Category Archives: What would Jesus say?

Ack, Sen. Corker Agrees with Me re: Trump Castrating Cabinet


Except I said it first.  Sen. Corker, you’re stealin’ my premise. (This is just an updated previous post from 4/27/17 in which I raised the same issue–Trump’s neutered males). Because the way the men in the Trump adminstration are publicly scolded, badmouthed, slimed, denigrated, taunted and generally disrespected by their incompetent and embarrassingly ill-behaved master would only be tolerated by someone with no balls.

So I’ve been wondering–will all the Trump administration’s neutered
males–Priebus, Sessions, Mattis, Pence, Tillerson, Spicer, et. al.–get their balls back after they leave office? (Okay, Spicer and Priebus probably never had any, but what about the rest?  They were once high testosterone males.) And where are those testicles stored anyway? (Al Gore’s lockbox?) Or were they just thrown out with the rest of the trash?

Granted, most of the castrati are so old that they probably weren’t using
those balls for much anyway, except possibly to scratch occasionally, for
old times’ sake. But the way these guys let Trump humiliate them suggests
that whatever manhood they still possessed had to be checked at the
metaphorical door to their new positions, as a condition of employment.

Some of the president’s paid lackeys used to have some pride, sense of self,
and independence. Now they’re just a sad, pathetic bunch of saluting,
heel-clicking old castrati who have apparently sold their manhood
for–what?

Still, it could be worse. Über sack-shrinker Hillary could have been elected.
Just the sound of her voice is enough to make a red-blooded male’s testicles
ascend to the refuge of their owner’s thorax and huddle behind the ribs in
fear. There’s no guarantee she would even have hired any manly men
anyway.

What would Jesus say?

“You weenies don’t deserve the balls Dad and I gave ya.  You don’t hear about me badmouthing my apostles do ya?  And look what they did to me.”

 

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Serial Plotter Bannon Takes on Devil Dog/Gyrene Gen. John Kelly


Predictably, Bannon lost.

What the hell was he thinking? A sleazy mouthpiece who served as a desk
jockey in the Navy vs. a Gold Star Marine dad who led combat troops in
Iraq–who would you put your money on? Duuuh.

Aha ha ha ha ha ha ha. There ya go Bannon, how’d that work out?

Just as I will always put my money on the red-blooded American male–of any color–that goes in spades for Marines. I once dated a USMC JAG Captain, who was a hooker on the Marine rugby team. Jeez, when waitresses would come to
take his order and he’d look up, they would always take a step back. He just
exuded menace. And he was just a non-combat Captain. Presumably Gen.
Kelly is infinitely more dangerous.

Thank you Gen. Kelly for liberating Mr. Bannon.

Here’s a new career choice I think Bannon would be good at. He should be
organizing bum fights beneath overpasses to scrounge up enough pocket
change to afford a bottle or two of Thunderbird.

The very thought that Bannon might be able to take on Kelly and win is
laughable. Gen. Kelly has done us all a favor by removing that painful
carbuncle Bannon from our collective ass. Yeay!

What would Jesus say?  Hoo Ah.

Why KKK Folks Choose to Wear Dunce Caps


It’s always been something of a mystery why any group would voluntarily
pick dunce caps as part of their official uniform. But the KKK chose
long ago to include that traditional insignia of stupidity as emblematic of
their beliefs and world view.

Now, after the last few days, it’s obvious why they made that choice. They revere ignorance, stupidity and brainless violence.  They celebrate it.  They obviously want to present themselves to the world as dummies and dunces because they are proud of it.

Nothing says “duh, I’m an idiot” like voluntarily wearing dunce caps–in public no less.  It sends a message all right–that is, that they like being dumb and ignorant. They don’t just approve it, they actually applaud it.  They work at it.

Here in America I suspect that under normal circumstances the KKK has
nothing to do with most of our lives.  Their kind of living isn’t even on our
collective radar screen.  Or at least it wasn’t until the last few days.

That’s changed.  They have pushed their unwanted, ugly ways into our
lives.

When the KKK’s demented knuckledraggers say they “will take back our country” what they really mean is that they want to take our country, and the values “we the rabble” hold dear, away from us.

Too bad.  It’s not “their” country to take.  It belongs to all of us, whether they like it or not.

F–k them!  They can’t have what belongs to all of us.  Maybe we’re the ones who should “take back our country” from the altRight, the nazis and the KKK.   Maybe they need to find someplace else to practice their backwards ways.  Maybe we should confine them somewhere so they can’t continue disrupting and infecting our public life.

I hear Alcatraz is empty, and difficult to escape.

There ya go KKK boys and girls. I’ve found the perfect spot for you.

No, no, don’t thank me.  Glad to be of help.  Now, please–leave!

And BTW, KKK, Jesus does NOT love you.

What would Jesus say?  “Crush them like the icky bugs they are..”

 

Apocalypse Wow–Riding Windsurfer Bill’s Honda 90 in a Caribbean Hurricane


Life in America is way too constrained.  There’s too much pressure to conform in oh so many ways, despite our unsupported belief that here in the USA we are wild, free and nonconformist.

So I happened to be thinking wistfully about the time Windsurfer Bill rode up to my place in the Caribbean, on his Honda 90, in the middle of a hurricane.  He burst in and said excitedly; “All the boats are draggin’ anchor in Chocolate Hole.  Wanna go get some champagne and watch expensive boats crash?”

It sounded like fun so I said sure.  Now, at the time, I was living up in Bethany on a dirt road which was steep, full of rocks, and would wash out during the infrequent rains. It was no simple thing for Bill to have gotten his underpowered little vehicle up that road in a damn hurricane either!  That boy had some onions.

Who wouldn’t jump at a chance for an adventure like that?  So I hopped on the back of Bill’s tiny motorbike, sans helmet of course, and we rode into town (Cruz Bay) and went to the deli/restaurant at Mongoose Junction to get some Dom Perignon.  (What else would you drink to watch an apocalypse?)

Tom, the owner, had just closed up.  After we explained why we needed a bottle of Dom he allowed as how he just happened to have one on ice in the back of his jeep that he’d be willing to part with in support of such a good cause.  “I always carry one” he said “in case I get lucky”.  Tom must have been a boy scout at some time to take preparedness to that level.

So we got the champagne and had a fairly harrowing ride up to Bill’s place, which was up a much steeper and rockier road than mine.  Since he lived right at the top of a big hill on the south side shoreline, it was blowin’ like snot up there.  Huge things were flying through the air and, in fact, millions of dollars worth of sailboats were already being pounded against the beach like cockroaches that accidentally wandered into a flamenco fiesta.

It was grand!  We hauled out a couple of chairs, plunked down on the deck and sipped the Dom until it ran out.  Then we switched to a more plebian Cold Duck, or something along those lines, and got fairly tipsy from the alcohol and the wildly dynamic scene playing out for our fun and amusement.  It was soooo fun!  It was like the end of the world but without pain–the wind was screaming, roofs were coming apart, the sea was smashing everything that was in its way, and the noise was deafening.   It was chaos incarnate, if a hurricane can be said to be an incarnation.

People don’t do stuff like that here.  Here they prepare seriously and take precautions. But that was the glory of St. John back in the day.  People did things with panache and free spirited attitudes.  (Once  a St. Johnian sank his new–and very expensive–boat, but stayed on board since part of it was still out of the water.  A friend of his had a case of champagne delivered to the stranded sailor via helicopter.  (No word on whether he thought to report the sunken boat–we’d all heard about it from another boatie.)

Recently I re-connected with an old friend/colleague from the St. John days. He wrote a novel about St. John at that time, in order to memorialize a golden moment when, as Sarah Palin wistfully noted once, people were free.  I asked if he remembered when I tried to shoot his dog, and he laughed that, yes, as a matter of fact, he did.  The name of the book is Back Time in Love City & it definitely, even definitively, captures the zeitgeist of that time and place.  I would recommend it to anyone who has ever dreamed of jumping their traces and taking off into an unknown place for adventure.

One time I rode my big race horse into that iconic Cruz Bay pub, the Back Yard.  She was huge, very high strung and prone to going into wild frenzies of hysteria where she would buck and kick and race around trying to chase any human who crossed her path.  So I rode her up to the packed bar and Dougie Sica didn’t blink an eye, just said, “What’ll ya have?”  Kamikazes seemed appropriate for that particular moment.  So I sat on my big horse and drank kamikazes at the bar, then rode her on out and went home.  Neither of us wore shoes.

Ya can’t do stuff like that in America anymore, except maybe out west or in Texas.  Nope, now and here, decorum is required and one must comport oneself in a manner that couldn’t possibly offend anyone.  Yeah, God forbid that anyone might have their delicate sensibilities offended.  I’m pretty sure there must be a clause in the Constitution about that.

So I sigh and plod on, bereft of any scintilla of spontaneity or free-spiritedness.  We don’t approve of such things in America anymore.  More’s the pity.  But at least I know what it means to have been free, wild and stupid enough to have adventures, to do stuff people wouldn’t approve of.  Sad to say I don’t think all that many Americans get to have that luxury anymore.

What would Jesus say?  “Did ya like my storm?”

Sigh.  I miss being free.

 

What Would Jesus Think of Watching Golf on TV?


I was watching the US Open golf tournament this afternoon.  It was
too rainy and stormy to go outside and I’ve already seen all the reruns of CSI
Miami–the only remotely interesting program on the 90 or so available viewing channels.

Now, I can understand people playing golf–we’re a nutty species after all.
The oddest things entertain us.  But watching somebody else play golf?
Sorry but you lose me there.

So I started wondering–what would Jesus think about that questionable
pastime.  It would be sacrilegious to pretend to know what a divinity thinks, but here’s a hypothesis anyway.

Maybe His opinion would go something like this.

“I allowed myself to be tortured to death in the most gruesome way–all to
save your sorry ass souls. You’re supposed to thank me one day a week.  One damn day!  Is that asking too much?  And this is what I get?  Millions of you, glued to some inanimate rectangular object, staring intently at a handful of guys hitting a tiny ball with sticks?

“D’you realize life is finite?  Clock’s tickin’ people.  Y’know I’m comin’ back with an army one of these days don’t ya?  And I’m not gonna be in a good mood.  Just sayin’ ”

Has Your Bank or Credit Card Company Done This to You?


Now I would never suggest that banks or credit card companies would ever
do anything unethical or illegal just for a few bucks. We all know they are
way above deserving of opprobrium, right? Ahem, I said–Right?  RIGHT?
I can’t hear you.

Well, anyway, here’s what happened to me. I’ve used the same credit card
and never, ever paid late for at least a decade. But this has happened before, with another card and I had to argue about it with that other credit card company and got so pissed off that I canceled the card–which I’d had for 15 or 20 years, with never a late or minimum payment.

So, anyway, in February I sent a payment in six days before it was due on
the 23rd. Then on the second of March I got a phone call from the credit
card company wanting to know why I hadn’t paid the bill. So I had to stop
what I was doing, find the statement, look for my checkbook, etc. to verify
that I’d sent it in plenty of time. No way could they not have received it.

But they claimed they hadn’t and, in addition to my bill they were tacking
on a $25 late charge.

So on March 6 I went to my bank and found out, yes the check had cleared.
So then today, the 7th, I went to Bank of America, which is where the
credit card is from, to check and make sure that the check that cleared had
actually been received and cashed by that institution and not by some
identity thief. The counter clerk, who was a bit of a snot, with an
Eastern European accent so thick I could barely understand her, told me the
payment had been received on March 2. The 2nd would be the day that they called and hassled me because I supposedly hadn’t paid my bill.  (Sorry, I know it’s not politically correct but I do not take well to having to put up with rude foreigners when I know that plenty of Americans would love to have their job.)

Not to mention–WTF is the CC company doing calling and dunning me when the
damn payment would only have been overdue by a few days? I’ve had the
damn card for more than a decade and never had a late payment or even
made a minimum payment.

So now I wonder if credit card companies hold checks that are received
right before a due date just so they can tack on a bogus late charge. Yes, I
know, I know, no big corporation would do such a thing, right? Right?

I remember someone else telling me the same thing happened to them.

And what I’m also wondering is–do banks and credit card companies do this as an organized scam?  If so, how many millions of dollars in  free money would that work out to each month? I doubt most people would even contemplate their bank or CC company being so venal, greedy and stupid as to perpetrate a fraud such as this.

Has anyone else had this experience?  Or am I just overly suspicious?
(Which is hardly possible in Florida because here there are no depths so deep, no
low so low that someone or some company wouldn’t stoop to it for money.)

Of course, when the same credit card company owed me about $750, they didn’t pay me for months and  months. They’d ask again and again for the same documents, despite admitting that they’d already received what I’d sent.  So that was an interest free loan from me to them for months.  I guess I should have started hassling them seven days after they were supposed to have paid my claim, which had been billed to me on my credit card the very day that it was incurred.

What  would Jesus say?  “Gimme my whip, I never liked these guys in the first place.”

“Lock Her Up” “Have him flogged” “Lock Her Up” “Have Him Flogged”


To the humor impaired:  This is satire.

Q.  What Do Donald Trump and King Henry II of England Have In Common?

A.  They both made remarks that were construed as hinting that they’d sure appreciate it if someone would get rid of a political opponent, and then gave passive aggressive responses to the resultant firestorm of criticism.  (”Whaaat?” “Was it something I said?” “I was just kidding.”)

Maybe King Henry II’s voluntary penance (flogging) for his faux pas of seemingly wishing for political assassination could be extended to Mr. Trump as well.   Think of it.  It’d be a huge media event that would entertain millions.  The Donald would get tons of attention, which he seeks as resolutelyly as Diogenes, the ancient Greek with the lantern who was unendingly searching for an honest man.  Maybe the pros would outweigh the cons for the ever-surprising Mr.
Trump and he’d agree to the gaudy spectacle.

Henry II was famous for his rages when anyone opposed his will.  After his best bud, Thomas a Becket became Archbishop of Canterbury the two had a falling out over the separation of Church and State.  They had a huge fight about it and in 1164 Thomas ultimately had to scoot to exile in France, where he remained for six years.  (King Henry was really pissed off!)  Eventually, in 1170, Henry and Thomas were reconciled and the archbishop returned to England.  But it was an uneasy truce.

Only a few months after Thomas returned to Canterbury, the two were again at
loggerheads.  The precipitating issue was whether Church or State had judicial authority over clerics.  Apparently many monks had been overly frisky, some even murderous.  Thomas believed only the pope had any authority over religious matters and denounced some bishops during his mass on Christmas Day, 1170, which was interpreted as him excommunicating them.   Henry wanted them reinstated, because he maintained that the clerics’ misdeeds were up to the State to punish (or not).   Thomas said no.

Henry was, as usual, enraged when he didn’t get his way.  He was, in France at the time,  and huffed “Will no one rid me of this meddlesome priest?” or something along those lines.  Four of his knights were only too happy to oblige their liege lord.

The knights crossed into England and raced for Canterbury.  On December 29, 1170 they caught Becket at the cathedral saying Vespers.  They carved him up. Literally.  The crown of Becket’s head was cut off.   One of the knights delivered a crushing blow to the prostrate Thomas’s head, spilling his brains out right in front of the altar.  Ick!  Even for a king having an archbishop’s brains squashed out at a cathedral’s altar was way too over the top.

So Henry was forced to agree to do penance, which included being publicly flogged by the monks of Canterbury, in the cathedral.

Even though, fortunately, no one took the Donald up on his provocative solicitation of violence, there are plenty of people who’d still love to see him publicly flogged.  It could be done at St. Edward’s Catholic church in Palm Beach–there’s plenty of parking behind nearby Green’s drugstore. (Finding parking is a real problem in Palm Beach.)

Mr. Trump ‘s handlers could sell the idea to him by focusing on the linkage between him and a king.  Yeah, the Donald in sackcloth and ashes, the Catholic priests whaling on him (the Episcopalians at Palm Beach’s Bethesda by the Sea church might go too easy on protestant Trump) cameras rolling, media flacks gabbling like excited geese–it would be the event of the election season.

Maybe some RNC members could be induced to join the floggers.  Catholic Paul Ryan would go for it, and Reince Priebus might be all in as well.   Maybe it could be a bi-partisan fund-raiser for charity.  MSNBC’s Joe Scarborough and
Mika Brzezinski could be the fair and balanced moderators. (Or maybe Stephen Colbert would be a better fit–he’s Catholic.)  It would be awesome theater.

And it would give Democrats an answer to the Republicans’ chant of “Lock her up”.   Dems can start start chanting “Have him flogged”.

Somebody, please, start a petition to have the Donald do penance the Henry II way.   Pretty sure it would garner the number of signatures required for the White House to address it.  President Obama, always a good sport, would probably be okay with it.

What would Jesus say?  “Flogging doesn’t sound so bad compared to what I had to do to save your damn souls.  Go for it.”

Say Hallelujah.  This is an idea whose time has come.