Author Richard Cahill's Website--Living By Our Motto:"There Are No Stupid Questions, Just Stupid People Asking Questions Everybody else already knows the answer to."

In an unprecedented attack, Trump, after first proclaiming the massive explosion in the Lebanese capital was the work of terrorists, switched gears and blamed the tragedy on Joe Biden.
 
“That boat full of explosive fertilizer was abandoned in Beirut six years ago. Who was President then? Obama. And who was Vice-President? Biden? And isn’t the Vice-President, according to the Constitution, supposed to be in charge of dangerous cargoes in foreign harbors?” asked a White House spokesman, when he was contacted about the President’s previous hysterical claim about terrorists.
 
Umm, no. And even if that was true, wouldn’t that make Beirut Mike Pence’s fault?
 
“Obviously not, because Mike wasn’t Vice President six years ago. Biden was, and he was too busy sending his drunk son Hunter around the globe collecting money from Ukraine and China, just so the Bidens could have the finest basement in Delaware, to pay attention to the danger in Lebanon.”
 
You know the Lebanese weren’t paying attention to the danger in Lebanon, right?
 
“How do we know that they weren’t constantly asking Biden for help when they were storing a shit-ton of ammonium nitrate in that easily flammable warehouse, but Biden was too preoccupied with kissing little girls on the hair and getting early signs of dementia to hear them?”
 
We do pretty well know you’re just making that up. Like the thing your boss made up yesterday about mail-in-voting being completely okay in Republican states but a recipe for fraud in Democratic ones.
 
“Made up? That’s nonsense. Read the books, read the manuals. But let me explain what this Administration is doing to keep dangerous cargoes out of American waters. Right now, China is trying to ship boats full of TikTok to American ports…”
 
You know TikTok isn’t something that can be transported by sea, right?
 
“I know no American port is going to get blown up like Beirut while Trump is in charge, pal.”
 
Probably not, but it’s no credit to Trump. American ports are run rationally, by responsible people who wouldn’t offload thousands of tons of explosive cargo into a warehouse for six years and then just wait for somebody to light a match. It’s been that way for decades. Lebanon is a disorganized, corrupt mess whose government consists of a shaky coalition of parties that hate each other, each with their own armed faction. America isn’t like Lebanon.
 
“That might have been true up until now, buddy, but is it really anymore? You’ve got President Trump to thank for that.”

The Appalling Republican Shithead of the Year, or “Arsy,” ceremony will be held, in secret as always, in January, right before the next Congress is sworn in, and there’s a new name on the leaderboard for the coveted honor—Senator Cotton of Arkansas!
 
“He just made a huge move by letting everybody know he thought slavery was a necessary evil,” said one of the award committee members, who preferred to remain anonymous. “I mean, he was on the radar before, just because we take notice of ghastly yet pious warmongers over here—we feel ya, Liz Cheney—but it’s not enough to make you stand out. But slapping that “necessary evil” right up next to “slavery?” That’s enough to start a groundswell!
 
“I have to admit, the award committee was leaning towards Rand Paul or Bill Barr. Paul, for getting the coronavirus and exposing everyone else in the Senate to it—only a really selfish poop-for-brains would do that. And Barr, for turning the Justice Department into a personal-injury firm for Trump’s ego. It was going to be close, just like last year’s Arsys, when Devin Nunes narrowly beat out Brett Kavanaugh. It was a proud moment for the House, which seldom shows up in the nominations. Not that there’s not plenty of appalling Republican shitheads in the House, but there’s almost too many, if you know what I mean. Their constant barking kind of steps over each other’s messages. It’s not that we don’t love them. Most days it's all I can do to keep myself from going over to the Capitol and start scratching Matt Gaetz or Louie Gohmert behind the ear and saying, “Good boy! Good shithead!” and then watch them do that funny thing with their legs.
 
“But that slavery remark, that’s going to be legend. I mean snatching a batch of people from another continent, breeding and selling them, forcing them to pick cotton for agricultural oligarchs, then setting them free at the cost of a civil war, then pushing them into segregation and keeping them humble about it by beatings, rapes and lynchings, forcing them to start a civil rights movement so they could do basic things like vote and live in the suburbs, to today, where they’ve come so far the only thing they have left  to complain about is randomly getting shot to death by cops or vigilantes—it’s evil, sure, but it’s NECESSARY!
 
“That’s the kind of thinking that wins a dude the Arsy. Republicans know that there’s evil in the world, but the important thing for them is to believe NONE OF IT IS THEIR FAULT! That’s where Cotton comes in. Even three-time Arsy winners like Ted Cruz are going to be cheering when the Senator from Arkansas strides on stage like a colossus.”
 
“I’m sure I won’t be able to keep myself from crying.”

In a recent interview, the Cantaloupe Dope claimed that if the voting public chose his opponent in November, “religion would be gone.”
 
Wow. So cool, is what you’re thinking to yourself, and vow to mail in as many fake ballots marked for Biden as any foreign power looking to fix the election will let you have.
 
I urge you to calm yourself, even if that requires taking or smoking medication. This may come as a seismic shock to you, but Trump is lying. Biden cannot abolish religion, thanks to the First Amendment, which promotes freedom of it, on account of our Founding Fathers, a bunch of white guys in wigs and pantyhose that are ordinarily depicted favorably in the media. They even have musicals made about them, despite them having left us such dubious inheritances as slavery and the Electoral College.
 
You can’t really say they were wrong about religion, although many of them were not particularly religious but if they were clear-minded about it, they could have given us freedom of religion only for the religions that existed at the time, and spared us uniquely American religious concoctions like Mormonism, Dianetics, and Jim Jones, batshit faiths that developed in the fertile soil of native religious lunacy in later years.
 
But you can’t think of everything when you’re starting a country from scratch, especially when you can’t wait to quit pondering about equality to get back to banging your favorite slave girl after work, so we’ll let the FF’s off the hook for letting religion flourish here.
 
Another whopper by Trump was that Joe wants to abolish the suburbs, but if you read into that carefully, what Trump means is that Biden can’t be counted on to maintain suburbs as lily-white enclaves where you have to go to the 7-11 to get a Slurpee if you want to see a person of color.  We don’t really have those kinds of burbs out here in California now, and our property values are truly bodacious anyway. We're not worried about the urban hordes invading us. We'd like to keep out the cousin-fuckers and meth labs that dot Trumpland first.  
 
And, it turns out that by “abolishing religion,” Trump just meant that Biden would merely require people to maintain social distancing while praying. This theory, that God will not listen to the prayers of people who are not snotting viruses all over each other, represents theology at its most dubious, with the exception of the concept of prayer itself, which, even if it is muttered with the utmost sincerity, like a kid begging for a snow day because he didn’t do his homework or a guy getting his leg chewed on by a crocodile, is never answered very consistently, if at all.
​
Being required to stand six feet apart while begging God for a vaccine that science will eventually deliver, and then praising Him lustily when it happens will not destroy any religion, although the illogic of thinking this way may hurt your brain. You can’t organize a congregation to stand outside the CDC and chant “Yay science!” anyway. It would just distract those guys.
 
But churches will still thrive. They just need longer handles on the collection baskets.

Pop star turned Presidential candidate Kanye was chilling at home, looking at his shoes worth more than a reliable, late-model used car, and thinking how fine they would look under the Resolute Desk, when Jesus appeared to him.
 
“Do you have an appointment?” West asked.
 
“I’m Jesus,” Our Lord said tersely. “Check the halo.”
 
“I’m Yeezus,” Kanye replied. “Check the shoes.”
 
“Oh, Me, I knew this was going to be difficult. Kanye, this is about you running for President.”
 
“I accept Your help, My Lord, especially in getting my name on the ballot in all fifty states. There are some deadlines, apparently, that the greatest genius of this generation can’t be bothered with. If You would just inscribe my name on all of them divinely, and then, on Election Day, point it out to every voter with a glowing Finger from Heaven, I would probably win a few more votes. In return, I will let you play my music in eternity.”
 
“We don’t listen to your music in Heaven, Kanye. It’s one of the things that makes it Heaven. Don’t take it personally—there’s lots of musicians we don’t listen to in Heaven besides you. Huey Lewis, for example. Nickelback, natch. Justin Bieber. And any soul who even starts to so much as hum “The Joker” is cast into the fiery pit, where they have to listen to Ted Nugent for all eternity.”
 
“What kind of music do you play in Heaven, then, Jesus? And how can it be Heaven without my music. After all, who is more talented than me?”
 
“Well, Bach, for one. Beethoven. The classics are always good. I make the band play ‘Thus Spake Zarathustra’ whenever I make an entrance into a party. But other tunes are cool. Miley Cyrus is one of my faves. Alanis Morissette. Warren Zevon.”
 
“Who’s Warren Zevon?”

“Werewolves of London, baby.” Jesus then rocks out and lip syncs the first few bars of WW of London. “But we’re getting off the subject. I want you to quit running for President and go back on your meds.”
 
“The white pills? I hate the white pills. They make me think I’m just a spoiled rich black guy who says cringey things like My greatest pain in life is that I will never be able to see myself live, who fulfills the fantasies of hundreds of millions of men whenever I do my wife doggie-style, and who will inevitably end up playing for years in some showroom in Vegas when I haven’t had a hit in a decade or two in order to pay off a lifetime of debt.”
 
“You got it, Kanye. Reality. In My wisdom, I made it to suck, and you have to live in it.”
 
“But being President?”
 
“Nope. America is not my favorite nation, but I've already given them a black President and a hoebag first lady. No need to combine the two."

The Caucasian-in-Chief’s reelection’s in trouble, according to every single available poll, and his campaign made an inevitable move, firing campaign manager Brad Parscale who was last seen being Rick-rolled by a bunch of Korean music fans on TikTok, in favor of old pro Bill Stepien, who gained political fame in the first place by persuading the people of New Jersey that Chris Christie wasn’t too fat to be their governor.
 
This accomplishment pales next to rehabilitating Trump’s image, though. Fifty-five percent of Americans now think of Trump as something they need to work off the sole of their shoe with a butter knife, and they can’t wait until November to do it.
 
The Trump campaign needs to fix that, fast, and there’s only two ways to accomplish that. The first is to persuade people that Trump is not an enormous gob of offal, staining the Oval Office like someone accidentally pumped a Porta-Potty out in there. This is a tall order, because time and time again Trump has proven himself to be a nasty, ill-tempered shit-stain. He has shot himself in the foot so many times, re-election wise, he currently has to borrow other people’s feet to shoot when he wants to do it again. His remaining thirty-six percent of support comes exclusively from his “base,” which has been whittled down to full-throated, warbling racists and people who think the only important issue in the country is them being able to ram their Christianity down other peoples' throats, and also, they’re racist, too, and homophobes to boot. Further shrinkage in their numbers is almost guaranteed by the coronavirus.
 
Even a champion manure-buffer like Stepien might quail at the magnitude of that task, so look for him to drop his poop-shining wheel in favor of option 2, which is to convince people that, while Trump may be a piece of crap, Joe Biden is a bucket of warm spoiled bait that’s been urinated in by a dozen drunk fishermen. Right now, he’s planning to tell you that Biden is the pedophile-in-a-white-van-with-candy of politics. He’ll be trying to convince the American public that Biden’s first act upon taking office will be to kiss AOC’s hair and, while they twerk together, whisper in her ear, “Let’s get the socialist hellhole started.”
 
And even if he manages to do that, he still runs the chance that voters will realize that they’re living in a hellhole now, what with them being unable to leave the house without the fear of getting punched out for either wearing a mask or not wearing one, after rooting around the sofa cushions for enough spare change to buy a pack of Ramen noodles. “What the everlasting fuck,” people will say, “I’d rather live in a hellhole with healthcare,” and vote for Biden anyway.
 
So Stepien’s job looks like it won’t even run through Thanksgiving, and he’s got to be looking for opportunities after that. But I have no doubt he’ll land on his feet.
 
Goya will need a new bean salesman, for one.

It’s been a bad thirty days for rallying for the Cantaloupe Dope, what with no one showing up in Tulsa and then nearly the whole Secret Service, Herman Cain and Don Jr.’s tootsie getting the rona after it, then a couple of 4th celebrations in which the basic theme was how Joe Biden was trying to destroy America.
 
Which is wrong, of course. Joe Biden will have only what’s left of America to try to destroy, should he win in November. Trump will try to rally again, but not only will people fail to show up for fear of the covid, but he’s not going to have any music to play for them. Most recently, Neil Young, geriatric rocker, flat out told the Trump campaign to knock off playing his ancient hit, Keep on Rockin in the Free World. Young, who was born in Canada and was good with that until Trump was elected, became an American citizen specifically so he could vote against Trump this year. He's a little bit p-o'd about being Trump's soundtrack.
 
This follows fast on the heels of the Rolling Stones telling Trump not to think about even humming one of their songs in the shower, and a while back, Bruce Springsteen ixnaying Trump playing Born in the USA before raging against the immigrant hordes.
 
Now, anyone who’s ever read the lyrics of Born or Free World knows that neither song is a paean to the unsullied American Dream. And Trump does read, or at least the Mendacious Mannequin, Kayleigh McEnany, assures us he does. But not song lyrics, apparently, and for sure his base doesn’t read them, either.
 
But the bunch of creaky boomers that attend Trump’s rallies need music to rouse them out of their insulin comas long enough to cheer when Trump takes the stage and even though Ted Nugent still makes his work available for Trumpfests, no matter how tired and cranky and racist you are, there’s only so many times you can listen to Cat Scratch Fever or Wang Dang Sweet Poontang without having a fatal health event, or at least wishing you could have one.
 
Even Kanye West’s oeuvre is not available to Trump now, since West will probably want to use it himself in his own Presidential campaign, which he announced the other day after splitting a big bud of Himalayan Kush with Elon Musk. Just as well, because not a single person born before 1990 can name one song Kanye has ever written.
 
There is one band out of the Cretaceous era of rock that had quite a few hits and, so far, has not objected to Trump playing them. I speak of the Beatles, of course. The fact that they are 50% deceased may have something to do with this.

Now, there are some Beatles hits that wouldn’t be suitable for a Trump rally. Norwegian Wood would be pointless, and I Wanna Hold Your Hand in bad taste in this pandemic year. Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds might be better for a Lindsey Graham campaign event.
 
But Lennon and McCartney did write at least one rocking, soaring anthem with an irresistible hook that would have Trump’s supporters cheering madly and jumping around in their support hose.
 
BACK IN THE USSR!
 
Think about it. If you concentrate hard enough, you can practically see Putin wiping away a nostalgic tear.

Trump claims he “aced” cognitive test… “The doctors were very surprised by my unbelievable results,” he said. –News Item.
 
I reached out to my White House source when I read this story. “One hundred percent true,” he replied. “President Trump is probably the most cognitive President the United States has ever had. The man does nothing but cognitate all day and well into the night.”
 
Define “cognitate.”
 
“The act of being cognitive, of course. The man just can’t help but be a cognitator. His mind is like a steel trap, as opposed to Joe Biden’s mind, which is like a squishy piece of cheese that you would put in a steel trap as bait.”
 
Trump’s mental acuity seems suspect at times, as well. His Tweeting about hamberders, covfefe  and attakers makes some of us think he’s not quite smart enough to use spell check.
 
“Spell check is a left-wing hoax.”
 
And what’s this business about the doctors being surprised by his results? Cognitive tests are pretty much pass-fail. They’re like a field sobriety test for your smarts. You never hear the cops saying, "Wow, that was the best straight line I've seen walked," although I've been in several situations where I wished they had. So take my word for it, you either pass or you don’t. There’s not a whole lot of grading subtlety involved. They’re not the SAT’s.
 
“First off, DO NOT mention the SAT’s to anyone in the White House, ever. Secondly, and maybe you’re not aware of this, because Donald Trump is too humble to mention it, but people spontaneously praise him all the time. ‘Just keep on cognitating like you’re cognitating now,’ is an exact quote from the President’s doctors. ‘We’ve never seen anyone who can cognitate as marvelously as you, Mr. President,’ was also said.”
 
Sounds like they’re just kissing his ass, maybe even at a Lindsey Graham level.
 
“Bite your tongue, sir. The President does not ask for any praise he doesn’t richly deserve. And he truly deserves praise for his cognitive superiority. Even though he’s surrounded himself with the best cognitators possible, like Ivanka, whom he taught to cognitate at a very young age, and Jared, whom he early identified as a young cognitating superhero, he alone does the finest cognitating of all.
 
You know cognitating is not a word, right?
 
“How do you know that?”
 
Well, spell check, I’m afraid.
 
“This interview is over!”

The Caucasian-in-Chief, reeling in the polls and with the rona infecting a fresh fifty-thousand or so of his constituents every day, has decided the best way to make use of his Constitutional powers is to make a heroic stand on behalf of America's statues (in the politically correct term, Marble--Americans).
​
America’s statues have had a worse month than usual, with protesters toppling a few but forward-looking municipalities threatening to remove more. These are statues for the most part, of Confederate generals. Many a sweltering Southern burg has a monument to a local hero of the Civil War, usually displaying him mounted on a horse and holding a sword. The typical plaque underneath goes something like this:
 
                              General Bygod (Swamp Pisser) DePants
      Commander of the Army of Biloxi, Nicknamed “The Fighting Gnat-Swarm”
                    Gravely Wounded at the Battle of Butterbean Mound
             Survived to Became the First Head Reptile of the Mississippi Klan
                                                       1815-1881
 
But recently, certain Chamber of Commerce and other college types in the South are looking at the statues of DePants and his ilk and thinking, “Who really needs these guys? We could put something more useful there, like a Starbucks or even a shave-ice cart.”
 
But Trump stands in stalwart opposition to the removal of all Confederate monuments, because they are “heritage.” He’s also pissed at NASCAR for banning the rebel flag at NASCAR events, and for the Washington Redskins and the Cleveland Indians for wanting to change their names. He may be overdoing it a tad on these issues, because when guys who think there’s no better way to spend the day than absorbing a twelve-pack of Natty Light and watching cars go around in a circle for hours at a time begin thinking to themselves, “Imma startin’ to see how sum people might think that there flag is a no-no,” pretty much everybody else already feels that way, too.
 
The word “Redskins” has not been used by anybody NOT referring to DC’s football team since the script for the last Western before Clint Eastwood started making them was handed out to the cast. “Indians” has been a useless word for years. Unless you were specifically referring to someone who belonged to that baseball team, or owned a casino or a motel, it was always necessary to add a rather clumsy and hauntingly racist adjective to “Indian,” like “Real Indian,” or “Not a real Indian. A Hindu Indian.” We can all give that up with a sigh of relief.
 
But it’s the statues that Trump is really doubling down on. He’s proposing a “National Garden of Heroes,” a collection of statues of mostly white Republican men. Not all white--he’s proposing that statues of Martin Luther King, Frederick Douglass and Harriet Tubman be allowed to stand in the Garden, alongside the likes of Antonin Scalia.
 
Now, Tubman is currently supposed to be on the twenty-dollar bill, replacing slave-owner and Native American exterminator Andrew Jackson, but Trump’s financial elf, Steve Mnuchin, has managed to keep her off with a series of flimsy excuses, because Trump’s base obviously does not want a black woman on their currency on his watch. But she is a genuine hero, as opposed to Antonin Scalia, whose most heroic on-the-record act was apologizing for his farts in Latin. “Paenitet,” he would smirk, every time he saw Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s nose wrinkling.
 
Jackie Robinson’s going to be there too, the first black American major league baseball player. But the first black American President?
 
He’s not worthy.

Tucker Carlson, Fox News talking head, whose hobbies include being boycotted by advertisers and still letting his mom cut his hair, is currently getting sued by Karen McDougal for calling her an extortionist back in 2018.
 
Karen, whom you may have forgotten since she was about seven hundred Trump scandals ago, endured a relationship of some months with the Caucasian-in-Chief, after which Trump’s pals at the National Enquirer bought the rights to her story so they could bury it before the 2016 election. Unlike her fellow fattie fucker, Stormy Daniels, McDougal’s affair with Trump was neither a one-off nor a pay-off--she nurtured the mushroom more than once, and entertained thoughts of having a long-term relationship with Trump.
 
As nightmarish as this may sound, it’s McDougal’s story and she’s sticking to it, although it’s a story that was supposed to stay interred in the litter box of the National Enquirer.
 
If that doesn’t sound like extortion to you, it’s because it doesn’t sound like extortion to anybody except Tucker Carlson, who depicted our girl Karen as a cold-blooded criminal, instead of what she is—an attractive, not particularly intelligent woman who thought she’d be Barron’s step-mom someday instead of just being a girl Trump bragged about fucking to everybody he played golf with.
 
Now she’s in court, and she has a pretty good chance of losing, because Fox has hit upon the perfect defense for Carlson, which is that nobody should believe a word that drips out of his lying mouth.  No “reasonable person,” as his lawyers put it, should think of Carlson as anything more than a bloated bag of fantastic bullshit, belching out one headline-grabbing falsehood after another.  White supremacy is a hoax, women are basically stupid and need to be controlled, and Black Lives Matter is coming to take over your white neighborhood, several of the many head-scratching things our boy Tucker has said over the years, are good examples of Tucker’s complicated relationship with reality, ha, ha, ha, and Karen doesn’t deserve a dime.
 
But millions of people who are not reasonable, at least by Fox legal standards, are held in rapture by Tucker, Hannity and Ingraham ever night. They’re the people who put the ka in Fox’s ching. They’re the eighty-year-old couple in Liver Spot, Kentucky, keeping their guns loaded and their diabetes carts charged up so they can either fight or flee from them antifas when they come running down the holler. They’re the guy open-carrying an AR-15 while he picks out a Mother’s Day card at the Hallmark Store. They’re the people who think they’re being avatars of freedom by refusing to wear a mask during a pandemic. They’re the people who vote for politicians who are keen to take away their healthcare and food stamps, because they'd rather be sick and starve  than obey Sharia Law.

They’re the ones who ought to be suing Fox.