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."

We've all seen those huge, unexpected headlines, four times or so the font size of regular headlines, when something really, really unexpected happens. We used to see them on printed newspapers. Now it's CNN.com taking up half your screen with three words. There's nothing that can't come to pass in this wild and wicked world is what it seems.

In truth, though, there are somethings that will never happen. You can bet your morning latte money that you'll never see any of the following headlines in a font of any size. In descending order of likelihood: ​

10. Unarmed Black Teenager Acquitted in Killing of Police Officer

9. US Currently Unwilling to Invade Anyplace, Says Pentagon

8. Alabama Changes Official Motto to “The Gay Marriage State”

7. Miley Cyrus Says She’s “Just Okay” in Bed

6. California Bans Nachos

5. National Weather Service Runs Out of Names for Hurricanes, Will Call All of Them “Really Fucking Windy” Followed by a Number Next Year

4. Mexico Tests Nuclear Weapon

3. End of the World Not Being Predicted by Anybody
 
And, the Top Two:

2. Republicans Solve Problem They Didn’t Invent

1. Trump Says Being President Makes Him Feel “Humble.”

Of all the thirty or so Democrats running to defeat him in 2020, Trump probably fears former Senate candidate Beto O’Rourke the most. Other Dems are better qualified. Other Dems are also white guys, although the two that poll the best are even more ancient than Trump. Other Dems have zero foreign policy cred, but then, so doesn’t Trump, and he’s been trying to have a foreign policy for more than two years now.
 
Trump doesn’t fear any of the lady Democrats. There’s no actual reason for this except he’s a misogynist cretin, but there it is. He doesn’t worry about Bernie because Bernie’s the only Dem with worse hair than him.
 
Trump probably doesn’t want to run against Biden, either, because Biden's better looking, but Beto’s better-looking and younger, so he's the one that gives Trump nightmares, because Trump is that kind of shallow bastard. Here’s ten other reasons why Beto would rule over Trump in 2020:

1. Beto can jump up on lunch counters way better than Trump, who can barely crawl after a lost ball on a golf course. Why? Youth. And no bone spurs.
2. Trump doesn’t drink. Beto’s been known to pound a brew or two, just like the rest of us. Beto’s even flunked a field sobriety test, whereas Trump only flunked out of Fordham.
3. O’Rourke’s never picked a fight with a dead guy.
4. Beto’s played guitar with Willie Nelson. Trump’s only played grab-ass with Kanye West.
5. Beto’s penis has never been compared to a forest fungal growth.
6. Skateboarding. Golf is so last century. America is ready for a President who can skateboard. Hell, the globe is ready for a Free World leader who can do an ollie. Kim Jong Un would give up his nukes in a heartbeat to a US President who could teach him how to do a heelflip.
7. Mrs. Beto? Not an international prostitute!
8. Would not be caught trying to get bogus security clearances for his kids, because they are all still in grade school.
9. Beto is Ivanka’s secret dreamboat. She yearns to feel normal-sized hands on her body.
10. Beto’s never had to celebrate not being indicted.

The news that Putin buddy Viktor Vekselberg, the man known in Moscow as “Человек, который держит путинский промах,” (Translation-- “The guy who holds Putin’s boner”) funneled over half a million from a slush fund in Switzerland to Trump fixer Michael Cohen was pounced upon by the lamestream media as proof that the Russians were cultivating Trump as an asset from the minute he had his mushroom fertilized at the Moscow Ritz, but the Russians denied the deal had anything to do with the current President.
 
A source from the Russian embassy, who insisted on anonymity because, as he said, “My flight to Moscow doesn’t leave until midnight, and I don’t want any FBI agents to have to stay up late nosing around a smelly old terminal at Dulles on my account,” insisted that Russia cut the checks to Cohen just because, “We really dig Michael Cohen. The guy is just a mensch. If he lived in Russia instead of here, he would be Boy Oligarch of the Year every year. For sure.
 
“The guy can totally write a threatening letter. That’s what caught the boss’s eye. I mean the letter he wrote to Yale, threatening them if they ever went public with their rejection of young Trump’s application to their school, was just a work of art. Yale’s reaction to Trump’s request to be admitted there was basically ROTFLOAF (rolling on the floor laughing our asses off). Cohen told them if that ever leaked, they’d never be able to get a taxi in New York again. After that, it was crickets from Yale.
 
“So, we hired him to write a couple threatening letters. He wrote one to the Ukraine, but we had to invade them anyway. We didn’t hold that against Cohen. Because we already had him write one to Angela Merkel telling her to STFU up the gas pipeline she’s been whining for, and to John Podesta, threatening to put his password on Reddit.
 
“When Cohen started lying to Congress, that’s when the boss really started to warm up to him, because Comrade Putin’s motto is, “I’ll lie to anybody’s Congress, including my own, even though I don’t really have to, because I can have them poisoned instead.
 
“So, you see, it’s all about our appreciation for Michael Cohen. We didn’t give him the half mil to pass on information about Trump that we could use blackmail him once he became President. That’s just fake news.  And nobody’s mad at him in Moscow because he turned state’s evidence and implicated everybody in Trump’s orbit this side of Stormy Daniels in some kind of felony. It will definitely be a coincidence if he turns out to be the only inmate in his prison that has a small amount of radioactive materials mixed in with his chow every day. It won’t be Russia condemning him to a horrifying slow death, that’s for sure. People need to think it might be Hillary Clinton, still trying to cover up Uranium One. Everybody at the Kremlin knows she gets all the free radioactive Splenda she wants.
 
“Why doesn’t the media cover that?”

Recently some folks showed up at my house to convert me to Christianity. While I was raised in the full splendor of the nunnery and pedophilia of the One True Church, I kicked that to the curb long ago. But I invited them in to hear their pitch. The nature of the message involved a great deal of valuable Jesus info and it got me to thinking about what His life was like.

First, it must have been super comfortable. Robes and sandals 24/7. Warm weather. The ability to pull loaves and fishes out of your ass is an awesome party trick. There is no real evidence to prove the walking on the water bit but damn, that would be cool.

It’s unlikely Jesus was white, just from a geographical perspective, which is good, because nonwhite people tend to bring the best weed. Which means you need some extra loaves and fishes.

Apparently, his girlfriend was a total ho but he dug her anyway. In my Catholic grade school, they would always pick the hottest girl to play her in The Passion Play.

Not sure what Jesus did for recreation but I’m guessing beach volleyball. You don’t get abs like that without regular exercise. Also, not sure of what the waves are like in the Sea of Galilee, but I’m certain he could drop in and get pitted with the best of them.

He had twelve bros to roll with. A solid crew, except for that Judas mother-fucker who sold Him out to the Man. They all ate on the same side of the table if the painting is accurate. But His posse, like most, scattered when their boy got in trouble with the po-po, saying “Dude, if things weren’t so crazy for me right now, I’d go home, grab a hammer and pry you off that cross, but the kids and all…”

So Jesus was dead for a while but rose. Apparently, bee-lined for his dad’s house, which is in a super nice neighborhood. He makes noises about coming back, but I’m not holding my breath.

In the gun news this month, Republicans in North Carolina have passed a bill encouraging teachers to be armed while teaching, and is even offering them a 5% pay raise if they undergo police training before strapping on a gat in the hallways of NC schools.
 
This, the Republicans reason, will prevent school shootings in North Carolina, although any self-respecting psychopath itching to shoot up a school will immediately know which teachers have guns (the gym teachers) and which teachers don’t (the English teachers) and plan his attack accordingly.
 
The North Carolina Association of Educators is against the bill, proving that even in a strong, pro-gun state like NC, educated people are liberal wusscakes. Maybe they’re thinking that even with lots of police training, police people accidentally shoot people, even other police people, all the time. An FBI agent, despite having the best Federal police training possible, accidentally shot up a disco last year because he was break-dancing while packing heat, for which he was roundly criticized, even though most Americans cannot even attempt to break dance without hurting themselves, and the FBI agent remained uninjured, although the same could not be said of everybody in the disco.
 
When teachers strap chillers, it’ll only be a matter of time before one of them accidentally discharges his or her gun, to little or no educational value. Sure, in calculus you could assign the bullet’s path as a math problem, and try to figure out exactly what angle it ricocheted off the tile to hit the new kid in the second row, or in biology to figure out which artery it hit to produce such massive bleeding, but in most classes it’s going to be nearly as disruptive as the proverbial active shooter himself.
 
In extracurricular activities, the coach of the 0-9 track team is not going to make his charges any faster when, jumping up and down in frustration at the school’s slowpokes, he accidentally shoots off a chunk of his hiney. In the chess club—well, never mind the chess club. They’re going to be okay, even though they are going to have to wait until they’re juniors in college to get laid.
 
In the meantime, until all the educators in its schools are armed and ready to re-enact the gunfight at the OK Corral anytime things get a bit heated in the teacher’s lounge, NC schools are doing what they can to prevent school shootings—running active shooter drills, in which students are encouraged to hide under the furniture if someone busts into the classroom and starts spraying hot lead. This assumes that bullets, even armor-piercing bullets, cannot penetrate school desktops. This makes sense, because desktops have probably gotten better since my generation used to hide under them to prevent being incinerated by nuclear blasts.
 
In the meantime, several generations between 1970 or so and 2010 or thereabouts, were publicly educated without being trained to hide under their desks at all. And they’re the people that are mostly in charge now.
 
Even though they’re wusscakes. 

In a sign that he is stepping up his game ahead of his fight for re-election, Trump was seen signing Bibles for tornado victims in Alabama instead of just chunking paper towels at them like he did in Puerto Rico.
 
Nor did he blame the disaster victims in Dixie for bringing the disaster on themselves like he blamed Californians for letting themselves burn up last year by failing to rake their forests. He didn’t have to, because the God-fearing folk of Alabama, being good Christians, regard all natural disasters as part of God’s plan, so they blamed themselves already. It never seems to occur to them that if that is the case, God is a pretty shitty planner. No, they believe that somehow they deserved to have meteorological havoc wreaked upon their trailers and pickup trucks. They knew that they had sinned in some way that deserved a big-time smiting, whether it was letting somebody drive through their town while transporting a gay wedding cake, or permitting member of Planned Parenthood to buy a bag of fried pork rinds at the local Piggly-Wiggly.
 
Also, a tornado is the natural disaster that most closely resembles the Rapture, in that people are getting sucked up into the sky, although the resemblance ends when tornado victims get slammed back down again. Still, it’s good practice.
 
The fake news media pointed out that Trump was signing the Bibles with his pussy-grabbing hand, and also that asking him to sign your Bible was like asking the Pope to sign your copy of Hustler. None of that disturbed the tornado victims, because of their immense respect for the man who is intent on building a wall on Alabama’s border with Mexico, which some of them think their state actually has. One woman was heard to say prayerfully, “I know there’s a reason for all this,” as Trump smudged her Bible with his spray-tanned fingers.
 
And she is correct. We know the reason tornadoes form. Here’s a link to the “Tornado” page on Wikipedia. I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.
 
What it also probably says in there is that is that we can’t really predict when tornadoes are going to form, or where they are going to go when they do. What we can say for sure is that it gave Trump a chance to pretend to give a shit about somebody besides himself, in a week where it was discovered his  Super Bowl party was attended by the original owner of the chain of whorehouses that Pats owner Robert Kraft favors for a rub-and-tug, and it turned out the old madam was peddling her influence with Trump to her Chinese billionaire pals, no doubt with free handjobs for all thrown in.
 
Swear on the Bible. Yeah, I’ve got one. And it was signed by Stormy Daniels.
​

A woman has been fired from the Ventura County animal control agency for refusing requests from her boss to pray with him, or so says a lawsuit by Tara Diller, the former director of that agency.
 
Diller says she was shitcanned because she rejected her superior’s repeated requests to join him in imploring Jesus to take the wheel, so to speak, of animal control affairs up in Ventura.
 
Praying at work is hardly uncommon. It is probably the third most common forum in which the Almighty is regularly beseeched, after religious services themselves and watching sports events on which one has placed a bet. Prayers  are soaring aloft from the hearts of innumerable members of the workforce even as I write this, prayers like “Oh Lord, I please grant my wish that the guy in the next cubicle put on deodorant today,” and “God, I hope the boss never finds out that Excel is a bigger mystery to me than string theory,” and even “Jesus Christ, would somebody turn down the air conditioning? It’s fifty fucking degrees in here!”
 
Whether prayer is in any way effective in improving workplace conditions is debatable, and the value of coerced prayer extremely so. It is not known what faith Johnson Gill, the man who wanted to make Diller his prayer concubine, belongs to, but it must be an extremely fervid one, perhaps one in which the soul of every beast Ventura County puts down must be prayed over, so they can wing or hop up to Birdie and Bunny Heaven when their existence on this plane is done. Or it’s one of those offensive proselytizing ones, and Gill was just saving Diller the trouble of knocking on her door on a Sunday, particularly one on which she had a morbid hangover, and trying to persuade her to buy a ticket on the Salvation Bus on her stoop.
 
The question is whether Diller deserves an honored spot in the #MeToo pantheon. Some would say no. A simple request to worship together should not be compared to the self-loathing and personal yickiness endured by the people preyed on by Weinstein, Ailes, Spacey etc., men who left trails of forced sex and ruined careers in their horny wakes. After all, a short (hopefully) prayer that you engage in, however unwillingly, doesn't leave you running for the nearest tank of hand sanitizer.

But over here, we feel Diller’s pain. Your boss shouldn’t be able to fire you if you refuse to touch his worship wang when he whips it out.
 
Keep your prayers in your pants, please.

For those of you who have been preoccupied by the news that the President is an even bigger scumfuck than you imagined, and came out of his latest summit with Kim “Fat Kid” Jong Un burnt nearly as badly as that uncle Un executed by flamethrower, there were other headlines last week. The biggest one concerns India and Pakistan, two nuclear-armed states that are thinking about having a war with each other.
 
A nuclear exchange, which is a polite way of saying “hundreds of millions of people roasted and radiated alive,” between these two nations is already being treated with a lot of indifference over here, mostly because you could not have a nuclear war much further away from the US and still hold it on this planet.
 
It will have consequences for us, though—cremating India will mean the end of tech support forever, and, although few people are aware of this, Pakistan supplies the US with greatest number of people with advanced medical degrees who are nonetheless forced to drive Uber when they immigrate here.
 
But these losses may be out weighed by a major benefit--a minor nuclear winter that will put the brakes on global warming for decades. Scientists estimate that setting off maybe a hundred Hiroshima-sized bombs will splatter enough mud into the upper atmosphere to reverse climate change, at least for a while.
 
Keep in mind that this is not the ginormous nuclear winter that an atomic war between the US and Russia would produce, where shipping through the Panama Canal would occasionally be shut down by icebergs. It would be more like South Carolina having the same climate as Pennsylvania, while PA would have the weather now currently enjoyed by Maine, all the way up to the Arctic, where polar bears would once again frolic on the un-melted ice of summer.
 
The Gulf Stream would keep pumping and the coral would come back to life. This is not to say people, especially American people, would be entirely happy about this, because we seldom are completely happy about anything. I am sure my neighbors in San Diego would bitch about having their taxes raised so we could get us some snowplows. We couldn’t wait to start warming things up again. People who drive Priuses would start getting dirty looks, while people who bought two-and-a-half ton SUVs and used them primarily to take a 26-pound child to back and forth to daycare would be hailed as stewards of the environment.
 
But I need to stop here—my copy of Word has been extraordinarily buggy this morning, and I need to call tech support.
 
While I still can.