The Rundown

The nationwide campus protests are burying the lead, if you ask me. So far, nobody has asked me so Imma have to supply my damn self. To listen to Trumpists bemoaning all the hatred out there is akin to a Manson family member storming out of a movie theater because the flick was too violent. Sorry but I’m not gonna take lessons in civility from a camp that is plenty fine with their guy imploring security to kick someone’s ass at a rally, or yanno . . suggest that they topple their government. And I won’t side with anyone who spews anti-Semitic garbage or uses violence as an instrument. But let’s face it, hatred and civil unrest has been an American standard for a very long time, so let’s not act surprised as all get out when it happens in 2024.

I didn’t watch a minute of the Tom Brady roast because I’m of the opinion that roasts died with Dean Martin. But the retired Brady is proving, once again, that the greats of every game have foibles, with a capital F. He showed us all just how deflated his balls really are when he trashed Giselle during the Netflix special. We shouldn’t be privy to all the particulars of their marriage gone wrong, but he keeps bringing it up anyway. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he shares three kids with the woman. What part of trashing the mother of your children in front of a bunch of pissed off drunken ‘friends’ and a national audience that includes your three kids seemed like a good idea? And no, this isn’t about making comedy inoffensive because I’m not the sensitive type. But I do believe you leave family out of it and Tom Brady shouldn’t have to be told that. He apologized yesterday and good for him, but this is just another case of someone who is a great talent on the field and a total dick off it.

We checked out the first episode of Ripley on Wednesday and so far, so interesting. The sets alone are worth the price of admission, and filming it in black and white gives the viewer a palpable sense of unease that builds from one scene to the next. A tad slow moving, but I’m okay with that when a story is getting told. You find yourself hanging on every nuanced word, and now I can’t wait to watch more.

As for as movies, we checked out Jerry Seinfeld’s Unfrosted last weekend and it was actually a lot of fun. It doesn’t take itself seriously, and it doesn’t have to! Half of Hollywood is in it, but for my mad money, Jon Hamm and John Slattery stayed in character for their legendary roles in Madmen and nailed their cameos. I loved it, and I never even watched that show! All that with pop culture references from beginning to end? It’s gold Jerry! Gold!

Wait one stinking minute. You mean there’s a very real chance Trump has been lying to us this entire time? The same guy who cannibalized properties all over the map, used up and spit out his closest associates, put his name on a university that defrauded thousands . . . and now sells bibles and gold high-tops? I guess the next thing you’re going to tell me is Tiger Woods was unfaithful in his marriage . . . .

Not to be outdone, RFK Jr. recently divulged that in 2010 a worm entered his brain and ate a portion of it. So I have to assume the part this worm was grubbing on was fairly important to complex thinking, decision making and reasoning. It’s just a laymen’s hunch but I’m going with it.

Now there’s a new report claiming that energy drinks show “damaging’ effects on young adults? I guess the next thing they’re going to tell us is that eating fast food on the regular will greatly increase your chances of entering into a long term relationship with a cardiologist.

Virginia recently became the 12th state to ban the practice of child marriage. Which means that 38 states are still okay with a matrimony that involves at least one individual who is not yet 18 years of age. So in theory, you can be married, have kids and get divorced before you’re eligible to vote. In my day, they called these folks country and western singers.

Did you hear about the grandfather in Sacramento, California who let a homeless woman babysit his 7 year old granddaughter while he went to a bar to get shit faced? No, it’s not an article from the Onion. This really happened. Jason Warren went looking for a complete stranger off the street to watch the little girl so he could get his drink on. Lucky for the little girl and her family that he found Lauren Jope.

Jope told authorities that she took the girl because she knew she could keep her safe, unlike her grandfather. She got the little girl fed and cared for her as she contemplated the situation. Four hours later, Warren had contacted authorities and when Jope got wind of the search, she returned with the girl and gave her statement, which was corroborated by both Warren and his granddaughter.

Warren was booked on felony charges while claiming he did nothing wrong. He says he left the whole thing to God’s will and would do it again. And he’s just the latest creep that wants us to believe what he says rather than what we see. Lauren Jope knows better, the hard way. She deserves to be recognized for doing the right thing, and I know . . I know. You shouldn’t give medals to people who do what should be done, but maybe we should start. Because the Lauren Jopes of this world are getting drowned out by all the forgettable, regrettable and worse. And in a world where the right thing keeps getting harder to come by, she supplied.

If God has a will, she’s in it.

Pulp- Common People

Wordless Wednesday – Reflective

We Have Met The Enemy And Well . . . Yeah

“There’s a kind of freedom in being completely screwed . . .”
– Clark Kellogg in The Freshman

With the national election much too close for comfort, I went fishing for something positive to write about as we hurtle towards Dante’s grill. I found a handful of cocktail recipes which are going to come in handy . . and that’s about it.

My plans, having done a 180, fixed themselves on the entertainment value associated with a world gone batshit crazy. The good news is, there’s an endless supply of entertainment value happening out there. The bad news is, it ain’t gonna save our asses. But at least we’ll be entertained on our way to the fiery pits.

It’s something.

Goat Debates- If I had a dollar for every time some sports talker went all babbling brook on Lebron vs Jordan, I’d be listing my yacht, since . . I don’t dig boats. Of course, no bad idea goes unnoticed so the latest hot takers are pitching Brady vs Mahomes. While I would tune in if they were speculating as to what exactly is going on with their respective do’s, that’s the extent of my interest. The one thing these time fillers have in common is that they are pure and utter nonsense. There is no universal ruler that can measure such proclamations and there never will be. Thank God for hockey, because Wayne Gretzky is the list.

Goat debates are yet another example of our bread and circuses existence, where sports eats up too much of the chrome in our collective calendars, leaving the important shit to rust. But hey, the boob’s already out of the tube at this point so we might as well be entertained, right?

Finding news that is actually . . .news- It’s a fucking task! There are a shit ton of stories on the internet whose verity is shadier than a televangelist’s diary. Most stories are like this. I even find myself fact checking the standards of the news industry these days, and yes, it’s still a fucking task. But I do happen to cull a lot of satire out of the expedition. That shit is going to come in handy during the zombie apocalypse when a Negan like cult-leader asks me to do a five minute standup routine for him with a Glock pointed at my particulars in the event I bomb.

Leave the Julia, take the child- When did too much of a good thing simply become too much? As with the 24/7 sports hamster, this wheel started spinning out of control many moons ago. Left untethered, food shows went supersized and annual competitive eating contests can now be seen on a daily basis. We’ve murdered the culinary arts, like a gluttonous goon squad. Because we can. Our food has become sports, where the biggest and baddest hog the headlines (and waistlines). It reminds me of the first (only) time I tried a deep fried Oreo. Once my cookie chef had completed the task of bathing my treat in attempted homicide, she asked me if I wanted to add powdered sugar and chocolate syrup. Because evidently, deep frying an Oreo ain’t enough for most peeps.

Like I said, we’ve been traveling down this dark desert highway for a long time and there’s little to no chance of us changing our route now. We’re having too much fun while learning next to nothing as we push our big fat ball of shame further down the road. What’s not to love?

We can’t blame OJ or 9/11 . . or even Trump. We can’t blame Covid, as much as we’d love to. We can’t even blame China or TikTok or both! Nope, the plain and mostly simple fact of the matter is that we were heading in the wrong direction long before these public enemies went public.

At least we’ll be recording the fickle on fate for posterity, so that future generations can learn from our mistakes. Yanno, the way we always learn from ours.

Right?07

People react to DUI Laws (1980s News Report)

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Only Thing Better Than A Doughnut Is Two Doughnuts

History is full of holes. Just ask the doughnut.

For the longest time, the history books had us believing that doughnuts first made the scene with the Dutch immigrants who settled in New York back in the 1600’s. Their ‘oil cakes’- a rudimentary version of fried dough balls- helped people forget just how shitty life was back then.

More recently, doughnutologists (because I don’t know what else you would call these people) determined that the history of the doughnut goes back a lot further than that. There’s evidence that the ancient Greeks and Romans grubbed on little fried cakes as far back as the 8th century BC. They would dip their tasty treats in honey, thus becoming the original donut dunkers.

In present day, me and Linds B decided to begin a new foodie search and doughnuts got our attention. Because let’s face it, they get everyone’s attention. It made sense to chart a course for adventure with doughnuts as our destination. After all, these deep fried miracles have undergone remarkable advancements in the last quarter century alone.

Unlike our search for the best Cuban sandwich, the particulars of this journey are going to be much more forgiving given the rules averse domain we’re exploring. If you haven’t been paying attention to doughnut technology, you’ve missed a lot. Doughnut makers have long since tossed out the OG blueprint in favor of an abstract universe where imagination wins.

Our maiden voyage took us to Beiler’s Doughnuts in Lancaster City, Pa. This family run business first made a name for itself in 1985 when they became one of the first Amish merchants to open a stand in Philadelphia’s Reading Terminal Market. I kinda dig the fact they’ve kept it to two locations all this time because the results speak for themselves.

I realize I just got done chatting up the advances in the field of doughnutology (because I don’t know what else you would call the study of doughnuts), but me and Linds kept it simple for our first bite entry. We went with the classic glazed doughnut because we wanted something less encumbered and more straightforward. Just think of us as food science warriors. Or doughnut doctors. You can think both if you so desire.

You’ll notice the rest of this arrangement gets a bit more complicated; Linds went with a glazed creme-filled while I snagged the maple bacon creme-filled with wisps of coconut tucked into its sweet cheeks. The rest of it- a blueberry fritter and a couple of fruity pebbles selections- was going home with Linds for the wife and kids.

We toasted our halved up classic glazed before chowing down, and the first thing that hit us was how pillowy soft the thing was. And from there, it was flavor and the feels hitting the dance floor. It’s why I love the simple things and so I scored it an 8 out of 10. Linds was a little stingier but not much, going for a 7 out of 10. On any scorecard, that’s still a winner.

As for the next bites. Linds scored their glazed creme-filled an 8-10 for being the kind of doughnut that makes habits so damned sexy. I went with a 7-10 on my maple bacon because it was just right with the maple, bacon and coconut on the hood, but the creme filling under it? Too much. Still, Beiler’s made good on its report card and now we’ve gotten this party started.

In the next episode of Doughnut Stop Believing, me and Linds will pair our selections with beer! Okay, maybe not. But then again, it’d probably be amazing, don’t you think?

Stay tuned . . .

The Doughnut Song- Tori Amos

Wordless Wednesday – In the Pink

Marco and Joe Break the News . . . Beyond Repair!

Coming to you live from the Sorryless Studios in Hoboken, New Jersey, it’s time for all the news that’s print in fits. Fair? Decidedly Not. Balanced? Depends on the time of day.

Good morning, this is Marco . .

And this is Joe . . .

We start in New York City where student protesters refused to honor the  deadline set by the administration of Columbia University for clearing their encampment. Protestors are demanding that Israel cease its oppression of the Palestinian people so that Palestine’s rulers can get back to doing the job themselves.

Current President Joe Biden and former President Donald Trump will get back to da campaign trail this week. The GOP challenger has rallies planned in Wisconsin, Michigan and New Jersey while da president will speak in Delaware. Trump is expected to begin his standup routine with some new material, which will include a reference to ‘President Bobblehead’. He will also be offering a signed copy of the Bible for anyone who isn’t afraid of going to hell. Meanwhile, President Biden is expected to share his favorite Netflix shows. 

With the NFL draft in the books, experts have taken to grading each team’s selections, which is an even bigger waste of time than the leadup to the draft. Nevertheless, Caleb Williams of the Bears scored an A in most corners while the Atlanta Falcons selection of Michael Penix Jr. received a failing grade. In lieu of a grade, I am predicting that New York Giants receiver Malik Nabers will be the first player to be arrested on a gun charge. Raiders tight end Brock Bowers will come out as a vegan. And Vikings quarterback J.J. McCarthy will claim that he was Amish in another life.

(Nicky Santoro Straight Up!)

The S&P 500 rose 16 points to 5,116.17. This was fresh off da heels of Wall Street’s best week since last November . . I mean, what da fuck took ’em so long! The Dow Jones and Nasdaq hopped on the party bus as well. A third of all companies on the S&P will announce their profits this week. Earnings have been stronger than expected to this point and I’ll be sending Elon Musk a bottle of Chivas because he kinda saved my ass. It wasn’t all cupcakes and happy horse shit for yours truly, however. Me and my financial advisor had words. Or should I say, I had words with my financial advisor. Enjoy da short video!

A new study by the European Society of Cardiology reports that people in the habit of climbing stairs had a 39% lower likelihood of death from heart disease compared to those who didn’t climb stairs. Stair climbers also had a lower risk of heart attacks and strokes. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking my bottle of wine and my cigar and hitting the steps!

And to close things out, I have a heartwarming tale of fishing, friendship, Bigfoot . . . and murder. 

Larry Doil Sanders was found guilty last week of strangling his fishing buddy Jimmy Knighten in July of 2022. Sanders argued it was self-defense, claiming that his friend was planning on offering Sanders as a sacrifice to Bigfoot. Here to tell us his side of the story is Larry Sanders, who is serving time in an Oklahoma prison while awaiting his sentence. 

Sanders- I have to clarify, I witnessed three sasquatch-like figures standing by the river and my friend Jimmy seemed to be communicating with them.

Joe- Ya think maybe you were communicating with some hallucinogens right before you put Jimmy in a chokehold?

Sanders- I have never interacted with aliens.

Joe- I meant drugs, genius.

Sanders- I was not under the influence at the time, no.

Joe- So dis was just some good old fashioned stupid then?

Sanders- Jimmy was staring at these figures and mumbling to himself. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, it sounded like a foreign language.

Joe- That’s not a defense, yanno. My former associate, Johnny Knuckles used to mumble to himself and he actually was speaking in a foreign language. It didn’t give me the right to kill him and stuff him in a . . . okay that’s a bad example, forget I said anything.

Sanders- I would never have harmed Jimmy if I didn’t believe my life was in danger. He was my best friend. We went four-wheeling and hunting, we would drink beer around a bonfire . . .

Joe- You’se guys are keeping Old Milwaukee in business, which is a crime in itself.

Sanders- We only drank Keystone Premium.

Joe- Of course. I mean, it’s not like you need your colon.

Sanders- That was Jimmy’s line, how’d you know?

Joe- It says you and Jimmy were noodling. Sounds gay.

Sanders- Noodling is when you fish for catfish using only your bare hands and feet.

Joe- I realize times is tough but you couldn’t pick up a fishing pole at Dollar General?

Sanders- Joe I want to be clear, I have never had sex with a man.

Joe- That’s about to change, pal.

Don Henley- Dirty Laundry

Crossing The Rubicon

Las Vegas, June 7 1968

It was always a dame.

Porter Newhouse had always been willing to place a losing bet when it came to the women he fell in love with. His romantic entanglements were a testimonial to how the laws of attraction favored the bold. He was conservative when it came to business, but a liberal when it came to his restless heart. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling like a relic at the tender age of thirty-four. He didn’t fit this brazen new world where populism was sold in record stores and dissent was endemic. These days men were wearing their hair longer than most girls, standup comics had turned George Washington into a skit and the road to nowhere was paved with the ashes of dead leaders.

Convention had been lost to the hippies, with Congress serving as the last stand. These men were the only evidence of a bygone era, sandbagging the storm of revolution in their formulaic suits and service issued buzz cuts. Politics was going the way of Holy Hours and civil defense drills. Pop culture was the new currency, so it was only a matter of time before celebrities were running the halls of power. Hell of a world.

Newhouse yearned for a white picket fence existence, which ran counter to his job as a paid assassin. Mercenaries couldn’t afford such leisure and he was fairly certain this weakness would be his demise. But for a man whose only good habits were red meat and tobacco, mortality was the easiest bargain to reconcile.

As he nursed his Martini into a velvety landing, he got lost in the genius of Engelbert Humperdinck. The new stuff couldn’t touch the sound of this masterful balladeer. Such was the heft of his baritone that the singer famously held his microphone at half an arm’s length so as not to overwhelm his audience. Newhouse torched another Lucky Strike as he marveled at the acoustics inside the grand ballroom at the Las Vegas Hilton. His mellow was crushed when the next selection opined on love’s big price tag.

Judith Exner might have been the love of his life if he’d been born into privilege. The Fort Lee, New Jersey native was the daughter of immigrants and she had lived the retrofitted American dream. Breaking free from the staid and proper habitat of most women of the time, Judy’s marquee unspooled behind closed doors, in the company of powerful men. She had been mistress to a sitting president and she’d run with mob bosses by the time they met at the Brown Derby in the late spring of last year.

He spotted her alone at the bar and made book on her next round, slipping the barkeep a twenty to refashion her swim with some friendly muscle. She belonged to him inside an hour’s time, but she would own him from that first time to the last. Truth be told, she was slumming it with Porter and they both knew it. Their love affair lasted a year, which was just about a year longer than he’d figured on keeping her attention.

Once the show wrapped up, Newhouse got lost in his thoughts as he rode the elevator to his sixth floor hotel room. Thinking about Judy was bad news but it reminded him of the housekeeping he needed to attend to before his field trip went any further. It was time to dial up an old friend who was busy making a name for himself in Hollywood.

“Yannis, it’s Porter . . hey I’m sorry to be calling so late . .”

Porter was one of the few people who got to call John by his birthname. It was a brotherly endearment from their time working intel together in Panama in the early ’50’s.

“What happened to you yesterday?” John asked, trying to sound awake but failing.

“Yeah sorry about that, I had to skip town last minute. I’ll make it up to you next time I’m in LA, steaks at the Smoke House . . on me,”

“Did you hear the news? About Bobby?”

“Yeah,”

“Horrible, just horrible,” John’s voice was wavering as he stifled a cry.

“That’s why I had to get out of town,”

“Please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this,”

“No, but I figured it wouldn’t look great if someone saw me hanging out in the same neighborhood where the future president was taken out. And there are a lot of someones in LA right now,”

“Where were you staying?”

“The Beverly Wilshire,”

“You certainly don’t keep a low profile,”

“Before Wednesday night, I didn’t feel the need, Yannis,”

“What can I do for you, my friend?”

“I’m going to give you the name of a young lady in West Hollywood who works for an apartment house that specializes in repairs for weary travelers and bored married men . .”

“In other words, a whorehouse . .”

“Marie doesn’t appreciate incivility and she accessorizes with a .38 Special so tread carefully with her official title,”

“Porter, we’ve got a baby on the way and my acting career is moving in the right direction so while I am weary, I am most certainly not bored,”

“You misunderstand. I’m simply providing you with her number in the event I were to disappear. Marie is in possession of some rather sensitive information regarding my connection to Dealey Plaza,”

“I’m afraid I am out of my depth on this one. I’d love to help but . .”

“Listen, I wouldn’t be asking if there was anyone else I could entrust with this. All you have to do is tuck it away somewhere. I’d say burn it but for all I know it might end up being the only evidence of my existence. And I’d like to think that maybe there’s a world coming where we let the truth matter again,”

“Why can’t this young lady just keep it then?”

“Because this young lady tends to my particulars above and below the waistline and for this very specific service, I keep her on retainer. Don’t worry, I always pay three months in advance . . just in case,”

“I don’t understand how this is relevant to me,”

“Well, the just in case of this matter means that Marie will honor our agreement until such time as payments cease. After which, that information might grow legs. It’s just my luck that I have nobody to protect in the event my name gets run through the trash compactor, except for . .”

“Your Aunt Irene,” John said, finishing the thought.

Porter’s aunt had raised him after his mother died during childbirth. A divorcee and women’s rights advocate inside a time when both were frowned upon, she became his expectations for every woman he ever met.

“She thinks I’m a successful car salesman because I’m always showing up in a new ride. It would kill her if she knew the truth about me. And we both know hell hath no fury like a government coverup,”

“So why trust this Marie girl in the first place?”

“Well, I’ve found that hookers are every bit as trustworthy as lawyers and accountants so long as they’re getting paid. And I prefer their bedside manner,”

“It’s always a woman with you Porter,”

“Story of my life,”

Engelbert Humperdinck- What Now My Love

 

Come Hail Or High Water, It’s Draft Night!

It’s an NFL world, and every other sport is just living in it.

Don’t believe me? Of the top 100 most viewed programs last year, the NFL was responsible for 93 of them. Not that the shield needs a game to get our attention, because more viewers will tune into tonight’s NFL draft than to the Oscars, the NBA finals or the World Series. Yeah, the league laps those cats even when there’s no game involved. Much like President Nixon, I’m unfamiliar with ninety-nine percent of the draft eligible population. And much like Nixon, I’m still going in.

If you ain’t down with the particulars, it’s all about the quarterback position. Most teams want the next Patrick Mahomes with the problem being, he doesn’t turn two until November. As for the other half dozen clubs, they’re just looking to bolster their rosters so they can lose to the Chiefs in January.

Tonight, fashion will be forward, analysts will transform cartoon into Caravaggio and mistakes will be made. Teams will talk themselves into a quarterback just because he throws a tight spiral in his skivvies and has a firm handshake. It won’t be long before most of these teams are behaving like a Kardashian boyfriend as they attempt to extricate themselves from the situationship. To wit, four of the five quarterbacks taken in the first round of the 2021 draft are no longer with the team that drafted them.

At least the run on QB’s makes some sense because the league’s new way of doing business can make good quarterbacks look great, and if you hit on one you’re set. But wide receivers get the same attention and it’s mind boggling, seeing as how you can skip the diva wideouts and still win big. Brady and Mahomes do it every year.

Imma dish up my top three picks of the NFL draft, after which I’ll simply pull stuff out of my ass. Yanno, the way the experts do it . . .

With the first pick in the 2024 NFL draft, the Chicago Bears select Caleb Williams- Williams is a combination of Patrick Mahomes and The Weeknd in that he can make every throw whilst possessing the vibe of a singer/songwriter. If the kid shows out the way most experts predict, Chitown will have its first honest to goodness franchise QB in its 102 year existence. In a sports town that regales in breaking 100 year droughts, he fits.

With the second pick, the Washington Commanders select Jayden Daniels- Draftniks are divided on whether Daniels should be the first QB taken. Alls I know is that his arm morphs into something extra-terrestrial whenever he drops back to pass. If you need a QB, he might be your guy. If you need a Transformer in the event of an alien invasion, set the launch code and go!

With the third pick, the New England Patriots select Drake Maye- I’ve never seen the show Riverdale but I imagine this kid would fit right in. Yanno, the star quarterback with a bright future whose dad’s a lawyer and whose mom’s a hot influencer. Is he a legitimate top tier quarterback? No idea. But hey, Hollywood’s always a solid fallback.

Some are predicting we could see as many as six quarterbacks taken in the first round of this year’s draft, which would tie the record set in 1983. The last quarterback taken in that round was a guy named Dan Marino. Further proof that the greatest football minds in the world are throwing darts at the wall and praying.

As for how the rest of the night will go, I’ve got some thoughts . . .

The coolest name- It’s gotta be Kool-Aid McKinstry, but Rome Odunze and Jared Verse? Respect.

There’ll be more than one dumb team- You can bet Shohei Ohtani’s money that several teams will take a chance on a player with a checkered past, and end up paying dearly for it.

Michigan QB J.J. McCarthy is a nice boy- And most fathers would be thrilled to have him as their son-in-law. As their franchise quarterback? Not so much. It’s not the kid’s fault he’s vaulted up the boards because that’s the nature of the beast when it comes to the draft. A few months ago, he was penciled in as a probable third round project. Through over-analysis and desperation, he’s moved up fifty spots and is seen by many as a top 10 choice. I may not know much about this stuff, but this I do know. You never take low ceilings this high unless you wanna get fired.

The New York Jets will forego insurance for the Lambo- The Jets love bright shiny toys like few other clubs not named the Raiders. They should pick an offensive lineman to help protect old man Rodgers, but where’s the fun in that? Instead, they’ll probably go for a tight end or wideout . . and finish third

The Chargers will forego the Lambo for insurance- New head coach Jim Harbaugh loves no-name grinders because he understands the trenches is where it’s at.

San Francisco will find an all-pro late in the first round

Miami . . . will not

And last but most certainly not least . . .

Chiefs fan will be bored tonight- After which their team will make another deep playoff run that probably ends with a third straight title.

Tom Petty- It’s Good To Be King

 

 

 

 

 

Wordless Wednesday – Feelin’ Purple

Crossing The Rubicon

It’s the day after our concert/town hall with Taylor and Bradley and the numbers are in. To put it simply, they are . . .

“Shit!”

Ann Curry’s softer side went out of business with her departure from that morning show gig with Peacock-sucker Matt Lauer. Personally, I prefer the grittier version to her chamomile and cupcakes persona. Check that, I prefer the grittier version when she’s not throwing haymakers in my direction.

“We’re not gaining any traction with this faux-show run for the yellow roses, Ann. Taylor and Bradley running for office was going to be a long shot but the two of these kids running for nothing at all doesn’t resonate in a country that only relates to taking sides,”

“Thank you for the updated weather forecast, Captain Obvious! So what in the hell are we supposed to do now that the universe is ghosting us? I know! We can make like that west coast cult that blasted off together without a space ship back in the ’90’s, what was their name?”

“Heaven’s Gate,” I say, because my brain is a fucking warehouse when it comes to otherwise forgettable shit.

“Yes, them. We’ll get a group discount on Nike sneakers and track suits and then toast with vodka martinis and barbiturates!”

“The difference is, while those assholes were operating as if they had nothing to lose, we’re losing as if we have nothing to operate. And now we’re a production company without a production,”

As soon as I finish my thought I realize I’ve said too much. Again. And I don’t have any barbiturates to get me out of it.

“What does that mean?”

“Okay, how bad would it be if we lost Taylor or Bradley?” I ask.

“Bad is all relative at this point Marco. I mean, our town hall last night was trending. As a drinking game,”

“Fair enough,”

“Why?”

“I was just curious,”

“Who’s bowing out?”

“Which would be worse?” I ask.

“Either one would be worse, who’s  . . dropping . . out?”

“Both?”

“I’m going to remain calm while I ask you the following question but rest assured, if you deflect, delay or deny me the truth . . I will make Jack Bauer look like a kindergarten teacher,”

“No pressure, I get it,”

“You’re telling me they’re both out? You’re telling you knew they were both out and you didn’t start this phone call by telling me that? And when exactly did you learn about this and when did you plan on letting me in on this?”

“That’s a lot of questions, AC . . . so I mean, I’ll do my best to remember them all but I can’t make any promises . . .”

“When did you know?!”

“I knew this morning. And the reason I didn’t tell you right off is because I was planning on surprising you with the news,”

“Let me get this straight. You’ve known about this for hours but you were holding onto it so that you could surprise me with the shitty news later? And when is later? And . . . more importantly why is there a later?”

“Again, lots of questions. Long story shortest, I don’t know?”

“What part don’t you know?”

“I don’t know what the news is AC,”

“So you were planning on surprising me with news you don’t have,”

“Well it sounds ridiculous when you say it like that,”

“Okay, what do you know?” AC growls.

“We have a candidate, an actual running for president candidate,”

“Who?”

“I have no idea. That’s the news I was gonna dish up . . . once I knew of course,”

“Hell on a popsicle stick, this must be what the Dukakis campaign felt like. But I guess we had it coming huh?”

“We all have it coming, AC .  .”

Tom Waits- God’s Away On Business