Warm regards…

 

The only warm regards befitting any lowlife, who would propose
sacrificing humanity, simply to fatten up stock market portfolios:
May you burn up in the Hell, of your own making, HERE on Earth
and face down Satan’s blazing inferno, once you do dwell in Hell!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fortune Cookie Blog (Halos or Horns?)

 

WHAT IF, “at the hour of our death”, there is this sudden revelation
that we must relive vivid memories of our Earthly words and deeds;
Throughout Eternity. Which cineplex venue would be more apropos
for the never-ending screenings of YOUR biopic? Heaven or Hell???

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fortune Cookie Blog (What the Hell?)

 

Why do hell raiser, wicked men tend to live unusually long lives?
That’s because God is delaying their arriival, out of His concern
they’d try to crash the Pearly Gates. That’s because Satan, too,
is doing his damnedest to back-burner them. He wants no part
of evil bastards hellbent on staging their hostile takeover of Hell.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Opera Meet Rock / Rock Meet Opera ~ Vid(s) of the Day

If you’ve ever admired the considerable vocal talents of Evanescence’s Amy Lee…

Guess what? You’re already an opera fan. Think Lee is the only one who can successfully belt out and merge her operatic lightening with thundering rock?

Guess again! For our proof, let’s welcome Cristina Ramos to the stage in our above Vid of the Day.

If you’re here only for the Vid of the Day, blog over. I thank you for clicking by.

However… if you’d like to view a bonus Vid of the Day, featuring Amy Lee’s emotion driven, hard rockin’ performance…

If you’re now content with hearing out both vids, blog over. I thank you, again, for your visit.

However… if you’d like to check out my (hopefully) amusing Highway to Hell short story… inspired by AC/DC the band that inspired Ramos… I now present…

The Highway To Hell: The BackStory

Ever since Day-1 of Grand Dragon Donny’s reckless regime, he took a fancy to impulsively flipping off all laws… inclusive of the speed limit. His bellowed, little boy, “WHEEEE” could be heard echoing up and down 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, while he lead footed it… tooled about carelessly and careened America downhill…

down…

down…

down…

down…

down…

down…

down the Highway to Hell…

WHEEEE!

Citizens all across the American fatherland and all across the globe had little choice but to be Donny’s captive passengers. As such, they soon found themselves on the final approach of a crash landing at the Hellmouth. Yet, while still multiple kilometers / miles above, they became eyewitness to Donny’s bailing out sans parachute! Even though driver-less, nobody seemed to notice the diff.

They could now virtually smell the stench of sulfur and feel its lung constricting capabilities bowling them over… see the fire and brimstone’s blinding glow and feel its searing heat… hear the ceaseless snorting and roaring of the beast, too! OMG, that beast wasn’t even Satan!

They soon realized that the stampeding in circles, snorting and roaring, fire-breathing Grand Dragon Donny’s multiple layers of jiggly fat had helped him make a soft landing just outside the Gates of Hell. Boing… Boing… Boing… Boing… Boing… 

Many incredulous passengers thought aloud in unison, “Just how the Hell could he have ever survived his yuge dive? Someone pointed out, “Are we really sure that he did? It’s entirely possible that… just like Donny’s income tax returns… he’s likely been effectively hiding his dual (American and Hadean) citizenship status / his undead condition.”

Everyone became dumbstruck while watching a totally pissed off Satan emerge. He stomped his hoofs and gruffly bellowed, “Damn it Donny, what the HELL are you doing down here… AGAIN? You know how much I loathe you. Hear me now! Hell shall forever be too good for an ornery cuss like you. I flat-out refuse to let you in! In fact, I intend to build a steep WALL just to ensure you never set your hoofs in the netherworld. And don’t you DARE roll your eyes at me. I’ve caught wind of your plot for a hostile takeover of Hell! How DARE you collude with bad Vlad to oust me! Why… with a snap of my fingers… I could built that wall! As Satan droned in high decibels, “Let there be WALL”, lo and behold the WALL materialized out of thin sulfurous air!

Dejected and jealous, Grand Dragon Donny lamented, “Geeze why can’t I do that along the Mexican border?” followed by his glum, woe-is-me whining, “What the Hell am I supposed to do now? I’m F’d!” With a devil may care leer, he suddenly snapped out of his funk to gleefully concede, “Oh well, I guess I’ll be summering back in DC. My hostile takeover of America could still be fun!”

And that said, stay tuned for Chapter 2.

I mean I could go on and on… but… my dear readers… I really need to purge my mind of this unnerving, unpresidential tale… as well as clear my lungs of the virtual sulfur congestion.

You might even hear my virtual hack… hack… hack… hack… hack… hack (j/k)
 (j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k)

Oh God… I’m dying…. (j/k)
 (j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k)… hack… hack… hack… hack… 
 somebody please call 9-1-1! (j/k)
 (j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k) 
(j/k)

In reality… that sulfur didn’t affect me in the least…

That clearly established… and lungs reasonably clear… blog over!

 

 

 

Did Gwen Ifill Die Of A Broken Heart?

American Peabody Award winning journalist, newscaster and political analyst Gwen Ifill died at age 61 on 11/14/2016… her too brief life and career cut short by Cancer. TV viewers, who frequent PBS, will forever, fondly remember and admire her for both the off and on-the-air contributions she made to society.

As an African-American woman, she had been a trailblazer for and champion of racial and gender equality. As a consummate professional, her impressive résumé included being the moderator / managing editor of Washington Week in Review and co-anchor / managing editor of the PBS News Hour. In both capacities she was and will forever be a role model and inspiration to girls and women of all ages.

Even news watchers, who habitually turn elsewhere to less reliable sources for their “information”, will still likely have strong recollections of Ifill’s topnotch work as debate moderator during the 2004 and 2008 presidential campaigns.

With an ailment as grave and unpredictable as Cancer, we can only conjecture about its ups and downs… what ushers it into remission… what triggers it to rage out of control.

But, I truly believe, with all my heart, that Ifill’s sudden and far too soon demise is attributable to the horrific outcome of last week’s presidential election… the defeat of Clinton… Hillary’s loss to a misogynist and racist… his campaign, itself, having set back, by centuries, what little progress women and racial minorities have achieved, to date. It’s a certainty that Ifill had known fully well how, once that knuckle-dragging Neanderthal takes the oath of office, he’ll promptly bomb civilized society all the way back to the Stone Age.

In short, although her death certificate lists Cancer as the official cause, Gwen Ifill actually died of a broken heart.

I’ve witnessed, first hand, this phenomenon before. Back in 2003, it involved my own 89-year-old mother, who, to say the least, had been devastated and demoralized by the outcome of the 2000 presidential election… i.e., how George W. Bush and five corrupt, archconservative, bastard SCOTUS “judges” had colluded to deny Al Gore his legal right to a recount of the ballots in Florida… how their screwing over Gore had given birth to W’s illegitimate presidency.

My Mom’s deep depression had only worsened after W, the bungling incompetent, had gotten caught with his Commander-In-Chief pants down on 9/11, AND, in the post apocalyptic aftermath, when his too little / too late preserving, protecting and defending of America caused him to overreact… to strip all Americans of their Constitutionally guaranteed freedoms.

In short, although her death certificate lists old age as the official cause, my Mom actually died of a broken heart.

Seeing how we liberals, at present, are sinking into the depths of our own post Election Day funk, we can only speculate on how much this is all shortening our own lifespans. Of course… all in all… that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

Come Inauguration Day, when that tyrant begins his reign of terror, We the People, who oppose him, can take some solace in knowing that his depressing us to death… well… this could be our early ticket out.

For us, serving in Heaven (or even winding up in oblivion) would have to be infinitely preferable to watching him ruling in the Hell of his own making… than our being forced to exist within his Hell on Earth.

We’d also be able to rejoice in knowing that, once in Heaven / oblivion, we’d never be forced to cross paths with the likes of him again.

R.I.P. Gwen Ifill… at least there can be peace for you.