The Republican National Committee (RNC) is preparing this new bumper sticker which, I presume will be offered on their website.
DO YOU REALLY WANT MORE OF THE SAME?
The staff in the Random Thots Department of Limericks and Fancy Prose submitted this
Hype and blame, what a shame
on nothing more he rose to fame.
And he did no good
‘though he said he would.
The time has come to end this, his game
Whaddya think, should we publish it?
At the annual White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner, Jimmy Kimmel joked ““Everything that is wrong with America is here in this room.” The room was filled with politicians and journalists, so where’s the joke? There wasn’t a single plumber or a carpenter in the place. The builders of America were absent, only the demolition crew showed up.
Do we really need this annual show? John Hinderaker writes in Power Line that it is an event where “The politicians pretend to engage in self-deprecation that shows they don’t take themselves too seriously. The comics pretend that they are just trying to be funny, lampooning politicians impartially in search of laughs. But, even though some of the lines are indeed funny, the premise of the event is fundamentally false. In fact, politicians, comedians and even the celebrities present are pursuing an agenda that is both self-aggrandizing and political”.
Like all roasts, it is also a DIDDID event. If you are going to be a target you have no choice whether or not to go because you are damned if you do and damned if you don’t. The Brits do a good job laughing at themselves, we don’t. Humor is a fragile thing and goes bad when it’s not handled carefully. The best humor is 100% fun for 100% of the audience. One little barb can render a joke flat. A not-so-hidden running agenda turns even funny humor bad. There is no way in Washington, as they say, that you can assemble a room full of politicians and journalists without an agenda. Let’s stop pretending we can.
Keep a bushy upper lip and you may qualify for a $250 annual tax deduction for expenses incurred in the nurturing and caring for your hirsute growth, provided that is, if a recently introduced Bill passes into law. The Bill was submitted to the House Ways and Means Committee for judicial review, the normal process for proposed changes in tax law. Unbelievable? It’s a fact. Here is the story as reported by David Halper for the Weekly Standard.
The first thought any good capitalist would have would be to look for a manufacturer of mustache mugs and buy some of their stock. But don’t expect the industry to be subsidized. Mustaches are never green and the bill was introduced by a Republican, Rep. Roscoe Bartlett of Maryland. There are risks however; the feminist movement is sure to bring action. Married women filing jointly will still benefit of course, but others would need to take hormone shots in order to qualify. There is little question but that the Supreme Court would find The Stache Act to be discriminatory, somewhat like abortion laws that only apply to women.
Someone in Washington or perhaps Maryland must have been having some fun at the expense of the Honorable Roscoe. I hope the newspapers in Europe don’t catch this one. It could cause them to think our lawmakers are foolish.
Run for your lives, men; it’s Feb 29th
There once was a time, long long ago, when ladies did not make advances to men. This was a handicap that fell hardest on the less attractive members of the distaff gender. It was back about 1937 when Hekzebiah Hawkins decided to do something about it. His daughter was the ugliest gal in all of Dogpatch and he feared she would be besot with spinsterhood.
Now, Hekzebiah was recognized by some folks as the Mayor of Dogpatch. Be that truth or otherwise, old Hek was for sure influential in the valley so he decreed a day be set aside for a foot race where the gals could chase the guy of her choice, and if caught, the poor lad was obliged to accept a life of blissful matrimony with the successful runner. It would be Sadie Hawkins day.
But, alas, the day Hekzebiah chose for this annual event was the last day of February in 1936. It happened to be leap year, leaving the gals only one day every four years for their pursuits. Most of the folks in the valley agreed with Prudence Pimpleton who said “it was Lil Abner’s lobbyist what got that day picked, no doubt about it”.