The Obama Book Reading Sketch

Ciip courtesy of the Jimmy Kimmel Live YouTube Channel
November 20, 2020 • 515,165 views

President Barack Obama, at present, is promoting his new book, A Promised Land. His interview, last night, with late night talk show host Jimmy Kimmell serves as a refreshing reminder of what it’s like to actually have a well-informed, open-minded, good-intentioned, law-abiding, self-effacing, down-to-Earth human being residing within and governing from the White House.

My above portrayal pretty much sums up why, to this very day, I’ve preserved Mr. Obama’s personally delivered, 2008 get-out-the-vote message on my landline’s answering machine; why I did my part to elect and re-elect him; why the election of his VP, Joe Biden, shows much promise. After eight years of working as a team, President-Elect Biden will have a wealth of experience to draw on. And, should additional advice ever be needed, he / we can rest assured that Mr. Obama will always be but a phone call away.

To set up our above clip, cued up to start at 21:49 (if all goes well), we’ll be viewing what I’ve titled “The Obama Book Reading Sketch”. Mr. Kimmel will further explain his novel idea to set the fun in motion.

Obviously, for any of you who’d like to view this positively enlightening and enjoyable interview, in its entirety, its but a rewind away.

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Rejected Final Jeopardy! Clue

Final Jeopardy! Category:
White House High Tech

Inspired by the film Animal House’s hazing scene,
this current Artificial Intelligence, voice synthesizer
generated quip oft emanates from the Oval Office
gold-plated commode, once Trump’s rump is seated.

What is “Thank you, Sir, may I have another?”

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View Hazing Scene

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The “Event Horizon’s” Trips and Falls

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If you’ve been viewing YouTube clips, of late, doubtlessly, you’re already aware of an advertising saturation campaign that’s been huckstering “The 3D Rug”. If you’re unfamiliar with the product, it’s trippy, spacey pattern exhibits a striking resemblance to a Black Hole’s Event Horizon.

And, as is true of its cosmological counterpart, there IS hidden, life threatening peril.

The problem is how the rug’s designer has created such a realistic illusion that, at first glance, unsuspecting passersby could, momentarily, wind up alarmed and disoriented; so much so, that they’d trip and fall.

As most of us know, throw rugs are already hazardous enough; as these accident statistics bear out.

“Annually, an estimated 37,991 adults age 65 years or older were treated in U.S. EDs (Emergency Departments) for falls associated with carpets (54.2%) and rugs (45.8%). Most falls (72.8%) occurred at home. Women represented 80.2% of fall injuries. The most common location for fall injuries in the home was the bathroom (35.7%). Frequent fall injuries occurred at the transition between carpet/rug and non-carpet/rug, on wet carpets or rugs, and while hurrying to the bathroom.” [read more]

Article Byline: Tony Rosen • Karin A. Mack • Rita K. Noonan • Published: 5 January 2013

Seeing how bone fractures can be life ending for elderly victims (my own mother, age 89, suffered and died from such an injury), I am strongly motivated to sound the Red Alert klaxons.

But, be one elderly or youthful, whether one winds up a fatality or survivor, there’s already too damned much pain and suffering in our world. Why add to the anguish by piling on, yet, another hazard; the trippy 3rd dimension, to the already dangerous throw rug.

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ER RN Jodi Doering’s Frank Talk

“CNN’s Alisyn Camerota speaks with Jodi Doering, a nurse from South Dakota who says some of her coronavirus patients often don’t want to believe that Covid-19 is real, even in their dying moments.”

Clip and blurb courtesy of CNN • Nov 16, 2020 • 717,337 views

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ER RN Jodi Doering’s frank discussion with CNN’s Alisyn Camerota focuses upon a flawed, fractured societal attitude that, to say the least, is worrisome.

To say more, cult leader Donald J. Trump and suck-up apprentices, such as South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem, are both guilty of downplaying the ferociously contagious, deadly Corona-V; so much so, that they’ve totally mucked up their susceptible, submissive and subversive devotees’ heads.

It should come as no big surprise that gullible Trumpers adamantly refuse to mask-up to prevent the spread of COVID-19; a disease, which, in error, they either don’t believe exists or that they equate with a case of the sniffles.

While, in theory, it would still be possible for the soon-to-be President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris to take a crack at ending the pandemic, such an attempt would require the co-operation of everyone. However, considering the hopelessly brainwashed individuals they’ll need to contend with, just how, pray tell, will they ever work that miracle?

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Premonition? Reality?

Just prior to high noon, come January 20, 2021, we eyewitness the desperately clinging to power, Donald J. Trump, in the midst of, yet, another of his ferocious, rampaging, psychotic episodes. He’s pumped up on both Rx’d and ill-gotten, industrial strength narcotics, too. That harmful drug interaction’s side effects include split personality, superhuman strength and anal leakage.

In that incapacity, international terrorist Donald bin Laden, has crapped his pants while repurposing the resolute desk, furniture, assorted statuary, bric-a-brac, etc. to barricade all ingress to the Oval Office. He’s now taken to Twitter to Tweet out his odious terms and threat:

“If Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts does not administer the Oath of Office to ME, instead of Joe Biden; if the hugest Inauguration Day audience, ever, is not raucously chanting ‘Twenty-Four More Years’ and Sieg Heil’, I’ll launch the nukes and mushroom cloud the entire freakin’ world.”

At that horrific juncture, the Secret Service tacticians will be convening an emergency staff meeting to weigh their options. Little doubt, at the very least, there’ll be two game plans on the table.

PLAN A: Sever all of Donny’s links to the outside world, break out the battering ram, storm into the Oval Office and bark out the ultimatum:

“Listen up scum wad! EITHER we’ll drag you out kicking and screaming OR you can salvage what little is left of your self-respect and permit us to promptly frogmarch you off the premises and into the dumpster of history.”

PLAN B (Phase 1): Have Donny’s best buddy, TV’s propaganda minister Sean Hannity, talk him down. With bullhorn in hand, he’ll cajole the fake prez into granting entry to a Judge Roberts doppelgänger, who’ll inform him that a chauffeur driven, armor-plated stretch limo (well-stocked with his all-time, fave fast food), is parked out front to whisk them both off to the National Mall. En route, the fake prez will pig out on Egg McMuffins, Big Macs, Filet-O-Fish sandwiches and wash it all down with a supersized, Diet Coke (spiked with a powerful animal tranquilizer).

PLAN B (Phase 2): Once groggy Donny comes to, he’ll be locked up within a maximum security, mental institution; a perfect White House replica. It’ll then be incumbent on faux Roberts to duly warn Trump that a sudden, climate change fueled tempest has rendered the windswept, rain-soaked Inaugural site an inundated disaster area. VainMan Trump, facing down the prospect of a bad hair day, little doubt, will become amenable to taking his Oath of Office right within the Oval Office; especially when reassured that the television camera will be beaming and streaming the proceedings, worldwide, to an audience numbered in the billions.

PLAN B (Phase 3): From that day onward, Trump will be fed a steady diet of fake news, e.g., [1] all the world leaders have relinquished their power to him; have pledged their undying, unconditional subservience, [2] all 7.8 billion souls, worldwide have also pledged their everlasting devotion [3] the U.S. Constitution has been stuffed into the shredder, [4] Pope Francis has declared him God and [5] owing to a gaggle of moonlighting, Operation Warp Speed, white lab coated medicos, he has attained immortality.

ALL PLANS NIXED: In reality, Donald J. Trump will establish a new platform / network from which to launch his shadow presidency; for the express purpose of exacting revenge via his sabotage of Joe Biden’s best efforts to end the pandemic, climate change, systemic racism, misogyny, homophobia, inequality, poverty, etc.

The End

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The Tyke Prone To Bawl

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Consider the creature, so amoral and small
No preacher and teacher can reach him at all

He’ll grab at his Sharpie to redraw and scrawl,
His garbled amendments: ill-conceived overhaul

How odd that the “expert” at building “The Wall”
Could not contain COVID, per clear-cut protocol

Teched Tweets title self-portrait: The Tyke Prone To Bawl
Stump speech bleats invite, incite his freak fans to brawl

Both impudence and imprudence fuel his gall
Immaturity and impurity cause bad boy to stall

Our ballot box ouster, dethroned that oddball
Yet, to get him to scram, might prove order tall

To remain in high spirits, try high proof alcohol
Let’s hoist mugs to roast him; his flaws, faults, folderol!

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Sobering Stats and Somber Settings

This past Friday, U.S. cases of COVID-19 surpassed 11 million and, the following day, the fatalities skyrocketed to and beyond 1 quarter million. On this rainswept Sunday, of the 54.3 million sickened souls, worldwide, 1.3 million wound up sickened to death.

These sobering stats are likely understated, too; i.e., once we factor in the lack of readily available, reliable testing procedures and “our” cold, calculating, greed driven, less than forthcoming national “leaders”.

Alas, this catastrophe needn’t have happened at all.

Had these headstrong heads of state respected our world’s finest scientific minds and proactively, promptly and persistently enlightened everyone, accordingly, we could’ve all been working together to slow the spread of this ferociously communicable, predominantly airborne disease; to halt Corona-V dead in its tracks.

At present, our best defenses remain what they have been all along; shelter at home as much as possible and, when in public, mask-up and socially distance at least two meters / two yards apart.

Being in compliance with these best practices is our moral and civic duty to humanity.

Beyond that, let’s never lose sight of the human side to the above-mentioned stats; namely, how these numbers fail to take into account the oceans of tears shed by [1] the patients who’ve taken their last gasp of oxygen while isolated from their loved ones, [2] the survivors who’ve wound up disabled long haulers, [3] the dedicated medical professionals who, in spite of doing their very best, could not work the life saving miracles and, last but not least, [4] the surviving family members and friends who’ll mourn, forevermore, those who did not make it back home… well… at least not back to their homes found on earth.

2020’s upcoming holiday season is going to be particularly disappointing and, in countless instances, downright heartbreaking.

Social isolating will preclude our gathering around the dinner table, in large numbers, to consume the traditional turkey dinner with all the trimmings. But, lest anyone even begin to consider grousing about that, we must never forget the mourners who’ll be seated within their own dining rooms, tearfully staring across the table at the chairs rendered forever empty by that godforsaken, pitiless virus.

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If YouTube won’t let you PB the Enya clip, above, try viewing it offsite.

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U Can’t Get Stung (SundaySongSeries)

The Scorpions treat us to their performance of Loving You Sunday Morning. In so doing, they also become our Week #114 tour guides thru the wide world of Sunday titled songs.

Either view the clip above or over @YouTube (offsite option to benefit anyone experiencing playback probs).

Our next musical adventure embarks seven days from now. Hope you’ll be back. Till then…

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A Clearheaded Bird’s-Eye View

Mere moments ago, courtesy of a YouTube introduction, they opened my ears to SongBird, who has alighted on a branch that’s gently swaying in the winds of change. Thanks to the Interwebs, she is now omnipresent; perched outside ALL of our Windows.

For the benefit of all concerned souls, her joyous song, Let it Go, resolutely reassures us that there’s still hope for America; our home world.

Let’s all revel in her oh so delightful warbling, bask in her clearheaded message that refutes the temperamental Twittering Trump’s unTrue Tweets that he still rules the roost; rejoice in her tough love approach of informing Tweety that he must now [1] accept responsibility for all of his foul words and deeds, [2] concede he lost, [3] promptly molt his business suit, [4] test flap his political wings and [5] prepare to fly south for the winter where he must winter within his Mar-a-Lago gilded cage, forevermore.

Most assuredly, Tweety should feel damned lucky that, at least for the moment, he won’t be facing down the retribution that transcends the voters’ legally cast ballots, which have booted him out of his DC nest. Were justice to ever prevail, that li’l birdbrain would get ensnared in the legal system’s punishment, that is due him, for flagrantly flipping the bird at the laws of God and (wo)man.

Indeed, were fair play truly in play, it’d be high time for that birdbrain to become a jailbird; for dud orange Don to don orange duds!

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What is Not Final Jeopardy!

This will be my third post following Jeopardy! host Alex Trebek’s 11/08/20 merger with the universe. I’ve been attempting to put such a preoccupation into some sort of perspective. Beyond obviously missing him, here goes.

For 30 minutes, each weekday evening, we’ve found solace in observing this game show legend both displaying and presiding over intellectualism, levelheadedness, even-handedness, decency and normalcy. Alas, such righteous attributes (as vital as love, sustenance, water, oxygen, hearth and home) tend to get upstaged by every negative “ism” found within our shattered, shallow, contemporary society.

Transcending that, on a more personal note, it was during this game show’s early days, that my folks and I would gather around our living room TV to welcome Alex as we would another family member; to play along with the contestants, too. Even now, decades after my folks passed away, whenever I’m playing Jeopardy! in that very room, I can still sense their presence.

But let’s not get too far off topic. Let’s check out the Entertainment Tonight YouTube Channel blurb, to set up our first clip; as presented both above and offsite.

“ET spoke with ‘Jeopardy!’ executive producer Mike Richards on Sunday, following the death of the show’s long time host, Alex Trebek.”

Perhaps, the best tribute to Mr. Trebek is to mention how he would not let his iconic status go to his head. His good nature would prevail even when the inevitable, spare nothing, parodies of Jeopardy! surfaced. Whether he had directly participated in these comedy sketches, or not, he’d delight in, what in essence, was making light of himself. This gets amply showcased in our second clip featuring a Golden Girls episode. To set up this sendup, both below and offsite:

I’ve encoded this presentation to start at 6:01 (for further laughs, rewind to watch the show in it’s entirety). My apology re the technical anomalies. Believe it or not, this was the best of the three available uploads. Even so, our guffaws will rapidly make us forget the flaws. BTW, don’t miss Dorothy’s anti-Trump quip. Enjoy!

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