Tag: Donald Trump

Painting Roses

Posted on by Richard Daybell

A large rose tree stood just inside the entrance to the Queen’s courtyard. The roses growing on it were black and quite beautiful, but there were three gardeners at it, one busily painting the roses white, the other two painting each other. Venturing nearer, Alice saw that the gardeners were playing cards — a seven of spades, a five of spades and a two whose spades had been painted white. When they saw Alice, they all bowed low.”Can you tell me why you’re painting each other and those beautiful black roses?” Alice inquired.

Seven spoke: “Why the fact is, you see, Miss, this here ought to have been a white rose tree, and a black one got put in by mistake. If the Queen was to find out, we should all have our heads cut off.”

“Why ever for?”

“The Queen doesn’t like black. He wants Donaldland to be all white. That’s why we’re painting our own black spots as well. Black cards don’t matter.”

“Well that’s just preposterous.”

At this moment, Five, who had been anxiously watching across the courtyard, called out: “The Queen! The Queen!”

At once, the three gardeners threw themselves flat upon their faces. There was a sound of many footsteps, and Alice turned, eager to see the Queen. First came ten soldiers shaped like the gardeners but bearing red hearts. They were followed by ten courtiers ornamented by diamonds and ten children jumping about merrily. Princes prancing, drummers drumming, lords leaping. And at the end of this grand procession, the Queen, the orange thicket spilling out from under his crown with an unearthly glow.

When the procession reached Alice, they all stopped and looked at her, and the Queen demanded: “Who is this?”

“My name is Alice, if it pleases your majesty.”

“And who are these three groveling on the ground?

“Five, Seven and Two,” they answered in unison. “We’ve –” The Queen spotted the partially painted rose tree and screamed: “Off with their heads!” She then turned to Alice and cooed: “Come join us in a game of golf, Alice if it pleases me.

Tomorrow, same time, same place — a game of golf.

Stipulations and Legal Briefs

Posted on by Richard Daybell

“Is this the Queen’s court?” Alice asked the two funny-looking men blocking the big iron gate.

“Who wants to know?” they chimed together.

“I’d like to join the Queen for some golf,” answered Alice.

“She’d like to join the Queen,” they taunted, looking at each other. “Do you have a nondisclosure agreement?”

“I’m afraid I don’t, but I’m not the sort of person to disclose things. Are you the Queen’s guards?”

“Guards?” They looked at each other and laughed. “Do we look like guards? We are the Queen’s personal lawyers — Tweeedledum and Tweedledumber, attorneys-at-law. Here, sign these.” They each pushed a pile of papers at Alice.

“What are these?”

“Sworn statements that the Queen didn’t grab you, wouldn’t grab you, and was miles away when the grabbing occurred.”

“But the Queen probably won’t — “

“Of course he will. The Queen has big hands and — “

“– a big heart. I know, I know.”

“You also stipulate that grabbing isn’t a crime if the Queen grabs,” said Tweedledum.

“It’s not even naughty,” added Tweedledumber.

“And Collusion isn’t a crime if the Queen colludes. Obstruction isn’t a crime if the Queen obstructs. Subtraction isn’t a crime —

“Okay, I stipulate,” said Alice impatiently. “And the Queen isn’t a witch, and doesn’t grab girls and is making Donaldland great again.”

“I think she’s got it,” said the twin lawyers. “And what about the White Knight?”

Alice began to recite: “The White Knight and his nefarious throng of 98 — “

” — 125 — “

” — 125 dastardly democreeps are out to destroy the good Queen.”

“And the Queen is cooperating fully with his witch hunt and is willing to answer any number of questions. As a matter of fact, we have provided a list of answers to the questions the Queen is willing to answer.” Tweedledum handed a piece of paper to Alice.

She read: “Yes. No. Maybe. I couldn’t say. Fourteen. Fake news. Yesterday. Never. Maybe tomorrow. None of your damn business.”

“What more could we possibly do?” said Tweedledum.

“Legal is as legal does,” said Tweedledumber.

“Hand me the briefs, said Tweedledum.

“No,” said Tweedledumber. “It’s my turn to wear the briefs.”

“No, it’s my turn.”

“My turn.”

“My turn.”

“I’ll sue.”

“I’ll sue first.”

“I’ll counter-sue.”

“I’ll counter-counter sue.”

And off they went, arguing and leaving the gate for Alice to enter. Which she did.

Tomorrow, same time, same place — painting roses.

The Cheshire Cat Returns

Posted on by Richard Daybell

“Well, I’ll never go there again,” said Alice, as she picked her way through the woods. “It was the dumbest party I ever was at.”

She let out a little shriek as the Cheshire Cat popped onto a nearby branch. ‘I wish you wouldn’t do that. You give me such a fright.”

“Halloween is just around the corner,” said the Cat, his grin widening and looking just a little bit evil. “It’s a right proper time to frighten people.” With that, he suddenly disappeared, the reappeared on the other side of the path. “Boo.”

Alice laughed. “You don’t frighten me so much anymore.”

“That makes me sad.”

“Perhaps if you wore a really scary mask.”

“Oh no,” said the Cat. “We don’t wear masks in Donaldland. The Queen doesn’t like masks. Says they make someone look like a Biden.”

“What’s a Biden?’

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, the Queen doesn’t like it. Speaking of the Queen –“

“I know, he has big hands and he cheats at golf. Just where would I find the Queen’s Court?”

“Straight ahead. Actually, there are several courts. There’s the Tennis Court, the Basketball Court, and the Supreme Court. At the Tennis Court, the Queen’s subjects serve.”

“What do they serve?”

“Why the Queen of course. At the Basketball Court, everyone runs about madly, stealing chickens and turkeys and partridges. When they’ve collected five fowls, they get to sit down. The Supreme Court is where things are decided; it’s divided into three wings. There’s the liberal wing, the conservative wing, and the sexual predator wing and they all make decisions. But the Queen tells them what their decisions are.”

“It sounds like a Kangaroo Court,” scoffed Alice.

“Kangaroo Court, that’s rich. I like that.” The Cat’s grin widened. “Perhaps I’ll see you there. Ta ta.” And with that the Cheshire Cat disappeared bit by bit until only it’s grin remained.

“I’ve seen a cat without a grin before,” said Alice, “but I’ve never seen a grin without a cat.”

Tomorrow, same time, same place — stipulations and legal briefs.

Tea Party II

Posted on by Richard Daybell

“Tax and spend,” the March Hare repeated for emphasis. “We should be tightening our belts, abstaining, making ends meet, pinching pennies.”

“Wielding the budget ax,” added the Hatter.

Here the Dormouse shook itself, and began singing in its sleep, “Twinkle, twinkle, budget ax. How I wonder what it whacks.”

“Entitlements,” said the Hatter.

“Public radio,” said the March Hare.

“Planned Parenthood,” said the Hatter.

“The EPA,” said the March Hare.

“Why do you want to whack these things?” asked Alice, confused.

“Because they promote gay rights, diversity, and health care,”said the Hatter.

“But what’s wrong with those things?”

“They cost far too much,” said the Hatter. “Especially health care. The Queen has a better way. His health plan is so much better, and it won’t cost anything.”

“How could that be?” asked Alice.

“Simple, said the Hatter. “You don’t get sick.”

“Illegal immigrants are going to bankrupt our grandchildren,” added the March Hare.

“That’s silly,” said Alice.

“What do you know?” retorted the March Hare. “You weren’t even born. You don’t have a birth certificate.”

“But people don’t carry their birth certificates around with them,” answered Alice.

“Then where’s your Constitution?” the Hatter demanded.

“I don’t carry that around either.”

“Then how do you know original intent?”

“I don’t think – ”

“Then you shouldn’t talk.”

This piece of rudeness was more than Alice could bear. She got up in great disgust and walked off. The others took no notice, but went back to their discussion of how big the next tax cut should be.

Tomorrow, same time, same place –the Cheshire Cat reappears.

A Tea Party

Posted on by Richard Daybell

As it turned out, it didn’t matter which path she took because she came to a clearing with a large table, and both the Hatter and the Hare were crowded into one corner. A Dormouse sat on the table between them fast asleep, and they were using it as a cushion, resting their elbows on it.. “No room,” they cried out as Alice approached.

“There’s plenty of room,” said Alice indignantly, sitting down at one end of the table.

“Did you bring your birth certificate?” the March Hare asked.

“Of course not,” said Alice.

“Then how do we know you were born?”

“Because I’m here,” answered Alice.

“I’m not convinced,” said the March Hare. “Have some wine.”

Alice looked all around the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. “I don’t see any wine,” she remarked.

“There isn’t any,” said the March Hare. “And there’s no free lunch. No handouts. Fend for yourself. Take care of number one.”

“Your budget wants cutting,” said the Hatter. This was his first speech. “Why is welfare like a writing desk?”

“Oh good, riddles,” said Alice. “I think I can guess that.”

“Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer?” said the March Hare.

“Yes.”

“Then you should say what you mean.”

“I do,” said Alice. “At least I mean what I say. It’s the same thing, you know.”

“Not the same at all,” said the Hatter. “you might as well say ‘I grab who I please’ is the same as ‘I please who I grab.'”

“That sounds like the Queen,” said Alice. “I give up. Why is welfare like a writing desk?“

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” said the Hatter.

Alice sighed. “I think you might better spend your time than wasting it asking riddles that have no answers.”

“Spend, spend,” said the Hatter. “Tax and spend. That’s all you liberals do.”

Tomorrow, same time, same place — the party continues.

A Grinning Cat

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Alice stood at a crossroads, wondering which way she ought to go. As she pondered, she spotted a large Cat on the branch of a tree a few feet away, grinning at her. She had never known a Cat to grin before and didn’t even know a Cat could grin. It looked rather good-natured, but it had very long claws and a great many teeth so Alice thought it wise to treat the Cat with respect.

“What sort of cat are you?” Alice asked. “You must be happy, smiling like that.”

“I’m a Cheshire, “answered the Cat. “And I always smile.”

“Cheshire? Wouldn’t that make you a cheese?”

“Have you ever seen a cheese smile?”

“I guess not. Well Mr. Cheshire Cat, sir, I wonder if you might tell me which way to go?”

“That depends a great deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.

“I don’t much care where — “

“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go.”

” — so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added.

“You’re bound to do that, if you walk long enough.”

That seemed logical enough to Alice, so she continued: “What sort of people live around here?”

“In that direction lives a Hatter,” the Cat said, pointing. “And in that direction lives a March Hare. Visit either; they’re both mad.”

“Oh dear, I don’t want to go among mad people.”

“You can’t help that. We’re all mad in Donaldland. I’m mad, you’re mad.”

“What makes you think I’m mad?”

“You must be,” said the Cat. “Or you wouldn’t have come here.”

“I got here quite by accident,” said Alice. “What

Speaking of which, are you going to play golf with the Queen today?”

“I should like to,” said Alice. “But I haven’t been invited.”

“Oh you needn’t be invited. All that’s required is signing a nondisclosure agreement.”

“What would I not be disclosing?”

“Oh I can’t disclose that.”

“Just remember,” the Cat said, his grin wider than ever, “The Queen has big hands, and he cheats.”

And with that the Cat vanished.

The Caterpillars Press Briefing

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Knowing she shouldn’t go beyond the wall, Alice turned back and retraced her steps, but of course nothing was the same as it had been before. This time the path led to a large mushroom. The mushroom was taller than Alice but, by stretching herself up on tiptoe, she was able to peep over the edge of it. There her eyes met those of a large blue caterpillar, who was sitting on the top, showing not the slightest interest in her or anything else.

“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar. This was not a particularly encouraging beginning to a conversation.

“My name is Alice. At least I think I’m Alice. It’s been a rather confusing day.”

“Can’t you see you’re interrupting a very important press briefing?”

“But there’s no one here but you and me.”

“Where are your credentials?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any credentials,” Alice replied politely. “But I do have a couple of questions.”

“No credentials, no questions. Next.”

Alice watched as the Caterpillar looked around as if waiting for someone to say something. She was about to speak up herself when the Caterpillar bellowed: “How many times do I have to answer the same question? You might get some new answers, if you’d ask some new questions. Next! The Queen has addressed this many times, and I have no intention of addressing something the Queen has already addressed, and you have his address so go there or somewhere else. Next!”

Alice watched dumbfounded as the Caterpillar once again looked around. When the Caterpillar looked in her direction, Alice raised her hand. The Caterpillar stared at her angrily and said: “I answered that question on Monday. This is Wednesday and I’m not going to answer again on a Wednesday. Come back next Monday. Next!

Alice raised her hand again, but the Caterpillar ignored her and continued: “As the Queen has said many times, there are the Queen’s facts and fake facts. If you could tell the difference, you wouldn’t be wasting my time with fake questions, and we could just get on with making Donaldland white — I mean great again.

At that moment, the White Rabbit came running up, panting. “Am I late?”

The Caterpillar glared at the White Rabbit and said: “The Queen has no plans to fire the White Rabbit despite his despicable dereliction of duty. The Queen remains very sort of confident in him.”

Incoming tweet: “White Rabbit is OUT!! Not very smart.! Not loyal! Tiny hands, big ears! SAD!!! Off with his head!!!!”

Of Cabbages and Queens

Posted on by Richard Daybell

Alice walked along, her mind filled with images of the poor White Rabbit’s head, the Queen’s big hands, and the many curious things she had encountered. Then, just ahead, she spotted yet another curious pair — a Walrus and a Carpenter. She could tell the Carpenter was a carpenter by the nails sticking out of his mouth, the hammer in his hand and the word ‘carpenter’ on his hat. She could tell his companion was a Walrus because it had flippers and a big tuft of whiskers. The two of them were working on a tall wooden structure.

She watched them for a few minutes, then asked: “What are you building?”

“A wall,” said the Carpenter.

The Walrus elaborated: “A great big beautiful wall.”

“Whatever for?” Alice asked.

“To keep out rapists and murderers,” said the Carpenter.

“You don’t seem to have gotten very far with it,” Alice said, sitting down on a rock.

“Donaldland wasn’t built in a day, you know,” said the Walrus.

“I think it’s Rome that wasn’t built in a day,” Alice suggested.

“That’s why we’re building the wall,” snapped the Carpenter. “To keep out the Romans and rapists and murderers from shithole countries.”

“That’s not a very nice word,” said Alice.

“Which word?”

The second one from the — you know which word I mean. The icky one.”

“I’m afraid she’s right,” said the Walrus. “Shithole countries has been walked back.”

“Walked back?”

“The Queen has a very high IQ,” the Walrus continued. “And big hands and a big — “

“Heart,” Alice parroted.

“But the Queen sometimes uses the wrong words. And so we walk them back to where he never said them.”

“Isn’t that revisionist?” Alice suggested.

“That’s a very big word for a very little girl,” said the Carpenter.

“Well, I’m usually a lot bigger. I’m just having a small day.”

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “to talk of other things: of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and queens.”

“Wouldn’t king make a better rhyme,” Alice asked.

“The Queen doesn’t like that word; it reminds him of his predecessor, and that annoys him.”

“Why?”

“In the second place, he was born in one of those places we walked back,” said the Walrus.

“In the last place, he had funny ears and a funny name,” said the Carpenter.

“What about first place?” asked Alice.

“If he were a horse, he’d be a horse of a different color,” the Walrus and Carpenter chimed together. “Pardon us, but we must get back to our wall or the Queen will have our heads.”

Incoming tweet: “A beautiful wall. Tall wall from C to shining C. I want my wall NOW! NOW!! NOW!!! Undesirables pouring in. Rapists, murderers. Murderers, rapists. BILD WALL!”

Tomorrow same time, same place — a caterpillar has a press conference.

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.

White Knight’s Witch Hunt

Posted on by Richard Daybell

After Alice had walked for a little while, she heard the pattering of footsteps in the distance and wondered what sort of strange person or animal she might meet this time. It was the White Rabbit, coming toward her, looking about anxiously.

“Oh my dear paws,” the White Rabbit muttered. “Oh my fur and whiskers! The Queen will have me executed, as sure as foreigners are foreigners. Where can I have dropped my gloves?”

The White Rabbit finally noticed Alice and said: “Why are you just standing there? Help me find my gloves. I can’t go to the press briefing without my gloves.”

Alice looked around for a pair of gloves as the White Rabbit continued wailing: “First I recuse myself, now this. The Queen will have my head for sure.”

“I don’t think I understand what exactly recusing oneself is.”

“Of course, you don’t. You’re a girl.”

Alice was getting quite tired of such talk and she replied: “I’ll have you know I’m smarter than any . . . any . . . dumb bunny.”

“Recusing oneself,” the White Rabbit continued, ignoring her outburst, “is very much like excusing oneself. Recuse, excuse. For instance you would say ‘excuse me’ when leaving the room. But if you said ‘recuse me,’ you would stay in the room and just pretend you weren’t there. See?”

“I suppose.”

“I’m pretending that I’m not paying any attention to the White Knight’s terrible, terrible Witch Hunt because of a conflict of interest. I suppose you know what that is?”

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t.”

“A conflict of interest is when I’m very interested in what’s going on in the room, but I’m pretending that I’m not.”

“Why is the White Knight hunting for a witch?”

“The White Knight and his mob of 23 sinister democreeps are looking for Collusion, Delusion, Obstruction, Distraction, and Multiplication.”

“I don’t know about all those other things, but your gloves are under that little bush over there. “

The White Rabbit scooped up his gloves and ran off without even a thank you or goodby.

Incoming tweet: “White Knight and HORDE of 35 PERNICIOUS democreeps. Worst witch hunt in history. Let me say this about that: I am not a witch!”

Tomorrow, same time, same place — a walrus and a carpenter