Europe.

Tech upstarts and shady banking boardroom skullduggery are the culprits, and they remind me of the classic movie, “It’s A Wonderful Life.” The banking boys in California are like the greedy Mr. Potter and his henchmen. After the run on the banks, George Baily’s Building and Loan may still be open for business, but that one dollar in his safe will not save him. Potter will, in the end, own Bedford Falls, even though the movie doesn’t show that. There should have been a sequel, but Frank Capra and Jimmy Stewert weren’t up to it. Finding out how Clarence the Angel made out after he received his wings would have been nice.

Is my IRA and retirement safe? Not in the least. Our current administration wants to add a higher tax, steal more from Social Security, and in general, cause the economy to implode and make life miserable for us seniors. I don’t care to live on the streets in a tent under a bridge, smoking crack and pissing on the sidewalk. Seniors now were the 60s generation of protesters, so why can’t we organize, protest in DC and facilitate change to save our own butts and those of our children and grandchildren. I, for one, would be willing to risk a bit of teargas and hard rubber bullets. I would use my sturdy aluminum Walmart cane as my weapon of dissent, burn my Cigna Plan D prescription card on the steps of the White House and chain myself and my personal scooter to a light pole. I can recruit my friend Mooch and his pals, the Granbury “Plowboy’s,” to come along. They’re continually pissed off at everything, so this would be a nice excursion for them, as long as a Waffle House is within walking distance of the march.

I read this morning that the American Red Cross organization, the ones that are there when tornadoes and floods hit the south, is distributing leaflets, maps, cash, credit cards, and investment advice to illegal immigrants in Central America and Mexico, showing how to cross the border in style and obtain free services once they break into our country. Come on in, free stuff for everyone, except American senior citizens, and our homeless. You might as well put Biden on the international bridge with a bullhorn shouting directions and other demented nonsense. No more donations from me and the missus to this traitorous group of wokies. I would say they are now more “Red” than “Cross.”

I am considering withdrawing and depositing my legal tender in the Bank Of Sterns and Foster.

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“Influence-inza,” Making Folks Sick, One Video At A Time


I am not easily influenced by anyone or anything. Putting a pretty gal with Kardashian eyebrows, trout lips, and a big butt on social media is not going to make me buy any product or service she is pushing. I am immune to such nonsense. Please excuse the first word in the title; I made that up and happen to think it’s appropriate.

Apparently, the younger folks latch onto these women known as “influencers” like they are their long-lost-fairy godmothers. How can a young woman, or someone pretending to be a woman, it’s difficult to tell these days, tell anyone to stick their head in a freezer for an hour, and it will take away their facial wrinkles? Oh my, but it may also give you frostbite, and you might lose your nose, ear, or even eyesight. Who are you gonna call ( my apology to Ghostbusters), the “influencer” chick or 911?

“Like wow Doc, like I tried really-really hard to call the influencer girl to help me, but her Tik Tok number is not listed, I can’t find my phone…have you seen my phone….oh no…I’m going into withdrawl.” says the dumbass teenager to the emergency room doctor.

Who are these people on social media, Tik Tok, Instagram, Facebook, and Youtube, and all the other platforms? Has our society gone so low as to believe what a “faked-out” extraterrestrial-looking person/thing says or, worse yet, instructs you to do? I have read articles from good and reasonable professional sources that the majority of these young women/things are as stupid as pasta noodles but not so stupid as to make millions of dollars in the process. Who watches this drool? Would you believe our children, pre-teens, and teenagers, even college-educated, supposedly intelligent twenty-somethings, with or without a paying job? That is their core audience. I’ve watched a few of them on Youtube to see what the fuss is about. There is no fuss, only stupidity, narcissism, and worshiping at the “church of social media,” Pastor Zuckerberg officiating and leading the service.

It came to me in the middle of the night. The Kardashian women are responsible for this scourge on society. They have turned American teens into a warped, weird version of themselves while making gazillions in cash and influencing our young. Look at the women on television. Our local news outlets have female presenters who look strangely like a Kardashian; big butts, swollen lips, and large, clownish eyebrows. I can’t get through the five-o’clock newscast without turning my television off. It makes me yearn for the 1980s newscasters, as bad as that was.

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Rantings and Observations From The Cactus Patch


Our illustrious president, ‘ol’e shuffling Joe,’ made a surprise secret squirrel visit to Ukraine by plane, first in the dead of night, then taking the Orient Express to Kyiv. It’s unknown why he chose to visit the war- engulfed country. Political speculators on both sides of the aisle of crooks suspect he will ship another C130 cargo plane full of taxpayer dollar bills to rebuild every demolished structure in the country. Zelensky is so excited he is dancing the Ukranian “spring maiden shuffle” as he saunters alongside our demented leader. Back in Moscow, Puti-Putte is getting ready to ramp things up; maybe send in a missile or two to scare ol’e Joe and Ukrains favorite funny man, Zelensky.

Meanwhile, back home in “our country,” Mayor Butterboy and his crew have yet to make it to East Palestine, Ohio, to witness the eco-tragedy caused by the derailing of multiple freight cars full of toxic chemicals. FEMA and the “suddenly uninterested” EPA, the guys that think every puddle of rainwater and stock tank belongs to them, says the town is “on your own; We must in all haste now go to Africa for a 7-day conference on why the constantly poor Africans have no food, water, or money.” A good rock to look under for spiders and snakes would be those countries’ leaders who take the money the US gives them and live like king Faruk or a Saudi Prince. We can assume that as soon as Mayor Butterboy pumps enough breast milk for his kids to survive for a few days, he will do a “drive-by” on his new mountain bike and then release his standard word salad statement full of wilted contents and no meat. Wildlife and domestic animals are dying, creeks and soil are ruined, groundwater will be affected, and humans are getting sick. “Nothing to see here, folks; move along, please.” Why isn’t good old NBC Lester Holt reporting from the scene with his sleeves rolled up and a shovel in his hand; wrong kind of tragedy, the wrong state, a conservative town, and low-income country folk; not his bag. He’s also sure that no soul in that town watches his newscast. Former President Trump will visit the town on Wednesday. Not certain what he can or will do, but at least the man is doing what a president should in a crisis.

Those pesky young liberal college and high school students in Austin are at it again. Street racing, rioting in a mass gathering of youngsters throwing things that explode at Police cars, and breaking into and destroying a private home for a ‘mansion party. Fellow Texans, these are young high school, mostly white kids doing this, not Black Lives Matter hoodlums running through the streets of Portland. We should ask ourselves, “what in the hell has happened to the young people of our country?” Social Media, bad parenting, and liberal schooling take a large piece of this society’s poison pie. The “everybody gets a trophy” generation grew up and became these little devils. I never cared much for Austin, not even in my long-haired fake hippie days. Since my once favorite magazine, Texas Monthly, has gone to hell in a wokie handbasket,’ I don’t see myself ever visiting that crime-ridden forsaken city again. I know folks that live there and wonder why they stay? It’s not the Austin I knew in the 70s. Maybe because they can swim topless in Barton Springs during the summer or attend the SXSW music festival and smoke a lot of righteous weed.

Did I say too much? Probably so.

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Nothing To See Here..Next Question?


Where are Mayor Buttercup, President Biden, Speaker McCarthy, Jim Jordon, AOC, Crosby Stills and Nash and Young ( the song Ohio), Madonna, and all the other mouthpieces for environmental warfare? Ohio has a major environmental disaster ongoing, and the mainstream media and the administration are silent. Where are the dozens of environmental groups that rag-ass every industry in our country to the point of extremism? This disaster in Ohio is akin to a nuke set off in a small town of 5000 residents. Animals are dying as far as ten miles from the town, and who knows what future effects it will have on humans. East Palestine, Ohio, is now a toxic wasteland that may or may not be habitable.

From ABC News; State health officials were initially concerned about the presence of vinyl chloride, a highly volatile colorless gas produced for commercial uses, which spilled after about 50 cars on a Norfolk Southern Railroad train derailed in East Palestine, Ohio, on Feb. 3 while traveling from Illinois to Pennsylvania. Other toxins, like phosgene and hydrogen chloride, were emitted in large plumes of smoke during a controlled release and burn, prompting officials to issue mandatory evacuation orders in a one-mile radius of the crash site.

Butterboy sits in Washington doing and saying nothing. Where are the Republicans on this? Everyone is quiet. They would rather concentrate on Chinese spy balloons and UFOs, which our government has denied existed for years. Now ET will be pissed, and who knows what will happen. He definitely will be phoning home for reinforcements.

Maya Sharona, head reporter for NPR News, says that Mayor Pete and a small contingent plan to ride their new mountain bikes to Ohio to review the disaster. Now that should make everyone feel better.

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“A Small Rant From A Half-Assed Invalid”


I haven’t ranted on anything of value lately, but the news on that flat-screen thing is driving me to something, and I don’t thinks it’s good.

Classified files at Trump’s art deco digs, Biden’s Deleware home, and now they think at his beach house and his “so called” private office. Now we have ex-VP Pence with papers at his house. To be fair, is anyone looking at Hillary’s, Obama’s, and Bush’s? Hell, my house could be next. The witch trials are on, and the minions are building the log fire and cross. Someone is going to burn for this one. Who will it be? Perhaps all of the above if justice is blind, which we know it is not.

I walk with a cane now. It’s not a fancy one like a proper southern gentleman would possess; it’s a shiny aluminum job from the Walmart. I used a few beautiful wooden canes that belonged to my wife’s late father, but I broke one and severely injured another. She has one left, and I won’t touch it since it’s an heirloom.

Since my back operation in August caused the drop foot and the unruly right leg, the cane is my savior. I’ve found it helpful on my shopping trips to H.E.B. with my wife. I’m not allowed to go on my own since I can’t drive with a bum foot, and she doesn’t believe me when I tell her that my cane acts as a good pusher for the accelerator. So, we go as a team. With my gimp foot and leg, I clumsily push the cart, and she grabs the stuff and fills the cart. I am also there as a moderator, keeping her from purchasing too many expensive goodies. Beef is $ 15.00 per pound, and Chicken is $16.00 per pound, so we eat pork or no meat at all. She slipped some New York steaks in the basket last week; hid them under some other items. I’m slipping.

Back to the cane, it’s also useful as a weapon. Any unruly shopper that bumps into me, or my cart, gets a whack from my righteous staff, with me yelling, ” I’m walking here,” the cane, and seeing I am a half-assed invalid, adds to the drama, which usually scares the poor offender into retreat. My poor wife has nothing to say; it would do no good anyway.

“I yam, what I yam,” as Popeye would say.

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Washington Is Screwed


Things in Washington are screwed to the max. Old man Biden is being eaten alive by the press that ran interference for him all of his 40 years in office. Secret documents stashed next to his hipster Corvette. Home Depot boxes are full of “for your eyes only” secret squirrel shit. Was it Dementia or everyday stupidity? The newsboys smell blood in the dirty Potomac. The low tide stinks of scandal, and Watergate boys are considering coming out of retirement for one last show. Old NBC Lester sees his chance to win a Pulitzer, that’s if he can beat out that green-eyed devil bitch on CBS news, and that metro-sexual chap on ABC. With some form of grace, the only way out for Biden is to politely expire at the podium; at least then, he would get somber news coverage and a state funeral, and his son would take the rap for the corrupt family. That smiling Chinese dictator devil would send a lovely flower arrangement and a few million bucks to his widow, Not A Doctor, Jill. He will be elevated to sainthood if the old Italian deviant in red shoes approves the anointment. It’s about time we get fed the real deal.

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Resolutions Are Made To Be Broken


The night of January 2, 2023, I resolved not to write about politics. It was 2 am in the morning, and I was lying in bed fretting about the news I had watched earlier in the day. There is no “good news”; it’s all bad, given to use in small doses by people on my television screen that couldn’t talk their way out of a robbery without a teleprompter.

I vow to take immediate action to mend my mind and soul from the poison I am fed daily at 5:30 pm. I fought the compulsion to limp to my recliner and write a scathing blog post about the current suicidal condition of our country, but I stayed in my warm bed. Sarcasm can wait until breakfast.

Goodbye, old Lester Holt. Your suits are lovely and fit you well, but you are a liar, and I would readily join you for ten million dollars a year. You have no backbone or conscience as you continue spitting bullshit into the camera. I’m done with you and the others. You know, the nice-looking news anchor women with perfect hair, white teeth, and store-bought breast. I will give them one compliment: they don’t resemble a Kardashian woman.

I began to read The Fort Worth Press when I was a child, 9 years old, to be exact. Reading books came to me naturally, and so the newspaper was also. Starting with the comics, then sports, and from there, real news, the front page. Bad news makes for a good readership. The writers at the Press understood this. The front page was their “kill shot.”

I wanted to be a writer like the men in the newsroom, typing on their Underwood machine while smoking an unfiltered Camel and downing lousy coffee with a shot of Old Crow added for flavor. My earlier quest to be Mark Twain didn’t work out, so this would be the next best thing. I let my father know of my intentions, which led him to remind me that last year I had wanted to be a Good Humor man with my own ice cream truck. He was right, but a kid can change professions daily. I was years away from holding a job.

My mothers’ ancient typewriter weighed at least a hundred pounds. It had belonged to her sister, that once had aspirations of being the next Ayn Rand but lost interest in becoming an author when she married a college professor that was an author. It gave me a hernia around my young groin when I heaved it onto the kitchen table. I rolled a sheet of paper from my Big Cheif tablet into the machine, ready to start my first article that will be mailed to the Press.

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Who You Gonna Call?


When the juvenile name-calling has stopped, and the fossilized Republicans gather in their lyre to consider their candidate, who do they have? Trump or DeSantis? That’s it, kiddies. No one left with enough charisma to hold up to being a candidate. Biden can’t run because of a brain malfunction, and Hillary is so damn evil not even a Democrat would vote for her. So, Mr. Hollywood, Gavin Newsome is their only hope.

Trump’s already declared his intentions with a great speech. Instead, whether we like him or not, DeSantis will most likely issue a statement within a few days.

Trump has the bulldog tenacity and sharpest teeth, but DeSantis has the second coming of the “ghostly Kennedy family” working for him, even though he is a conservative. It’s damn right scary. The only thing missing is the compound at Hyannisport and loading up the Mafia with cash.

McConnell is a disgrace, and McCarthy is likely to bumble-dumble all he attempts, even though he has a very nice haircut. Let us hope he has the balls to have Pelosi removed from the building by the Capitol Police. She deserves no better.

I’m going to Half Price Books and Barnes and Noble and load up. At least reading good books will keep my mind off of this clown show.

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Camelot 2.0


As a kid, I remember reading Life and Look Magazine about the new Camelot and the youthful president and his family that occupied that white castle. Every woman on the street wore her hair like Jackie.

The Kennedy family was the national portrait of the nation; the youngest man ever to serve as president, rich and with a beautiful wife, and kids, it was almost like a Norman Rockwell painting. Life, Look and Newsweek magazines could report on nothing else.

Gone was the old bald-headed soldier and frumpy wife, FDR, and Trueman was but a memory, and the world had changed in the blink of an eye. The Cold War with Russia was running full speed as was the race for dominance of outer space. We were headed for the moon within the decade; and by damn he kept his word, even though he was not there to share the jubilance. The world was eaten up with The Kennedy family.

Enter 44-year-old Ron and Casey DeSantis and their three beautiful children. You could say “Camelot 2.0” has arrived, but DeSantis is a Republican, as Kennedy probably would have been if he were governing today. I wonder if DeSantis has checked on the availability of the old Kenndey family yacht.?

The Republicans need to huddle and consider this one. Lightning can strike twice and Camelot 2.0 might not be a bad idea.

The current president will soon be cabbage soup and Trump will turn eighty in office, so old does not make one the best candidate. Pelosi will be president within a year, and that was the plan from the get-go.

The poor Republicans are stuck in political Hell and can’t find the ladder.

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“Remember The Good old Days?”


Now I’m sounding like my grandfather ” remember the good ole day’s” for whatever point he was trying to make. Now I am him.

Remember the good old days when people actually took the time to set before a keyboard and answer your emails instead of using one word or a stupid little picture of a beer or a heart or some other useless bullshit like that.

I send a lengthy email to a few friends of mine. Nothing that was a novella or a short story, just some questions, and recollections. What did I receive, ” an emoji and “sent on my iPhone” I almost had a stroke. I spent thirty minutes composing an easily readable, edited, and entertaining email, and I get a thumbs-up crap from a smart-ass phone.

No more; I will send one word or a cute little picture and let them figure it out.

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