The Scrambled Egg (UnInvented)

Bloganuary writing prompt

If you could un-invent something, what would it be?

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My mission would involve un-inventing one of the most existential threats to Stateside and Worldwide democracy and decency since Hitler’s reign of terror; namely, by getting right down the root of the problem; namely, ensuring Donald J. Trump had never been born. My plan’s very best “selling feature”, here, is how my work towards that glorious outcome would all unfold imperceptibility, peaceably and (virtually) painlessly (btw, read to blog’s end for clarification re that parenthetical “virtually”).

Key to my success begins with working backwards from MAGAMAN’s Friday, 14 June 1946 birthday. Cracking open our human biology textbooks at the chapter devoted to female physiology and hauling out our calendars and calculators, we’d next need to ascertain when his FAR-Far-far from immaculate conception had gone down.

Considering the average pregnancy lasts 280 days, that’d mean Donny-To-Be’s devil daddy, Fred, had deployed his demon seed warriors sometime during late summer; his most likely scrambling mommy Mary’s laid egg on Friday, September 7th, 1945.

OK, so much for that dirty deed’s WHEN, but, what about the WHERE?

Perusing world historical accounts, as well as frisky Fred’s bio likely situates that conjugally canoodling couple Stateside; to be more precise, within their New York / Queens / Jamaica Estates stomping grounds. I mean, in view of those troubled times, it’d be way more likely that they were homebodies rather than globetrotters; seeing how…

• World War II had officially ended only a scant five days earlier
• war-torn populaces were in no mood to be welcoming tourists

At this point, all that’d be missing would be somehow, someway stumbling onto a fully functional time machine, oh, say, to make it conceivable to thwart fertility’s (late August thru early September 1945) window of opportunity.

More to my point, to utterly ruin Fred and Mary Trump’s amorous mood; oh, say, by my popping outta thin air to present mister real estate mogul the (fake) opportunity of the millennium; to waylay ol’ Fredo within his way past closing time office; to get him so distracted by his own greed that sex would absolutely be the very last thing on his mind.

In other words, no sex / no Donald.

That joyous storybook conclusion totally confirmed by Aunt Flo making her regular monthly rounds; inclusive of paying Mary a visit; all the while keeping everything virtually painless… uh, sorry to say… save for some short-lived, mild cramping.

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Be humans Vaxxed OR Unvaxxed, We
can still shed and spread the batcrap
crazy contagious coronavirus which,
in turn, spawns new variants; which,
in turn, could, eventually, render the
available vaccines worthless; which,
in turn, will drag out the pandemic’s
needless suffering, illness and death!

HENCE… this easy as pie, cover your
nose and pie-hole/hole-up heads-up:

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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The Great American Stink-Out!

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Seeing how, Stateside, the two-party political juggernaut chronically churns out corporately owned and operated, ragged, non-rugged Prez Wannabes, come the 2024 election cycle, we can count on catching, YET, another whiff of… TA DA…

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Fusty Musty Donald J. Trump v. Old Spice(less) Joe Biden

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Here’s the rub. Biden has yet to fully grasp the severity of the hardcore, Trumper Republicans’ lopsided political playing field; aka their malodorous War on Democracy; their anti-American conspiracy, which absolutely reeks of extreme, unconstitutional, voter suppression laws and egregiously gerrymandered districts.

As such, naïve Biden has lulled himself into the false impression that ALL HE NEED DO is merely air out his stale, “I’m NOT Trump!” campaign motto / mantra and that’ll do what? Snag him a second term?

Sorry to say, Joe IS already miscasting his upcoming, political race in Aesopian terms; i.e., Biden in the role of the svelte, speedy Hare; Trump in the role of the roly-poly, lumbering Tortoise. And the Hare is likely in for a rude awakening. How so?

Well, according to Aesop…

“The story concerns a Hare who ridicules a slow-moving Tortoise. Tired of the Hare’s arrogant behaviour, the Tortoise challenges him to a race. The hare soon leaves the tortoise behind and, confident of winning, takes a nap midway through the race. When the Hare awakes, however, he finds that his competitor, crawling slowly but steadily, has arrived before him.”

Wikipedia Essay [Read More Here]
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Applying a Poli-Sci spin to Aesop…

Come November 2024, Hare Biden’s 2020 supporters will EITHER vote for less electable, 3rd and 4th party presidential wannabes, OR leave blank their ballots’ presidential section, OR not show up at the polls AT ALL; hence Tortoise Trump’s Electoral College victory and the defeat / demise of Ecology, Democracy, Liberty, Literacy and Civility.

Truth be told, President Biden desperately needs an unconventional, highly inventive, campaign manager; a person who could far better articulate dedicated, Anti-Trump / Anti-Fascism messaging; PLUS orchestrate a modicum of mischief. In that dual capacity, I just might prove Joe’s go-to guy.

Here’s the skinny. My game plan draws upon basic, postpubescent biochemistry. You see, nearly all adults are well-armed to most effectively present our Trump Trump / Dump Trump rationale / sentiments; even better, in our down to the nitty-gritty, pitty manner. Actually, in this instance, it’d be better to be underarmed.

Ahem, ahem, what I’m proposing, here, is (a drum roll please)…

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The Great American Stink-Out!

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The onset of our olfactory onslaught would focus on consistently, attending Trump rallies; i.e., PUBLICLY baring arms… uh… our underarms… our unwashed, no applied deodorant / antiperspirant pits. And, just to ensure everything “ripens” to perfection, a mandatory shaving moratorium also needs to be in effect for the duration. Now, here’s where this really, Really, REALLY GETS GOOD! As we all know, the way Ma Nature has designed us, the more passionate we feel about matters, the more we sweat and the more we stink!

Our concerted efforts to curl nose hairs would run the entire 2024 election cycle; from its earliest days all the way up to the close of the Election Day polls. We’d be targeting, in particular, the climate change intensified, sweltering, summertime heatwaves to peaceably protest outside the Republican National Convention venue; with all of our bared arms raised skyward.

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Yep, we’d all be literally Stinkin’ to High Heaven!

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Naturally, we’d need to reassure all prepubescents, who, understandably so, would be feeling a tad left out of all of our funky fun. Not to worry, kiddies, you can always raid your elders’ dirty clothes hampers to snag the requisite, pre-stinked T-shirts. Even if they prove a bit oversized, they could always be repurposed as capes OR (once nailed to a dowel) waved about like flags.

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Now, that’s what I’d brand as the e-PIT-ome of patriotism!

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And, just to make damned sure that each and every MAGA Maggot / Moron we’d meet can totally grasp the true blue meaning of our odor, we’d need to silkscreen emblazon our T-shirts with the message:

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Ya think I stink bad?
Trump’s Fascist Stench
will be the Absolute Pits!

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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Wading Thru Roe v. Wade’s Deep End

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Preface: The original, official WP Time Stamp:
CommonSenseTom 12:31 pm on May 8, 2019
3-fold motivation to reblog my 3-year-old post:

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• The May 3, 2022 leaking of Supreme… correction… Extreme Court Justice Samuel Alito’s rough draft; one that virtually vows to run roughshod over Women’s Rights; i.e., by overturning the Supreme Court’s, 1973 Roe v. Wade decision, which had legalized abortion. Beyond that, now that Alito’s views are in the public domain, among his five conservative bench-mates, who’d ever feel free to possibly mitigate their colleague’s hardcore harangue; perhaps present their own dissent?
• While I steadfastly believe in gender equality / women’s rights; maintain that misogynistic, big government control freaks have absolutely NO RIGHT to intrude in the procreative process (one of the most personal issues conceivable); NO RIGHT to insist every pregnant person gets left holding the (unwanted) baby; that I, myself, have NO RIGHT to impose my own life-begins-at-conception belief upon anybody else, NONETHELESS, I cannot help but wonder how we ever wound up with a society that, apparently, doesn’t give a F about parenthood?*
• Seeing how I don’t have all the answers to such a complex issue, I am interested in your thoughts; perhaps reactions to my past post, “The Right To Choose: An Evolution? A Revolution?” as well as any other articles / videos you’ve read / viewed? Let’s meet up, BACK HERE, to start and sustain an intelligent, courteous, comment section thread.

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*BTW, I’m not excluding myself from my own societal critique; tho my (from age 12 onward) opt-out from parenthood is deeply rooted in my ongoing ecological, ideological and socioeconomical misgivings; belief that our world is unfit for human habitation.

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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Mother’s Day Meditations

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While primordial biology, eventually, assigned humans specific generative duties, in this man’s book…

• A woman, ISO a full life, need not, necessarily, comply with such age-old mandates. It’s each woman’s birthright (if she so chooses) to avoid becoming a time clock punching laborer; one shackled to the Procreation Factory’s assembly line.
• Of greater significance, actual motherhood is not a prerequisite for a woman to discern and display humanity’s Sunday Best traits; such sensibilities being second nature to her (hope my genuine compliment isn’t misinterpreted as sexism).
• The human race would wind up discernibly better off were our educational, spiritual, corporate and governmental leaders women.

While far from a complete inventory, check out some potential societal improvements; i.e., were women to rule the world.

• Wars (little more than territorial pissing contests) would soon peter out; be such battlefields locatable by latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates OR merely the uncharted, irrational notions ricocheting between vacuous males’ ears.
• Class wars would enjoy a cease fire too; namely, when the avaricious, asinine little wittle boy billionaires would no longer be permitted to lust after the unrestrained accumulation of wealth; when no bullshit tax laws would redistribute their hoarded, oft ill-gotten loot (the megabucks they could’ve never fully pissed away had they lived to celebrate their 50,000th birthday.
• The war between the sexes would also wind down were misogynist males forbidden to control women’s bodies.
• Womankind would also, first, show the exit signs to the male architects of our pigsty / shithouse world; next, usher in a more verdant, viable environment.

Hence, my holiday message to womankind, worldwide…

Motherhood can be aligned with embryology and/or ideology. Wherever you fit in within the grand scheme of life…

Happy Mother’s Day 2021!

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Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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What Would the Wise (Wo)Man Do?

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Alt-Headline: Covid-21? 22? 23? 24 etc.?

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In some respects, this liberal man has opted to live his life conservatively; i.e., cautiously. That stems from my determination not to depart the Land of the Living prior to the arrival of the Best By / Expiration Date, which my bygone manufacturer(s) had invisibly, indelibly stamped on my butt. How adamant am I? Glad you asked!

I am fully prepared to adopt an interminable coronavirus common sense stance. The Covid-19 vaccines notwithstanding, I fully intend to continue hunkering down at home as much as possible and keep on publicly social distancing and masking-up; as in long, Long, LONG after the medical experts, eventually, silence the Star Trekian RED ALERT klaxons. Why?

For starters, our donning our masks during late 2020 and early 2021 did dramatically reduce transmission of the regular flu virus (and rhinoviruses, too).

Beyond that? There’s insufficient certainty re the duration of the existing vaccines’ protection and whether or not the virologists will be able to keep up with the arrival of the insanely dangerous, coronavirus variants.

Beyond beyond that? What if, as I type and you read these words, there’s another global pandemic looming; oh, say a Covid-21? And if not a 21, what about a Covid-22? 23? 24 etc.?

Year numbers are no different that regular numbers. Just as you and I can easily pick a number, just as easily, virus hunters can always tack on one integer WHEN they discover a new microbe. And note that word choice BOILS DOWN to WHEN and not IF.

Even the idiomatic phrase BOILS DOWN is likely apt. To e.g. that…

What if climate change, in other words, our far, Far, FAR warmer planet, is already providing a more hospitable environment for microbes? In other words, what if human shortsightedness has resulted in our unwittingly constructing something akin to a global lab; its petri dishes incubating / cooking up / churning out difficult to contain, ferociously communicable, deadly to humankind pestilence?

While, for now, that may all sound like some scary, nightmarish plot to a bizarre Sci-Fi flick, do keep in mind that it’s also insanely easy for you and I to twice press our keyboards’ delete key to eliminate that above “Fi”.

Ergo… I’ll copy and paste this post’s above headline:

What Would the Wise (Wo)Man Do?

Stay Publicly / Properly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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A homebody & houseplant’s family trees

Ever since Thanksgiving, I’ve been admiring one of life’s few bright moments of 2020; the blooming of my family’s Christmas Cactus (botanists refer to it as Schlumbergera Truncata).

Following nearly an entire year’s worth of worthless events, which have torn life, as we once knew it, asunder, I could not help but let out my contented sigh, just this early a.m., as this profound sense of normalcy washed over me.

Imagine That! At least plant life can STILL get everything right!

Who couldn’t feel respect, even awe, for this decorative, stunningly attractive houseplant’s genetic instructions, all firmly rooted in antiquity; how this horticultural marvel knows how to decorate itself; and just in time for humankind’s year ending holidays, too!

However, what transcends even this wonderment, at least for me, is the symbiotic, oxygen / carbon dioxide, relationship between plant and animal life; the interactive merger of our two family trees.

While, re the ancestry aspects, I cannot dig much deeper than two generations ago, we must’ve met at some point shortly after the turn of the 20th century, when both sets of my grandparents emigrated stateside. At that juncture, the green thumb belonged to my maternal grandmother, who passed on in 1960.

Shortly thereafter, my mom’s sister began making regular Minnesota to Michigan Greyhound Bus trips to summer with us. On one of her early to mid 1970 visits, she brought along several “cuttings” from their mom’s Christmas Cactus. I recall watching, intently, as these two, green thumbed sisters expertly and successfully potted them.

I’m pretty sure that throughout all the decades that were to follow, my mom found much solace in the continuity; i.e., from just knowing that a part of her dear mother’s plant was now thriving within our household; would be brightening up all of our Christmases.

Then, when my mother passed on in 2003, it’d appear that I had inherited enough of her green thumb skills to ensure her houseplants would continue to flourish. And now I, too, sense that continuity; that same solace; just from knowing that my mom’s mom’s plant continues / will continue to brighten up my own Christmases.

I also sense a kindred spirit. Said she…

“During the holidays, the stores are filled with acres of blooming Christmas cacti. They flower brightly with blooms in red, pink, yellow, orange, white or purple. The average gardener can’t keep their hands from clasping one or more in exotic colors and rushing to the cash register. But at some point, reality intrudes and you not only want to keep it alive, you would like to have it bloom in future years. Why, you might even be leaving a giant, magnificent Christmas cactus to your heirs.” [read more here].

Ms. Gretchen Voyle • Michigan State University Extension • December 1, 2011

My best wishes, throughout our troublesome, 2020 holiday season. Hopefully you, too, can find similar solace while experiencing life’s simpler moments. With caution and patience, eventually, a more robust reality will be our reward.

Stay Publicly Masked!
Stay Safe at Home!
Stay Healthy!

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I’ll Bet We All Can Outdo This Tune’s Dude!

 

While the Coronavirus Pandemic’s highly recommended, social isolation protocols (to say the least) have been trying and tiring, we must never take our eyes off the Grand Prize. After all, our being temporarily bored to death is an equitable trade off… i.e., seeing how the alternative could be inclusive of death, itself.

Every moment we spend in seclusion helps slow the spread of contagion and WILL buy precious time for the medical community to diagnose / treat / cure the ever-increasing backlog of patients and, ultimately, facilitate the healthcare professionals’ selfless, heroic efforts to contain / conquer this potentially genocidal pathogen.

Key to a happy outcome for humanity, is our helping ourselves to some pleasurable diversions. When left to my own devices, that involves two keyboards (computer and piano), hanging out at WordPress and tracking thru my CD, LP, VHS and DVD libraries. And should I ever tire of such star quality (actors and musicians), there’s literal stargazing, too (both naked-eye and telescopic). When left to your own devices, I’m confident you can easily outdo my own boredom fighting MO.

Now, speaking of musicians… this would be a great time to return to this post’s headline, thusly…

 

That dude would be the very character, which the Statler Brothers’ crackerjack composer, Lew DeWitt, portrays within the track Flowers On The Wall. As he presents his musical vignette, he sums up, succinctly, what has got to be one of the worst cases of cabin fever on record.

To quote Wikipedia’s storyline synopsis:

“The singer assures a concerned neighbor that, even though he rarely, if ever, leaves his home, he leads a full life: counting flowers on the wallpaper, playing solitaire with a deck of 51 cards all night and well into the morning, smoking, watching Captain Kangaroo and pretending to go out.” (read more here).

BTW, smoking would be ill-advised. Not really preaching… just saying…

As for anyone who now may be asking, “Who the hell is Captain Kangaroo?”

Well, to the very first generation of TV tykes (inclusive of yours truly) our idolized Captain (a.k.a. Bob Keeshan) was a kiddie show pioneer (akin to Mr. Fred Rogers). The clip below… as well as this Wiki Link… will help fill in a few more details.

If you still find yourself ISO a great diversion, why not follow up this blog’s vids with additional YouTube content. That platform’s library is as limitless as the ever-expanding multiverse above.

 

To all who’ve stopped by on this day, I wish you well! To all who are ailing, my hopes and prayers for a full, speedy recovery. Please stay safe by continuing to heed the following common sense, disease fighting advice…

[1] Practice good hygiene (scrub hands often at least 20 seconds), [2] Cover coughs and sneezes, [3] Avoid touching eyes, nose and mouth, [4] Social distancing (remain 2 meters / 6 feet apart [5] avoid large crowds or (ideally) just stay at home and [6] if ill, self quarantine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Let’s play the Bad News / Good News / Bottom Line game!

 

BAD NEWS: Donald J. Trump is hell bent on defying his own Coronavirus Task Force. That temperamental, money-grubber’s planned noncompliance would pit his own crass, craven political ambitions against the best, science-based advice of the coolheaded, Medical Doctors Jerome Adams (Surgeon General), Anthony S. Fauci, Deborah L. Birx and Robert R. Redfield.

BOTTOM LINE: That avarice driven, corrupt businessman’s deadly intent will prematurely reopen America for biz by relaxing vital to humankind’s survival, social distancing / isolation protocols.

GOOD NEWS: Since, all along, it’s been the Governors who’ve been shutting down their respective states, only they can reopen the homeland.

BOTTOM LINE: Good Governors might outwit an Evil Nitwit.

BAD NEWS: It would not be beyond the Narcissist / Terrorist Trump to punish each governor who flat-out refuses to kiss his ass / knuckle under to his deadly demands.

BOTTOM LINE: Such Trumpian retribution would likely involve his heartless plot to cut off financial and medical aid earmarked for the plague states. For hundreds of thousands…. maybe even tens of millions… of Coronavirus stricken and sickened Americans that would mean needless suffering for some… premature, pointless death for others.

GOOD NEWS: That latter group will be cured of their Coronavirus infections and freed from Trumpian tyranny.

BOTTOM LINE: They’ll be cordially invited to attend that Big Family Reunion in the Sky

BAD NEWS: Coronavirus Round II… akin to the 2nd Shot Heard Around The World… will reassert itself with a vengeance.

BOTTOM LINE: Best case scenario? Humankind will wind up an endangered species. Worst case scenario? We’ll go extinct.

GOOD NEWS: My worst fears nearly never come true. Posting them on the www, might even be setting myself up for the embarrassment of being proven dead wrong.

BOTTOM LINE: I could live with that. And so could you.

 

To all who’ve stopped by on this day, I wish you well! To all who are ailing, my hopes and prayers for a full, speedy recovery. Please stay safe by continuing to heed the following common sense, disease fighting advice…

[1] Practice good hygiene (scrub hands often at least 20 seconds), [2] Cover our coughs and sneezes, [3] Avoid touching eyes, nose and mouth, [4] Social distancing (remain 2 meters / 6 feet apart [5] avoid large crowds or (ideally) just stay at home and [6] if ill, self quarantine.

 

 

 

 

Microbe vs. Microbrain

 

Ever since coronavirus / COVID-19 has infiltrated our home world… homelands… hometowns, I’ve been… to say the least… attempting to put this mess into some sort of perspective. After all, an idled global populace doth have plenty of time on its hands to mull it all over.

I’ve been searching through an entire lifetime’s worth of my memories… the big question:

Have any past presidents ever threatened the survival of the entire human race before… i.e., to the point where the citizenry had felt compelled to inflict house arrest upon themselves?

• My earliest memory involves the October 16–28, 1962 Cuban Missile Crisis where John F. Kennedy and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev had gotten into a territorial pissing contest… even backing up there back and forth childish threats and missile envy with (phallic symbol) rocketry to target each others’ homelands.

In spite of my tender years, I can still vividly recall the highly atypical sight of a goodly portion the my school system’s bus fleet parked right in front of my Elementary School… all day long… always ready to rush us back home were either leader to (literally) go ballistic. Even though my Mom and Dad did deliver an impromptu, age-appropriate lecture on international tensions / impending war, I was still too naive to fully grasp such concepts / consequences… namely… the possibility of my own death… the death of loved ones… the death of civilization, itself. In essence, my innocence had spared me much.

• Then, when I was four decades wiser, came the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks… owing their success to George W. Bush’s failures. How so? Well, in spite of W seeing (and promptly flipping off) the five weeks in advance, intelligence reports warning of Osama bin Laden’s impending domestic attacks, that slacker chose not lift even a pinkie finger to… oh… say… beef up national security. Next, came the September 18 – October 12, 2001 Anthrax attacks where the U.S. Postal Service had become the unwitting carriers of terrorist parcels loaded with that deadly, powdery pathogen.

From September 12th and onward until year’s end, an eerie feeling of impending doom creeped me out whenever I ventured back into the real world. After all, nobody could say, with certainty, if more terrorist sleeper cells existed in America (or not) and how soon they’d be awakening (if ever). In essence, returning to my workplace had kept me busy and spared me much.

The diff between those long ago and current events… Kennedy and Khrushchev did manage to zipper-up (as it were) in less than two weeks. As for bin Laden, it soon become evident that his terrorist agenda had required (and no longer had) the element of surprise. Naturally, the best news of all, was how the number of new Anthrax exposures, illnesses and deaths had quickly fallen to zero. Ergo, we were able to reclaim our lives (such as they were / are) in a (more or less) timely manner.

And that, precisely, is what makes Donald J. Trump’s coronavirus Crisis far worse. The very nature of this pathogen has not only weirded us out, but has also made damned sure that we won’t be able to quickly restore any significant semblance of normalcy into our lives. To try to do so, too soon, could cause a resurgence of reported cases… and then we’d be forced back into, yet an even longer normalcy-robbing quarantine… and so on… and so on… and so on….

Also, Kennedy and, yes, even W, had been able to get the upper hand in dealing with their enemies… the former man relying on brainpower… the latter on dumb luck.

In essence… Trump’s severe under-funding of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the National Institutes of Health has plundered both organizations of vital resources… especially the human resources (a.k.a. the professionals who are uniquely qualified to prevent / fight pandemics).

In other words… the micro-brained fake prez has permitted a mere microbe to get the upper hand… to make a fool of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Is the Tyrant-o-saurus Rex Still on a Rampage?

Journalist and Radio Personality Joshua Johnson hosts the vital to democracy and liberty program, 1A, which is produced by WAMU and distributed by NPR throughout my homeland (as well as being www accessible). BTW, his show’s name refers to the U.S. Constitution’s 1st Amendment, which among other important items… stands for…

“…freedom of speech… the press and the right of the people [to] peaceably assemble and… petition the Government for a redress of [their] grievances.”

Earlier today, Johnson’s program diverted from his typical political fare by featuring an interview with paleobotanist and geologist Kirk Johnson… who’s also the director of The Smithsonian National Museum of Natural History. FYI, past 1A programs are oft accessible from Joshua’s website menu. However, as of my posting time, today’s discussion was not yet available. Maybe later today?

Anyway, I found their dialogue about Tyrannosaurus Rex quite fascinating. Consider how the T-Rex… sans the services of any big name PR firms, Hollywood Agents and Fox “News” has still managed to establish his big… and I mean YUGE… name and maintain an intergenerational, international fan base… one which, apparently, has not waned one iota over the course of the past 68 Million years!

Doncha agree that this is quite “The Feat”… seeing how back in the day… uh… really, Really, REALLY back in the day… this once-upon-a-time feared and now extinct (?) dinosaur, had boasted anatomical marvels… e.g., two, way too tiny hands, which were stunningly disproportionate to his way too big head and gargantuan body and YET also managed to be on par with his puny reptilian brain. Additionally, this beastly creature was notorious for constantly going on continental rampages to [1] vent his insane, insatiable rage, [2] overplay his Rex / Kingly status and [3] enforce his reputation as a beyond redemption badass… the enemy of all the other, more decent creatures (great and small) of that (or any other) epoch.

Hmm… methinks this loathsome beast… far worse than the Loch Ness Monster… may not have gone totally extinct, after all!

Has not Tyrant-o-saurus Rex been frequently spotted in the vicinity of DC’s deep, dank, murky, fetid swamp waters flowing adjacent to and even flooding the cellar of a painted white house at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?

Perhaps the Johnson and Johnson team… both radioman Joshua and scientist Kirk… need to dig deeper into this matter?