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."

"You can always judge a man by the quality of his enemies.”
 
This quote, which is attributed on the Internet to either Oscar Wilde, Franklin Roosevelt, or Dr. Who, which, besides raising the parallel question of whether a man can be judged by the quality of the people he plagiarizes, can be asked regarding the current crop of Presidential candidates, in some cases with excruciating results.
 
Trump, of course has his main enemy as E. Jean Carroll, a woman he attempted to rape in a dressing room many years ago. This is a nearly eighty-year-old woman who will never collect a dime of the 5 mil he owes her as a result. She is not a fearsome foe. His other enemies are Antifa, Communists and Democrats, vague collections of bogeymen he checks for every night under his bed at Mar al Lago. Nobody else worries about them in the least.
 
Ron DeSantis’ enemies are Mickey and Minnie Mouse, and their folksy ally Goofy. ‘Nuff said.
 
Nicki Hailey, Tim Scott and most of the other Republican wannabees are not even each other’s enemies. Nor are they enemies of Trump’s. They can’t stop praising him for stuff he actually didn’t do, like building the wall, standing against the pandemic or pooping sufficiently on China. They refuse to criticize him for things he did do, like violating the Constitution as if it was a roofied sophomore girl at the senior prom or collecting legal judgments like he was looking to get the complete set.

Mike Pence, whose enemy is Satan. Unfortunately, Lucifer will not be on any primary ballots, possibly due to his lack of existence.
 
Vivek Ramaswamy, whose enemy is himself, for not changing his Hindu name to Nicki Hailey.
 
Asa Hutchinson’s enemy is Donald Trump. Unfortunately, that sits him at about 1% in the polls, but it gets him on CNN a lot.
 
Joe Biden, on the other hand, collects enough worthy adversaries to start a museum of them. International criminal Vladimir Putin for one, who would love to murder Biden during the President’s nap time. Kevin McCarthy, who is willing to crash the world economy to cut off food stamps to the indigent. Old age, the enemy of us all, whom Biden meets and defies every morning as he brushes his teeth.
 
Quality foes all. Can’t think of anyone the President would have to take second place to, this side of Zelensky.
 
Or, maybe, Dr. Who.

The newly crowned Empress of Arkansas, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, has decreed that anyone applying for a state job in her kingdom must write a 500-word essay on what the applicant admires about her most.
 
The Huckster seems to be emulating her most recent boss, whose appetite for abject and probably insincere ass-kissing is never sated, but it’s easy to see where this is going.
 
In a few years, will Sanders sit on the Gunmetal Throne of Little Rock? Will she acquire extra titles like “Khaleesi of the Snaggy Bottoms?” “Princess of the Greenish Swamps?” “Tornado Born?” “Protector of the Realm’s Razorbacks?”

Will every bass boat in the state be required to have her figurine on its prow?
 
Beats me, but if you are applying for a state job in Arkansas, here’s some advice. Do not start your essay with, “You always seem like you’re winking at me,” or “I like ‘em BIG.” Also, don’t mention the former Governor, her father. She didn’t need that tired old fake sleeping-pill selling hack to get where she is today.
 
Do not say, “Your legs remind me of a pachyderm’s,” because she has Google too, and when she looks that up, you’re going to be settling for work in the private sector.
 
“But what can I say?” you ask. “She’s only been the gov for a few months.”
 
Well, remember, she banished the word “Latinx” from the Arkansas state vocabulary. It’s not much an accomplishment, since everybody hated Latinx, even outside of the state. Latinx is supposed to be the non-gendered form of “Latino” or “Latina.” I still don't know how to pronounce it. Hispanics especially dislike it because in Spanish, the favored language of many Hispanics, like most other languages, everything is already gendered. Us would-be Spanish speakers have learned that the hard way. We are prattling along fine until we have to try and remember things like is a refrigerator male or female? * So, we switch to broken English and hand gestures.
 
So, “Latinx” not much of an accomplishment, but put it in anyway, for God’s sake. All the rest of Huckabee’s acts in the last few months are things like forbidding drag queens to read the Bible within a hundred yards of a Sunday school and keeping transgenders fleeing the state out of YOUR rest stops.
 
Anecdotes help. “One day I opened a porta-potty in the state park, because the heebie-sheebie inside had forgotten to lock the door. I wisht you were governor then, because I was traumatized.” So do compliments. “I watched you when Trump was President, and I often thought, If I could lie like that, I’d still be married.”
 
Other than that, you’re on your own. But put your all into in, otherwise she’s going to pick some else to be the director of the Lake of the Ozarks Sunken Rowboat Museum.
 
And as you toil over your task of kissing Huckabee’s great round ass, think of the only person who has it worse than you, the person who must write an essay on Huckabee to get a government job.
 
That’s the guy who has to read them.

*Male. Who the fuck knows why?

Last year, as wokeness raged across all of the Sunshine State, a man took a stand. His name was Ron DeSantis, and he was the governor of that peninsula full of gators and bugs, and he decided wokeness, whatever it was, would not prevail. He arrayed the forces of the state against its biggest business, which was of the Disney variety, and proclaimed, “Thou shalt not say gay!”
 
And when Disney World refused to stop saying gay, he revoked all the cozy deals the state had made to get Disney to come there in the first place. Thus did DeSantis think he had slain the dragon of wokery, and he went off to Iowa to brag about it.
 
But while Meatball Ron was boasting on his triumphs, not only against the Magic Kingdom, but against immigrants, drag queens, school libraries and old black guys that tried to vote, Disney World struck back, and when Ron’s attention was drawn to measuring the White House shades, the children of Walt filed a few reports, had a couple meetings, and got all their cozy deals back.
 
“That’s about what you should have expected,” a Disney PR man told me. “People think of Mickey Mouse and they think of Steamboat Willie and Mickey’s disastrous role as the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, but what they don’t know is that the Mouse is one of the finest legal minds in the United States, especially when it comes to property law and sixteen-dollar cheeseburgers.
 
“And Minnie is the Gloria Allred of rodent attorneys, tough, sharp, and with that reserve of sneering feminism that made the governor’s legal squad wet their pants.
 
“Goofy? Everyone says he’s not the sharpest member of the team, but when he pulls that ‘Oh, garsh,’ routine and starts shuffling his feet in front of any jury, you’ve lost that case, my friend.
 
“Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck are the detail members of the office. They churned out the research that made Disney World’s case implacably strong. And Disney never had to worry about the deep pockets of the state of Florida exhausting their resources, because the company has always been financially backstopped by Scrooge McDuck. Sure, you might think of McDuck as just a harmless old drake who enjoys bathing in tubs full of gold coins, but that’s what the New World Order wants you to think. In reality, he’s the George Soros of the Happiest Place on Earth. He’s got his bill in nearly every liberal cause there is, and is a bottomless source of funding for Critical Poultry Theory, especially as it applies to wealthy mallards.
 
“So, nobody should be surprised that they took on a bunch of guys from Swampy University Law School, or wherever it is that DeSantis gets his legal team, and cleaned their clocks. It’s a happy outcome for all Americans. They can sleep easy knowing that any time they want, they can go to Orlando and have all the fun they want for seven or eight hundred dollars a day, for a family of three, plus maybe three hundred extra for each additional child.”
 
I’ll keep that in mind. Do you think DeSantis has learned anything from being bamboozled by Disney?
 
“Hope at least he’s decided not to mess with Warner Brothers.”

Republicans, who feel covered in glory after one of their pet judges declared mifepristone, one of the two drugs women use to pharmaceutically end their pregnancies, illegal in all fifty United States, are now setting their sights on Narcan, the medication that people overdosing on fentanyl, can be administered to prevent them from going into “Hey, What Was In That Joint Anyway?” Heaven.
 
“Just like mifepristone, the use of Narcan is interfering with God’s will,” said a spokesman for the GOP. “When the Lord decides it’s time for that dude who shoots up behind the monument every weekend to come home to Jesus, it’s not the taxpayer’s responsibility to make sure he gets a pass from cops carrying emergency Narcan. Just let him stand before the Throne of Judgement while our police force focuses on its main duties, writing tickets for busted taillights and manning that speed trap at the city limits so the judge can afford to gas up his bass boat.
 
“Same thing for people who want to get Narcan at the Rite-Aid because they don’t know what’s in the wacky weed they think their kid is smoking in the rec room, only that it smells like the taxidermist’s does when he opens the door. They think a drug will solve their problems, but It’s plain the problem is they didn’t take him to church enough when he was growing up. It’s time for them to drop to their knees and beg the Lord for forgiveness when they find their boy turning blue underneath the head of that twelve-point buck his grandpa bagged in ‘58. Anything else means they’re just enablers, and like the pastor at the Creekside Church of Jesus’s Ever-Flowing Love says, there’s nothing that God hates more than enablers, except for homos, of course.
 
“It’s the exact same situation as when 14-year-old girl gets pregnant by her half-brother in the tool shed while her momma is working a double at Dollar General. That’s the mysterious ways of Providence asserting themselves. Of course, that half-brother is a little touched and it’s likely that gift from God that is on its way as a result of that sacred moment will never be able to count higher than four, or be trained to wear pants, but the Lord loves that genetic misfit as much as He loves you, me, or Kid Rock, and no legal morning-after pill should keep him from being born to praise Jesus.
 
“And we never know. That child could easily overcome its genetic burden and grow up to be a useful member of society, or at least learn to cook meth or run pills in from Florida like his daddy.
 
“We are all subject to the workings of the mysterious ways of the Almighty. Y'all got to admit that. Unless you’re a Democrat.”

​In the current Republican party, the general itch is to make laws that nobody wants. They daydream about cutting Social Security back to dog-food once a week rates and paring down Medicare until you’re only entitled to a couple free Advil’s a month.
 
But don’t just accuse them of granny-starving. They’ve got plans for the younger generation, too. Loosening child labor laws has always been a dream for them. Instead of happy children playing video games or running around outside committing small acts of arson and sneaking puffs off swiped cigarettes, like we did, Republicans think kids ought to be working for the minimum wage, or, ideally, the minimum special child wage in a perfect Republican economy, in giant dangerous factories, and only smoking cigarettes during designated breaks.
 
Sarah Huckabee Sanders, the newly minted governor of Arkansas, is leading the league in getting minors off their asses and toiling on poultry farms. Of course, Sanders herself can’t be accused of hypocrisy on this account, as everybody knows Sanders worked as a trained circus pig every summer of middle school. Other Republican hands aren’t so clean. Iowa legislators are considering a bill that would allow 14- and 15-year-olds to work certain jobs in meatpacking plants and shield businesses from civil liability if a child laborer is sickened, injured or killed on the job. A bill in Minnesota would permit 16- and 17-year-olds to work construction jobs.
 
It is dead solid certain that these various Midwestern legislators aren’t envisioning their own kids working in a meatpacking plant, or some other dangerous industry. It’s not like they’re telling their kids at the end of the school year, “Boy, this is the summer you find out what a working crop thresher smells like,” or “There’s nothing a face full of chicken feathers in the morning to make you feel like you’re alive, son.” Hell, no. They’re all enrolling their kids in summer sessions at Country Day Something School, hoping they can raise their grades enough to stumble into Stanford, or at least TCU.
 
No, child labor is for brown children, particularly brown children whose English isn’t so good and their illegal parents or guardians don’t much like filling out paperwork. Meat-packing executives look out their office windows at these kids playing soccer with a ball made of taped-up rags and think, “Look at those little slackers. We could put them to work, and nobody would care.” So, they give them jobs at meat-packing plants full of sharp saws and knives, and keep them until they’ve lost enough fingers/limbs so they can't be a successful team member any more. Then they let them can drift back to the border and hold up a begging cup with what remains of their digits, so people crossing back into the US can throw their remaining pesos in them and think better of themselves for it.
 
Republicans seldom cross the border by foot or car—they usually fly in and out of Cancun, a la Ted Cruz. But if they are stuck in the border line, they gaze out of the tightly-rolled up windows of their Land Cruisers and say, “Look at that kid with one arm and one leg! And he’s probably trying to get into our country so he can get welfare!”
 
He’s already been here, you know. He’s been here.

It has been pointed out many times that Trump and his band of merry MAGAS have no actual future plans for America, except to torment refugees, people that want abortions, and the Ukrainian nation.
 
Apparently, the Trumpers have heard this criticism and been stung by it, because now Trump has a plan for after his supposed re-election, besides giving himself a get-out-of-jail-free card. He is going to build ten “Freedom Cities,” high in the air above federal land, which will all bear a significant resemblance to Orbit City, the future home of George Jetson, complete down to the flying cars.
 
“Yeah, why don’t the Democrats give us something useful, like flying cars instead of all that health care shit they’re always pushing down our throats?,” says the typical Trump voter, who nowadays only flies when he cooks up a really good batch of crystal meth. His license is currently suspended due to a couple of at-fault accidents and a DUI he got while four-wheeling in the swamp, but his flying car record is unblemished and he can’t wait to get behind the joystick of a Jetsonmobile.
 
Of course, we have flying cars, or to be precise, small personal aircraft, now. The reason they don’t dominate the transportation market is that they fly. Piloting yourself in three dimensions thousands of feet in the air is a way more serious business than rolling your wheels down to the Quick Mart to buy some vape juice, which you can easily do drunk, with your glove compartment stuffed with weed, expired registrations, and unpaid tickets, just on the off chance you can make the cut on On Patrol Live. On the streets of  Virginia, a hypothetical fender-bender between Kellyanne Conway and Kimberly Guilfoyle would only result in each of them lying about who was at fault, but in Freedom City, it would result in a fiery plunge to the ground, and both of these legendary sources of prevarication would have their voices stilled forever.
 
And don’t just say, “so what?” Another one of Trump’s plans for Orbit City is that he will pay white people to have babies. He doesn’t actually say “white people,” but you know what he means. High above the ground, Caucasian-Americans will clutch their paid-for children, letting them go only to scream, “Get away from that window!” every five minutes.
 
Whether this will work or not nobody knows. Probably depend on the money involved. If Trump tries to low-ball the Future White Dads and Moms of the USA, they’ll probably just say, “Naw…I’ll just buy me some Bitcoin instead.”
 
 
The height of Trump Orbit Cities is obviously meant to discourage refugees from climbing aboard, which won’t work unless you add some really dark real-estate accoutrements, like spikes and boiling oil gutters on the legs of Freedom Place. Even then, the moment Rosie the Robot goes out of warranty, some smiling Salvadorean housekeeper will appear magically at the elevator, ready to take her place.
 
So, we’ve discovered some flaws here, but don’t expect that to stop Trump from trying, even if it just results in a heap of rust somewhere in the Midwest, kind of like his wall did for the Southwest.
 
If you really want to make a mess of it, put Elon Musk in charge.

Numerous Republican sources have reported that Joe Biden waited to knock the Chinese spy balloon out of the sky over the ocean because it was carrying another one of his son Hunter’s laptops, a laptop he had accidentally left at a repair shop in China while he was funneling funds to his father from the CCP.
 
None of these sources were willing to be publicly identified, but they were said to fall along the MGT—Matt Gaetz—Tucker Carlson wing of the party.
 
“Biden couldn’t risk downing the balloon over dry land and having the pulverized pieces of Hunter’s latest laptop put together by the New York Post,” hissed the Gateway Pundit.
 
To even hear even regular Republicans talk about it, he might as well have sent the spycraft a bouquet when he ordered a missile through its envelope.
 
Brave Tom Cotton said to FOX, “What began as a spy balloon has become a trial balloon testing President Biden’s strength and resolve, and unfortunately, the president failed that test. Of course, if he had downed it over Arkansas and crushed so much as a single meth lab, I’d be singing an entirely different tune.”
 
“This is all about China testing the American resolve,” Chris Sununu, who is coincidentally sometimes referred to as the New Hampshire Gasbag, said on "This Week" on ABC. “They know that tensions are escalating, and they want to see what kind of leadership we have. The president clearly failed on this one,” he added. “I just wish it could have been downed over my state. My constituents don’t mind being covered in radioactive soft noodles for the sake of national security.”
 
But, let’s face it--if Joe had climbed into a fighter jet himself, Independence Day style, and shot the spy balloon out of the sky fearlessly while it tried to slather him in death rays, Republicans would not be happy about his actions. They are annoyed because he followed expert advice (the Pentagon’s). This is not the Republican way, as exemplified by their treatment of the Center for Disease Control during the pandemic. The advice of people who think about certain problems and how to solve them full-time is to be cast aside in favor of the opinions of reality TV stars and country-western singers when it comes to a national crisis. People standing in their yards and emptying their AR-15’s uselessly at the sky are the real Americans, not our woke military and its billions of dollars’ worth of air-to-air-missiles, of which exactly one was used to pluck the spy balloon out of the heavens.
 
Apparently, Biden wanted to pop that sucker right away, but was counseled not to shoot it down over land, even when it was over Montana, where it would only possibly have killed a few a few sheep and survivalists when it fell. Or so he says. The haunting possibility that the President dunked the balloon deliberately in the drink in a calculated attempt to cover up the crimes, and possibly more naked pics, of himself and his kid renders this accomplished act of American self-defense in a sordid light.
 
The Republicans, ever paragons of forthrightness, would have shot it down over Atlanta, just for the sake of suppressing the black vote, I suspect, along with preserving the proof of Biden chicanery that the Chinese were so helpfully trying to ship them.
 
But we’ll never know for sure, now that the hard drive full of Biden crimes is melting hopelessly into the dead sargasso off the Carolina coast.
 
Next time, Xi, just use DoorDash.

In the collection of cringe that is the Senatorial campaign of former football star Herschel Walker another noteworthy nugget of knuckleheadery dropped this past week. Apparently, another woman whom the erstwhile running back had begged to abort his child had recorded some of his horny yowlings on tape during their affair, the most notable of which was Herschel murmuring on her voicemail, “Ah you, this is your stud farm calling, you big sex puppy, you.”
 
No one can say for sure this is the worst pickup line ever uttered in English, but the women of America certainly don’t want to hear any attempts to compete with it. The state of Georgia’s favorite pickup line, i.e., “Git in the truck,” is the soul of grace and humor compared to this awkwardly mixed metaphor about dog breeding.
 
It was enough to make me wonder whether other, more senior Republicans had their own favorite lines they used when they went a-courtin.’ I asked my sources and it turned out that, indeed, Republicans have their own special vocabulary of love. Here’s just a few examples:
 
“I’m your turtle and you’re my dove, baby. You make my carapace hard.” Mitch McConnell
 
“I know skinny, cowardly little traitors turn dirty girls like you on. Catch me if you can.” Josh Hawley
 
“The Republican Party has a new big reptile, baby. Come sun with me on the Florida rock of my love.” Ron DeSantis
 
“I’m horny, you’re horny. The guy who dropped you off at the gym—do you think he’s horny, too?” Marjorie Taylor Greene
 
Just call out “Hunter! Hunter!” when we’re making love, baby. That’s what makes me hard.” Kevin McCarthy
 
“Mommy, not while Jesus is looking.” Mike Pence
 
“Come on, cowboy, stuff my ballot-box like you were a Democrat.” Kari Lake
 
“Wear this wig and call me Daddy, and you can make it great again.”  The Mango Mussolini
 
“Ah you, this is your stud farm calling, you big sex puppy, you.” Lindsey Graham

It’s Halloween, the happiest season in Hell, and over here we hope that Rush Limbaugh is enjoying being impaled by imps of Satan who have donned Hillary Clinton rubber masks for the holiday.
 
Like most people who live to adulthood, Limbaugh left some family behind and they, apparently having thinned out the fortune their famous crock of hateful lies left them, have released the book pictured in the corner, the title of which is “Radio’s Greatest of All Time.”
 
Wolfman Jack might object to that, were he still alive, and even Howard Stern might raise an eyebrow. But that’s hardly the least offensive thing about bringing Limbaugh back from the dead. Hopefully, the book contains key Limbaugh quotes like “Have you ever noticed how all composite pictures of wanted criminals resemble Jesse Jackson?” and his once advising a black female caller to “Take that bone out of your nose and call me back.”
 
Noble words, for sure, that should deservedly echo down the corridors of time, even as their speaker is being eviscerated by Lucifer’s ghouls for all eternity. It’s a wonder they haven’t been stamped in ink on paper prior to this, but probably Kathryn and David Limbaugh haven’t really needed the money until now.
 
“But look,” you say. “All the profits from the book are going to needy families of America’s fallen heroes. It says that on the jacket.” Well, they couldn’t really say they were going to give the money to the family of one of America’s most famous chickenhawks, could they? Rumor has it that Rush avoided the draft during the Vietnam war by claiming to have anal cysts, only to become a fervid warmonger when he was safely past the age where he could be enlisted. He also avoided getting stuck with the nickname “Ass Cyst,” even though he deserved it.
 
No, our friends Kath and Dave are probably getting paid the lion’s share of the profits, in the form of editing and contributory fees, despite likely doing no editing. Perhaps some contributions were made by them. Maybe they recalled a sweet Christmas story about Limbaugh dressing up like Santa Claus and teaching little racist children to sing “Barack the Magic Negro,” and it’s retold in the pages of the book.
 
But maybe not. Anyway, it’s better for long-suffering Limbaugh non-fans that you need to buy a book to experience the words of Limbaugh now. You remember gritting your teeth while your husband, who is also your nephew, used to listen to Limbaugh on the radio, whooping “That guy tells it like it is!” through the dentures you had to remind him to put in before your inbred family picnic, and just praying for the show to be over soon so you could resume twisting the radio dial looking for Fleetwood Mac.
 
So, buy him the book for Christmas. It’s not like he’s ever going to read it.

In his typically unwavering approach to racial controversy, Governor Greg Abbott of Texas has announced a ban on teaching the history of black mermaids in Texas schools. At a press conference, a spokesperson for the Guv said, “The history of mermaids in Texas will be taught free of racial biases. Little white Texas mermaids will not be made to feel guilty about something they had nothing to do with, since all black Texas mermaids have been free since 1863. There is no separate, ‘woke’ story of black mermaids that will be forced on our schoolchildren.”
 
Why is it necessary to teach the history of mermaids of any race at all, since it is nowadays thought that historical mermaid sightings were the hallucinations of sailors drunk on rum and dying of scurvy and personal horniness?
 
“The Governor is aware that the anti-family media, particularly Disney, is pushing the idea of black mermaids along with the rest of their PC agenda, on small children. People who go to the beach in Galveston or Corpus Christi just want to relax in the sand and wash down Walmart-size bags of Fritos with a case of Lone Star. They don’t need their kids to go bugging them to find a black mermaid.”
 
Or a white mermaid?
 
“That’s innocent family fun. The important thing is, white people today are not responsible for any injustices inflicted in the past on black mermaids.”
 
Never heard of any, honestly, unless you count black Ariel to be the first black mermaid to ever land a job. So, long history of unemployment for black mermaids?
 
“NO! And as proof, for just a twenty-five-dollar campaign contribution to the Governor, you can get this t-shirt. (Holds up a t-shirt that reads “All Imaginery Lives Matter”)
 
“Imaginary” is misspelled.
 
“The people who are lining up to buy this shirt aren’t going to notice that.”
 
Why is Abbott even bothering with this?
 
“He’s pissed that the Governor of Florida is getting all that great ink for taking our illegal aliens out of here and dumping them in Martha’s Vineyard. We were planning to ship those Venezuelans to La Jolla. At first, Abbott was going to send the Texas National Guard to Venezuela to grab some Venezuelans direct from the source--there's a nearly unlimited supply of Venezuelans in Venezuela, you know--and force them on a plane to the Catskills, but for legal reasons he decided to go after black mermaids instead.”
 
What about Mexican mermaids?
 
“Bite your tongue!”