Will Past Performance Predict Future Results?

 

North Korea warming up to Washington? Kim Jong Un and Donald Trump favoring words over weapons? Both combatants sheathing their nuclear sabers and, instead, sitting down at the negotiating table?

While we, the shrewd, sane and peaceable people of our world, should savor this momentary respite in world tensions, we must also remain realistic.

Never forget we are talking about the same Trump, who royally PO’d Mexico’s President Enrique Peña Nieto during a telephone chat… so much so that the angered Nieto cancelled their scheduled face to face meeting. The bone of contention had been Trump’s boondoggle border wall… Donny’s totally bizarre insistence that Mexico must completely foot the bill for its construction.

True, “past performance does not necessarily predict future results”. However it would be totally within character for capricious, delusional DT to firmly grasp at any North Korean extended olive branch…

And then promptly use it to conk KJU over the head!

 

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Rising the Phoenix from the Radioactive Ashes?

 

It’d be an understatement to say January 2018’s events had been unnerving. It all started with a Tweet, posted by a cyberbully who, due to his well-known character flaws of self-importance, imprudence, impudence and ignorance, needs no further introduction. Said he…

 

“North Korean Leader Kim Jong Un just stated that the “Nuclear Button is on his desk at all times.” Will someone from his depleted and food starved regime please inform him that I too have a Nuclear Button, but it is a much bigger & more powerful one than his, and my Button works! — Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) January 3, 2018”

 

How reckless of “Tweetie” to further engage and enrage his temperamental North Korean nuclear nemesis… particularly considering how their past rounds of infantile squabbling have already left the entire world on the brink of WW-III.

And to what end? I mean, here we witness the so-called prez, perhaps obsessing over not measuring up below his own bloated belly’s bellybutton? Maybe compensating for that shortcoming by boasting, online, about the size of his “nuclear button”?

As if that weren’t already bad enough, on January 13th, Hawaiians faced down what they believed to be a nuclear nightmare-come-true. Indeed, they had (erroneously) received the stark warning that a ballistic missile was already en route, inward bound… that thermonuclear exchange and the annihilation of humanity was imminent.

Then, on January 15th, I had unwittingly exacerbated my own anxieties… i.e., by switching on my FM radio at precisely the wrong moment. It had been quite disconcerting to hear the Emergency Alert System attention signal already blaring away… likely the exact same menacing monotone that had needlessly scared the crap out of my Hawaiian compatriots. My first reaction… “WTF did that numbskull narcissist do now?” Yep, I actually had groaned that aloud.

Of course, in that instance, it had been an actual alert… an AMBER Alert to help track down the whereabouts of a missing, perhaps abducted child.

My nerves, nonetheless, had become a bit frazzled. I was more than ready for some much needed escapism… perhaps courtesy of the Comet TV Network? However, once more, this proved to be ill-timed. I was now watching their feature presentation: Panic In Year Zero… a low budget, post apocalyptic film… a production that would have never won any awards for special effects. BUT it sure as hell did offer up a plausible portrayal of nuclear war’s grotesque side effect… societal breakdown… e.g. the male characters, first, becoming hunter-gatherers and, next… once their testosterone poisoning began kicking in full force… they further devolved into little more than knuckle-draggers… their predominant MO being pillaging, raping and manslaughter.

Then… just about when I thought it was safe to go outside, again, and get on with my life… on January 16th, a totally unexpected flash over my home state lit up my nighttime skies and generated an accompanying, minor, sonic boom… wound up fully backlighting my closed, thickly insulated kitchen and dining room curtains and “rocking” my home’s brick, mortar and drywall. Once more I groaned, aloud, “WTF did that numbskull narcissist do now?”

All the sudden I found myself desperately searching though my brain’s “files” for some “plain vanilla” type explanation… oh… say… thundersnow. However, just as quickly as I had hatched that theory, I had to debunk it. True, there had been a heavy  snowfall on that day… BUT… the extreme cold air mass, which had descended immediately afterwards, certainly would’ve made wintertime lightening… already a meteorological rarity… even more so.

The good news was that night’s 11 o’clock news story, which fully cleared up the mystery… a meteor had plunged to Earth. Yet, I could not help but wonder. Had that rocky space debris’ flight plan, instead, sent it streaking over Washington DC, how would “Prez” Tweetie have reacted / overreacted?

Factoring in his repugnance for intellectuals and all time honored, scientific principles (e.g. recall how he stared… sans eye protection… at 2016’s solar eclipse after being warned not to), it’s easy to see how his response would’ve been to trust his (cheeseburger glutted) gut and “go ballistic”.

The late astronomer / author Carl Sagan postulated along similar lines. From his book, Cosmos… Chapter IV – Heaven and Hell… I’ve condensed his observations from pages 73 – 76 (inclusive)…

 

“In the early morning hours of June 30, 1908, in Central Siberia, a giant fireball was seen moving rapidly across the sky. Where it touched the horizon, an enormous explosion took place. It leveled some 2,000 square kilometers of forest and burned thousands of trees in a flash fire near the impact site. It produced an atmospheric shock wave that twice circled the Earth.

This remarkable occurrence is called the Tunguska Event [and] was probably caused by an icy cometary fragment about a hundred meters across – the size of a football field – weighing a million tons , moving about 30 kilometers per second, 70,000 miles per hour.

If such an impact occurred today it might be mistaken, especially in the panic of the moment, for a nuclear explosion. The cometary impact and fireball would simulate all effects of a one megaton nuclear burst, including the mushroom cloud, with two exceptions: there would be no gamma radiation or radioactive fallout.

Could a rare but natural event… trigger a nuclear war? A strange scenario: A small comet hits the Earth… and the response of our civilization is promptly to self-destruct. It might be a good idea for us to understand comets and collisions and catastrophes a little better than we do… this is a real possibility and underscores the dangers in an age of nuclear weapons of not monitoring impacts from space better than we do.”

 

January’s unsettling events have since compelled me to seriously evaluate how I’d react IF… more likely WHEN… “Tweetie” provokes WW-III. One certainty… we could never expect a “prez”, ignorant enough to use social media for such an antisocial purpose, to ever effectively cope with the resultant nuclear wasteland… and far more importantly, even begin to sense the “survivors'” physical pain, mental anguish and emotional drain. Nope, he could never rise that phoenix from the radioactive ashes.

Under those dire circumstances, the “survivors”, most assuredly, would need flawless leadership… someone possessing the resolve, resourcefulness and reasoning power of Sci-Fi botanist / astronaut, Mark Watney… portrayed by actor Matt Damon… in the Hollywood big screen film, The Martian. To synopsize the plot and Watney’s plight, after winding up marooned on the otherwise barren of life, totally inhospitable Mars, he was left to figure out… every single minute of every single “Sol” (day)… all that he’d need to accomplish to survive. He wound up summing everything up, thusly

 

“So, in the face of overwhelming odds, I’m left with only one option: I’m gonna have to science the shit out of this.”

 

 

So what would the Trumpian response be? Well, once the fallout had settled, the holed up in his underground “prez” would emerge from his lead encased bunker… utterly clueless as to how to cope with an unearthly, uninhabitable Earth. He could never possess even a minuscule fraction of Mark Watney’s textbook knowhow and survivor instincts.

Worse yet, the “prez” would know no real life “Watneys” and even if the scientific community did step forward to offer their advice and services, “Tweetie” would still turn a deaf ear… would denigrate and spurn them. Consequently, the “prez” would preside over his world… no strike that… rule over a shithole nation and planet of his own making. Even far worse than that, he would still expect high praise and applause from countless hordes of beleaguered walking cadavers who’d be sloughing off their burnt flesh, puking their guts out… and dropping dead.

Returning to the here and now… IF… more likely WHEN… our Emergency Alert System starts signaling the end of the world… I’ll be lacing up my Sketchers and jogging, full speed ahead, towards Ground Zero… not away from it. I mean, given the two options of…

A. Existing within Donald Trump’s virtually lifeless, hopeless, burnt to a cinder, irradiated shithole nation and planet.
B. Dying and taking my chances with attaining either eternal life or facing down godforsaken oblivion.

I’d opt-in to choice “B”.

So, my readers, my comment section is the venue to tell the whole world what you’d choose. It’ll only take a few seconds to type in your one character… either your “A” or “B”… response.

Of course, other lengthier comments are also welcome.

 

 

Tweetstorms, Terrorism, Taxes & Testosterone

 

Being a big fan of alliteration, I could not help but notice all of the “T” words in which one can neatly compartmentalize this past year’s front page news… hence my above blog headline.

Indeed, we are just about ready to say, “Good-bye”… or more to the point… “Good riddance” to 2017… a lousy year that was all about unevolved, little boys trapped in grown men’s bodies… little boys behaving badly… very, Very, VERY BADLY!

While I never opted into parenthood… nonetheless… my fatherly nature is still thoroughly ingrained within my DNA. To be sure, every instinct within my being now tells me that the time is ripe for some much overdue Father – Son chats.

And in spite of these talks involving XY entities, I still invite and encourage everyone in possession of XX chromosomes to read on, as well.

 

Tweetstorms

 

Bad Boy Donny:

You have the uncanny knack of knowing the exact wrong thing to say at any given moment… and then ignorantly and undiplomatically Tweeting / uttering your inflammatory words. Most notably and worrisome is how you’ve been targeting the enemy of your own making… North Korea’s Kim Jong Un.

Are you even remotely aware of how much carnage your “fire and fury” Tweetstorms could unleash? How there’s the potential for other, mentally deranged “world leaders” getting into that “the more the merrier” and “let’s all pile on” mindset? Thermonuclear exchange reducing our entire world to a burnt out cinder and irradiated graveyard may be how you choose to partay… but… then again… is that not how all of you terrorists roll?

FYI, don’t expect anyone who winds up being a survivor to ever come staggering towards what’s left of DC. No well-wishers will be gathering around you just to stroke your massive ego… to thank you as you boast about your “historic,” “epic,” “tremendous,” “biggest ever,” nuclear holocaust (NOTE: Words in “” are Donny’s uttered faves). After all, it’d be tough to talk while one is puking from both the radiation sickness and the revulsion we feel for you.

The best way you could “Make America Great Again”… the only way you could serve and save our nation… indeed our entire world… would be to veg out in front of the TV and/or go golfing every last damned day, which remains in your term… and not run for reelection!

 

Terrorism

 

Bad Boy Mass Murderers:

If you ever believe the voice in your head is god’s… guess again. If his words are prodding you to kill people, rethink that NOW! Guys, we are taking about a Supreme Being… an entity that created an entire universe. Do you really, Really, REALLY SERIOUSLY believe such an omnipotent force would even need to stoop so low as to outsource the extinction of the human race to insignificant blobs such as you?

In other words, you are no longer needed. Why not… you ask? Well, that’s because we already have two terrorists who are far better equipped to kill off seven plus billion humans. Indeed, you can outsource that task to the professionals… Dotard Donny and Killer Kim.

On a more positive note, believe it or not, there just might be some hope for you rank amateurs. How so… you ask? Well, many of you DO dredge up your god to justify your maiming and murdering of the masses. If you could no longer do so, might you even feel remorse? Think about it.

If nothing else, first, wrap whatever is left of your warped minds around that preceding paragraph and then stand down.

 

Taxes

 

Bad Boy Wealthy Whiners:

To be clear here, I have nothing against prosperous businessmen who live the good life. What I do take exception to is how you ingrates don’t fully appreciate America, a nation where the entire financial system is totally rigged in your favor… where this system lavishes upon you a “too big to fail status”. You, the powerful, are permitted to totally F-up your dirty deals, tank out the global economy and then gleefully laugh your asses off when Uncle Sam… in the role of Robin Hood in reverse… bails you out by shaking down the powerless working poor.

I also take exception to how you’ve accumulated more bucks than you could ever spend in five lifetimes… yet, still refuse to pay even five pennies in taxes.

Wake up call… if, after taxes, you still can enjoy your outrageously opulent lifestyle… just pony up and shut up!

 

Testosterone

 

Bad Boy Politicians, Hollywood Bigwigs and Mass Media Types:

Wake up you vile little boys. Guess what? In reality, healthy interpersonal relationships DO NOT play out like hardcore porn videos… ones that, no doubt, insensitive creeps like you routinely fast forward just to drool over the “money shots”.

Guess what? The male appendage (let’s refer to it as “IT”) is not akin to some sort of key that, on your mere whim, will open every door. “IT” does not act as a magic wand that… upon dropping your drawers and wildly waving it about… will instantly cast a spell that’ll suddenly, somehow, make you irresistible to your targeted, soon-to-be traumatized victims.

Even in the straight, consensual context… from a purely anatomical perspective… “IT” is primarily designed to provide the male pleasure… not the female. In other words Bad Boys… that blows your magic wand theory.

Until you Bad Boys stop objectifying the people you meet… until you first establish genuine friendships that’ll last even if they don’t lead both of you to the bedroom… until you learn to respect humankind… especially womankind… just zip up and shut up!

 

End of Father – Son Chats? Not likely… we are talking about unevolved, little boys trapped in grown men’s bodies… little boys behaving badly… very, Very, VERY BADLY! And, regrettably, that’s a species that’s nowhere even close to becoming endangered.

 

 

Robotics vs. Psychotics (One Quick Limerick #030)

 

The so-called-prez, Kim Jong-Un, strut and snort,

Rattle their nukes and our nerves just for sport,

Will their demeanor, psychotic,

Prompt intervention, robotic?

Will Earth be visited by Klaatu’s Gort?

 

If you’ve never seen the classic, 1951 Sci-Fi cinematic gem, which inspired the above limerick, you can read all about it over at Wikipedia and/or watch the entire film over at YouTube (regrettably, the images are not centered properly but it’s the only free of charge clip I could locate).

You can access more original limericks, poetry and lyrical parodies by clicking onto my poetry category.

 

 

OMG! Nuclear Nookie! NSFW! (One Quick Limerick #026)

 

Two cocky, dickheaded, bad little boys,

Whip out their phallic shaped, nuclear toys,

Their talk dirty “foreplay”,

Rubs each other wrong way,

What’s yet to come? Blast offs’ “OMG!” noise?

 

You can access more original limericks, poetry and lyrical parodies by clicking onto my poetry category.

 

 

Threats to Nuke Guam OFF the Map Puts it ON the Map?

 

Check out this phone chat between the un-american, so-called prez (#45) and his spooky kindred spirit, Guam Governor Eddie Calvo.

Admittedly, the schoolboy giggle-fest vid… below… even clocking out at a paltry 3:18… is still a YUGE [sic] waste of time. Moreover, who’d even want to watch as both of these jerks verbally “jerk off” each other? But not to worry, you can still scroll down to quickly read a summarizing transcript…

“Eddie, I have to tell you, you’ve become extremely famous. All over the world, they’re talking about Guam, and they’re talking about you, and I think you’re going to get tourism. I can say this, your tourism, you’re going to go up like tenfold with the expenditure of no money, so I congratulate you.”

My reaction…

OMG!!!! Does #45 actually envision everyone eagerly packing their bags and booking flights / Carnival Cruises™? Everyone dying to become sitting ducks, dead center, at a potential nuclear ground zero?

And were North Korea’s Kim Jong-Un to ever launch an attack, does Amerika’s so-called prez fantasize about tourists mindlessly snapping smiley-faced selfies with billowing mushroom clouds as their backdrop? Everyone partying till they puke? Well… if binge boozing wouldn’t be enough to induce “survivors'” vomiting, the radiation sickness certainly would.

True, I cannot speak for everyone, but, with a thermonuclear exchange just one Twitter stormer’s antagonizing Tweet away… so long as we have two enraged, flabby, flaccid hotheaded world “leaders” with their grubby little hands poised over “The Button”… I certainly would NOT be putting Guam at the top of my list of trendy, all the rage hotspots to be visiting.

And, were I someone who called Guam “home sweet home”, any travel plans I’d be making, MOST ASSUREDLY, would be to join the let’s-get-the-F-out-of-here, we-all-had-better-run-for-our lives exodus.

Not since post 9/11 George W. Bush had recommended Americans “Get down to Disney World in Florida. Take your families and enjoy life, the way we want it to be enjoyed” have I ever heard such a greed driven, out of touch with reality, insensitive and blasé attitude.

Of course, the present-day, so-called prez’s state of mindlessness is far worse because the more tourists he encourages to visit Guam, the higher a nuclear war’s death toll would be.

One has to wonder… while the tensions between North Korea and Amerika remain unresolved… will #45 be stupid enough to accept Calvo’s invitation to visit Guam?

 

Grate… Not Great (One Quick Limerick #019)

 

 

Grump bullies non-WASPs / non-straights, spews his hate,

Deems rule of law / liberty second-rate,

In big biz world, he’s a glutton,

He’ll melt down, push “The Button”,

That irritant makes america grate.

 

 

You can access more original limericks, poetry and lyrical parodies by clicking onto my poetry category.