Tag: Donald Trump

October 26, 1697: Fake News, Libel and All That Jazz

Posted on by Richard Daybell

I win an election easily, a great “movement” is verified, and crooked opponents try to belittle our victory with FAKE NEWS. A sorry state! — Donald J. Trump

John Peter Zenger, born on October 26, 1697, immigrated to New York in 1710 where he was apprenticed to William Bradford, the first printer in New York. As an adult, he established his own printing business, printing a publication known as the New York Weekly Journal. The Journal did its best to be a thorn in the side to Royal Governor William Cosby (not the comedian).

The Journal chronicled the corrupt exploits of the governor such as rigging elections and colluding with the French. In addition to reporting his crimes, the Journal took delight in frequently calling him an idiot. Eventually Zenger was hauled off to jail and charged with libel, which was defined at the time as saying anything nasty about the government whether true or not.

A trial was held, and surprise, all the jurors were on Cosby’s payroll. As the trial progressed, Zenger’s wife continued to print the Journal, exposing the unfairness of the process. As a result, the judge was forced to replace the Cosby jurors with an actual jury of Zenger’s peers.

The judge ordered the jury to convict Zenger if they believed he printed the stories (he had admitted to doing so). But the jury returned in less than ten minutes with a verdict of not guilty, establishing truth as a defense against the charge of libel and giving rise to the notion of freedom of the press, which would eventually be enshrined in the First Amendment.

Big crowds of enthusiastic supporters lining the road that the FAKE NEWS media refuses to mention. Very dishonest! — Donald J. Trump

OCTOBER 23, 4004 BC: AND ON THE 29TH HE RESTED

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Those who predict the imminent end of the world display a certain amount of chutzpah if not foolhardiness (such as Micheal Stifel, October 19 and William Miller, October 22).  It probably takes even more of those qualities to identify the exact date of the beginning of the world, but didn’t James Ussher (1581-1656) do just that.

As Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of All Ireland, and Vice-Chancellor of Trinity College in Dublin, Ussher was rather highly regarded in his day as both churchman and scholar. He was not your average man on the street (“Tell me sir, when did the world begin?”) making bold proclamations. And evidently he didn’t just pull important dates out of a hat. His declarations were based on an intricate correlation of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean histories and Holy writ, incorporated into an authorized 1701 version of the Bible, or so he explained. And they were accepted, regarded without question as if they were the Bible itself.

Through the aforementioned methods, Ussher established that the first day of creation was Sunday, October 23, 4004 BC. He didn’t give a time. On a roll, Ussher calculated the dates of other biblical events, concluding, for example, that Adam and Eve were driven from Paradise on Monday, November 10 of that same year BC. (It took them less than three weeks to get in trouble with God.) And Noah docked his ark on Mt Ararat on May 5, 2348 BC. That was a Wednesday if you were wondering.

 

Late-breaking news: Dr. John Lightfoot, of Cambridge, an Ussher contemporary, declared in a bold bid for oneupsmanship, that his most profound and exhaustive study of the Scriptures, showed that “heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together, in the same instant, and clouds full of water,” and that “this work took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C., at nine o’clock in the morning.”

 

Okay Lightfoot, Take This

Wretched Richard will jump out onto the proverbial limb and give you a few more dates you might be wondering about.

January 29, 3995 BC, 8 a.m. — God creates children.

March 12, 3906 BC, 5:00 p.m.  — Shouting something about his damn sheep, Cain slays Abel.

September 3, 3522 BC, 6:00 p.m. — God creates Facebook, then decides the world isn’t ready for it.

October 2, 2901 BC, 4:00 p.m.  God, having been in a bad mood all day, turns Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt.

June 7, 2549 BC 11:15 a.m.  God once again in a creative mood creates marijuana.

1:30 p.m. –Later that day, God, thoroughly annoyed with all his creations except his latest, instructs Noah to build an ark because he, God, is going to destroy the world.

August 14, 2371 BC,  5:30 a.m. — Methuselah finally turns his toes up after 969 years on this good earth.

July 7, 1425 BC, 8:30 p.m. — God gives Moses the Ten Commandments.

March 1, 2 AD, 10:15 a.m. — God creates an amusing diversion featuring Christians and lions.

July 2, 1854 AD, 11:45 p.m. — After a few too many martinis, God creates Republicans.

November 9, 2016, 2:45 a.m. — Feeling rather wicked, God makes Donald Trump president.

November 5, 2024, 10 a.m.  — A big grin spreads across God’s face . . .

 

AUGUST 28, 1963: I HAVE A DREAM

Posted on by Richard Daybell

In Washington DC, on  August 28, 1963, Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke to a crowd stretching from the Lincoln Memorial to the Washington Monument.

“Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back King_Jr_Martin_Luther_093.jpgto Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.”

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.’ I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave-owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.”

“When we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!'”

 

Part of that is when they try and demean me unfairly, because we had a massive crowd of people. We had a crowd… I looked over that sea of people, and I said to myself, ‘wow’, and I’ve seen crowds before. Big, big crowds. That was some crowd. — Donald Trump

His Majesty, the Queen

Posted on by Richard Daybell

“I’m sorry you don’t exist,” said Alice, hoping to comfort the Dodo who looked like he might cry at any moment. “But what is a tweetstorm?”

“A tweetstorm is like a shotgun filled with mean words. The Queen uses it to show his great displeasure.”

“His displeasure? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t understand,” said the Dodo. “You’re a girl.”

“I resent that.”

“I imagine so. But some people have to be girls.”

“I mean I resent your suggesting that girls are somehow inferior.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” said the Dodo. “The Queen has decreed it so.”

“Why would she . . . ?

“He.”

“Are you saying the Queen is a he?”

“I’m only saying what is so.”

“Why is he a Queen and not a King?”

“Queens are more statuesque, better looking, smarter and more powerful. That’s what he says. And queenliness is next to godliness, after all.”

“And he, the Queen, doesn’t like girls?”

“Well, he does like to grab them,” said the Dodo.

“That’s awful,” said Alice angrily.

“He does have big hands and a big . . .”

“Heart,” interjected the Auk, speaking for the first time. “We try not to notice. It’s easier that way.”

“He says they like it,” said the Dodo. “And who wouldn’t want to be grabbed by someone as important as the Queen?”

“Me, that’s who,” Alice growled.

This conversation was interrupted by the Emu who held up a smart phone and announced: “Incoming tweet.”

They all gathered around and read: “White Knight and his gang of 13 wicked democreeps are DESTROYING our GRATE country. Dumb White Rabbit recused himself. No loyalty. SAD!!”

And another:  Knight is no white knight.  He’s a black night, black black, black. Black Rabbit too. Lyin’ Dodo, Little Auk, Crooked Emoo, Leakin’ Ostrich, Sleepy Devil. All lowlifes who I don’t know! Off with there HEADS!!”

The animals began to sob and lament the unfairness of their situation, giving Alice the perfect opportunity to slip away and continue her exploration.

Stay tuned.

Previously: 

Going Down,  

Caucus Race

Caucus Race

Posted on by Richard Daybell

As she stepped through the door which was now the perfect size for a person of her size, Alice spotted a sign that read Donaldland, Center of the Universe, brilliantly ruled by our most revered Queen. Everything on this side of the door was the right size. “I think I’m going to like this place,” she predicted..

She set off to explore, passing through lovely meadows and gardens filled with colorful flowers, past dear little ponds. The only things marring the beauty of the place were the many signs saying Make Donaldland Great Again. At one of those ponds, she spotted a queer-looking group of animals marching around it. “Curiouser and curiouser,” she said, although everything was curious today. There was an Auk, an Emu, an Ostrich, a Tasmanian Devil and several other strange animals. And leading the parade was a Dodo. They moved about the pond, each at its own pace, some faster, some slower, some stopping now and then, some bumping into one another, until the Dodo suddenly cried out: “The Caucus-race is over.”

“Who has won?” the others all shouted.

The Dodo thought for a moment then said: “Everyone. We all have won.” The animals all cheered. Alice, who was now standing among them, asked: “What is a Caucus-race?”

The Dodo pressed a finger to its forehead and thought some more. “It’s like a real caucus only it’s not, because we’re not invited to real Caucuses anymore. We used to be GOPs, but we’re outcasts now. We’ve been tweetstormed by the Queen.”

Alice was filled with questions, and she blurted them right out: “What’s a GOP? What’s a tweetstorm? What kind of animal are you?”

“I’m a Dodo.”

“Aren’t Dodos extinct?”

“Might as well be. I guess I’m a Dodo In Name Only. And a GOP in Name Only.”

“You haven’t told me what a GOP is,” Alice complained.

“A Grouchy Old Poop. I was once proud to be one — to wear a campaign button on my lapel, a flag on my butt, and make patriotic noise. But that was then and this is now. I’ve — we’ve all been tossed from the poopdeck, bundled off, shown the exit ramp. Unfriended. Tweetstormed.” The Queen doesn’t know us and therefore we don’t exist.”

Stay tuned, same time same place — a royal revelation

Going Down

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Alice was growing sleepy, sitting next to her sister who was reading a book. “What’s the use of a book if it can’t get you online?” she muttered to herself. Just as she was beginning to drift off, a large White Rabbit ran by. This was rather remarkable in and of itself but even more so as the Rabbit pulled a watch out of its waist-coat pocket and said “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late. The Queen will have my head for sure.”

Now wide awake with curiosity, Alice jumped up and chased after the Rabbit, just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit hole. Alice went right down the hole herself, never giving it a thought, and found herself falling. The hole was very deep and she was falling very slowly, for she had time to look around. The sides of the hole had become walls, covered with pictures. Mostly they were grumpy looking old men, but one of them looked like a Queen. She wore a royal gown, the kind you see on a playing card, and a royal crown nestled in a strange outcropping of very orange hair. The Queen had big hands and — Alice didn’t finish the thought for she landed with a thud on the floor of an ornate room.

The room had no windows and just one tiny door barely big enough for a mouse. It was certainly too tiny for Alice to go through it. The only furniture in the room was a single table. On the top of the table was a small bottle with a note attached that read: Drink me, if you want to become small enough to go through the door. She took a sip from the bottle and waited. Nothing happened. She finished it off. Still nothing. Then she saw more writing on the back of the note: I lied. The only way to get small is to think small. It’s like pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps, except there are no boots or straps and it’s down rather than up.

Alice sat down in front of the little door and recited “I am small. I am small.” As she continued to repeat these words, she saw that the little door was growing larger. Or was she getting smaller? When the door looked like a normal-sized door she said loudly: “I really am small.” She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Stay tuned, same time, same place — a caucus-race

OCTOBER 23, 4004 BC: AND ON THE 29TH HE RESTED

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Those who predict the imminent end of the world display a certain amount of chutzpah if not foolhardiness (see William Miller, October 22).  It probably takes even more of those qualities to identify the exact date of the beginning of the world, but didn’t James Ussher (1581-1656) do just that.

As Archbishop of Armagh, Primate of All Ireland, and Vice-Chancellor of Trinity College in Dublin, Ussher was rather highly regarded in his day as both churchman and scholar. He was not your average man on the street (“Tell me sir, when did the world begin?”) making bold proclamations. And evidently he didn’t just pull important dates out of a hat. His declarations were based on an intricate correlation of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean histories and Holy writ, incorporated into an authorized 1701 version of the Bible, or so he explained. And they were accepted, regarded without question as if they were the Bible itself.

Through the aforementioned methods, Ussher established that the first day of creation was Sunday, October 23, 4004 BC. He didn’t give a time. On a roll, Ussher calculated the dates of other biblical events, concluding, for example, that Adam and Eve were driven from Paradise on Monday, November 10 of that same year BC. (It took them less than three weeks to get in trouble with God.) And Noah docked his ark on Mt Ararat on May 5, 2348 BC. That was a Wednesday if you were wondering.

Late-breaking news: Dr. John Lightfoot, of Cambridge, an Ussher contemporary, declared in a bold bid for oneupsmanship, that his most profound and exhaustive study of the Scriptures, showed that “heaven and earth, centre and circumference, were created all together, in the same instant, and clouds full of water,” and that “this work took place and man was created by the Trinity on October 23, 4004 B.C., at nine o’clock in the morning.”

Okay Lightfoot, Take This

Wretched Richard will jump out onto the proverbial limb and give you a few more dates you might be wondering about.

January 29, 3995 BC, 8 a.m. — God creates children.

March 12, 3906 BC, 5:00 p.m.  — Shouting something about his damn sheep, Cain slays Abel.

September 3, 3522 BC, 6:00 p.m. — God creates Facebook, then decides the world isn’t ready for it.

October 2, 2901 BC, 4:00 p.m.  God, having been in a bad mood all day, turns Lot’s wife into a pillar of salt.

June 7, 2549 BC 11:15 a.m.  God once again in a creative mood creates marijuana.

1:30 p.m. –Later that day, God, thoroughly annoyed with all his creations (except the marijuana), instructs Noah to build an ark because he, God, is going to destroy the world.

August 14, 2371 BC,  5:30 a.m. — Methuselah finally turns his toes up after 969 years on this good earth.

July 7, 1425 BC, 8:30 p.m. — God gives Moses the Ten Commandments.

March 1, 2 AD, 10:15 a.m. — God creates an amusing diversion featuring Christians and lions.

July 2, 1854 AD, 11:45 p.m. — After a few too many martinis, God creates Republicans.

November 9, 2016, 2:45 a.m. — Feeling rather wicked, God makes Donald Trump president.

December 25, 2019, 10 a.m.  –Filled with Christmas spirit, God removes Donald Trump from office and makes Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer president. Trump refuses to leave.

January 1, 2020, Noon — God decides to smite Donald Trump, but will patiently wait for just the right moment.

The Cloak of Invincibility

Posted on by Richard Daybell

The Queen returned a few minutes later, strutting toward them. Alice gasped. She couldn’t believe her eyes. The Queen wore an imperial grin but nothing else. He was totally naked. Alice looked up at the sky, down at the ground beneath her feet, anywhere to avoid looking at the unpleasant corpulence that stood before her.

“I am now invincible,” said the Queen. “There is nothing more to worry about.”

“But he’s not wearing anything,” Alice whispered to the White Rabbit.

“And do you want to be the one to tell him?” answered the Rabbit.

“Step closer to me, Alice if it pleases me,” said the Queen.

“I really couldn’t, your regalness,” Alice replied.

“But you must,” the Queen insisted.

“I shouldn’t, your sovereigness,” said Alice.

“I command you!”

“I shan’t, your nakedness.”

Leaves stop rustling, birds stopped chirping. A painful silence gripped the coutyard. Breaths were held. The only movement was Alice’s trembling. The Queen looked at his extremities — his feet, his legs, his hands, his arms. He looked at his torso. He looked straight at Alice It was a malevolent look. “Whatever are you talking about? Now step closer or I shall have your head.”

Alice didn’t budge. The Queen’s face got redder and redder. He fumed. But wait –the Queen seemed to be getting smaller. He was getting smaller! So was the White Rabbit and all the others.

The Cheshire Cat’s head appeared and now hovered above them. The Walrus waddled in, followed by the carpenter. They too were smaller. When Alice stood face to face with the Cheshire Cat, she realized it was she who was growing larger.

“Enough, enough,” said the Walrus. “This negativity gets us nowhere.”

“What do you mean?” asked the now full-sized Alice.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “to talk of noble things. Like election day and making choices, and voting, you ding-a-lings.”

“The sad truth is,” said the Cheshire Cat, “an estimated 40 percent of us won’t vote at all.”

“That’s terrible,” said Alice.  “We should be ashamed.”

“Off with our heads,” added the Queen.

The Great Debate

Posted on by Richard Daybell

“It’s getting too cold for golf,” said the Queen.

“Actually it’s really quite hot,” said Alice.

“Are you disagreeing with me?” the Queen snarled.

“Never, your highness. It’s just that the planet is growing warmer, after all.”

“The planet is most certainly not growing warmer,” said the Queen. “It’s growing colder.”

“How can you say that?”

“It’s as plain as the nose on your face.” said the Queen. At 9 o’clock this morning it was 85 degrees. At ten o’clock, it was 83 degrees. If this alarming trend continues, it will be a hundred below zero by Tuesday.”

“But –“

“Are you challenging me to a debate?”

“I wasn’t –“

“Debate!” the Queen shouted.

“Debate,” murmured the lords and princes and courtiers.

“How I love a debate,” the Queen gushed. “You may go first.”

“Well you see –“

“I don’t see,” the Queen shouted.

“The –“

“Hoax!”

“If you –“

“Witch hunt!”

“I’m –“

“Blah, blah, blah, blah.”

“But –“

“Stop interrupting me. Demerits for rudeness.”

“I’m just trying to make a point,” Alice shouted.

“Points are not allowed. Demerit.”

“Please –“

“There you go, interrupting again. Debate over. You lose.”

“Brava, your majesty,” congratulated the lords and princes and courtiers.

As the Queen basked in the adulation, a familiar figure entered the scene. The White Rabbit came running up, panting. The Queen looked at him and snapped: “Why do you still have a head?”

“I’m bearing news. There’s a germ going around. Perhaps we should be wearing our masks.”

“Not necessary. I’ll simply slip into my cloak of invincibility, and everything will be fine.”

The Queen turned, made a passing attempt to grab Alice who deftly dodged it, and exited stage left.

Tomorrow, same time, same place — the Queen’s cloak of invincibility.

The Queen’s Golf Course

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Alice had never seen such a strange golf course in her life. It was no bigger than a tennis court and had only one hole. The golf balls were live hedgehogs rolled up tightly, and the clubs were live flamingoes.

Alice found it quite difficult to manage her flamingo. She succeeded in getting its body tucked under her arm, with its legs up, its neck straightened, and its head next to the ball., but as she was about to hit the ball, the flamingo would twist itself around and look right in her face causing her to burst out laughing. When she got its head down again, the hedgehog would unroll itself and walk away.

The players all played at once, hitting hedgehogs in various directions, quarreling the whole time. The Queen himself was worked up into an awful state, shouting “off with his head!” or “off with her head!” and Alice began to worry about her own head. As she contemplated sneaking away, she noticed a curious appearance in the air. I t slowly became a grin and she new at once who it was.

“How are you getting on?” said the Cat.

“They don’t play fairly, they quarrel and they don’t follow any rules at all.”

“How do you like the Queen?”

“Not at all,” said Alice. “He’s extremely –” Just then she noticed that the Queen was close behind her, a big hand reaching out to touch her. She jumped away and continued ” — likely to win. It’s hardly worth finishing the game.”

“The others have accused you of cheating,” said the Queen.

“I didn’t cheat. I was just having difficulties with my flamingo.”

“This is a very serious offense.”

“I’m innocent.”

“Guilty as charged.” The Queen was almost purring now. He leaned closer and said: “Don’t worry. I find you guilty. I pardon you. We quid pro quo.”

Tomorrow, same time, same place — a great debate.