Welcome to Trumpland USA

If there were a chance it would be published, I would send this letter to the New York Times, the Christian Science Monitor, the WaPo, and every other major paper. But it would not be published.

To the Editor,

I am looking at the absolute state of this country, and I want to know when the hell people are going to wake up to what that orange fool is doing in the White House. This lunatic is literally building a bunker inside the fucking ballroom, and the spineless bastards around him are just letting it happen. 

8647 For Fuck's Sake!

 

The man:

• Wants to be on a US stamp.
• Wants to replace FDR on the dime.
• Wants a Triumphal Arch overlooking Arlington Cemetery.
• Wants a Nobel Peace Prize
• Wants the reflecting pool to be country club pool blue 
• Wants a fucking ballroom
• Wants to suck Putin's cock.
• Has added himself to our passports
• Is on a 24K plated commemrative coin that the US mint sells for approx$50.
• Has his cabinet praise him one person at a time before meetings
• Persecutes (and prosecutes) his political enemies
• The Kennedy Center. 'Nuff said.
• Considers himself on a par with Jesus H Crucified Christ
• He illegally invaded a sovereign nation and kidnapped its president
• Wants to pave Palestine and turn it into a fucking casino or summat

He spends most of his time bitching and griping about these non-issues, like a toddler throwing a tantrum to get what it wants. Meanwhile, there's a war, there's a big blockade, there's no affordable gas, soon there will be no gas at all, and then the food and other commodity shortages start. 

He's more interested in his orange face being on a stamp than in pulling our troops out of Iran or any real issue on this planet and in this country.

He needs to go.

8647 - 25th Amendment NOW! Congress used to have balls. Now it's a bunch of fucking sycophants groveling at his feet and licking his smegma laden uncircumcised schlong and not doing its job. Grow a new set, assholes. 

Come and get me for saying 8647. Here's a fucking history lesson for you:

"The term "86" originated in the 1920s-1930s as American restaurant and soda jerk slang for running out of an item, likely evolving as rhyming slang for "nix". It expanded to mean kicking out customers or refusing service, with popular, though unverified, theories linking it to [Chumley’s Speakeasy] at 86 Bedford St. or Prohibition-era police tactics. [1, 2, 3, 4, 5]

Most Likely Origins:

• Soda Jerk/Diner Code: In the 1930s, staff used numerical codes (e.g., 81 was water). "86" meant an item was sold out.
• Rhyming Slang: It is often considered a direct, witty rhyme for "nix" (to cancel or reject). [1, 2, 3]

Common Origin Myths & Theories:

• Chumley’s Speakeasy: Located at 86 Bedford St. in New York, police would allegedly tell the bartender to "86" patrons out the back door before a raid.
• Prohibition Era: Bartenders would serve a rowdy customer 86-proof liquor to get them drunk faster so they would leave.
• Supplies/Space: Early diners only held 85 items, or in soup kitchens, the 86th person got nothing.
• Military Code: Reference to the F-86 fighter jet shooting down an enemy, or Article 86 (AWOL) of the Uniform Code of Military Justice. [1, 2]

Today, it is commonly used in hospitality to mean an item is gone, or that a customer is no longer allowed on the premises. [1]" (History.Com and Wikipedia)

NOWHERE does it mention it as a term for icing somebody. Nowhere.

When somebody is egomaniacal and utterly fucking deranged, he sues everybody who so much as looks at him strangely. He orders his subordinates to investigate and prosecute his enemies as a revenge tactic for having the sheer effontery to stand against him.And when somebody is delusional and incredibly stupid, he tilts at windmills and sits around on his ass.

86 fucking 47. The world cannot wait. World War 3 is starting, because of his insane policies. There is unrest here at home, and a growing global disgust for the US due to Donald Trump's hubris. 

He has got to be stopped by any LEGAL means necessary. While he's #2 on my Dead Pool List, I do not advocate violence against anybody.25th Amendment, Impeachment and Conviction, something else non-violent and legal, but it's got to stop. It's really got to stop. 

I cannot believe that there are people in this country, a LOT of people, who think he's the best thing that ever happened to the US and the world. Who believe every word out of his mouth. Who consider all liberals to be traitors to the US. Who cannot see that this man embodies the biblical description of the Antichrist they believe in.  That he is craven, childish, and creepy. He is a danger to the entire planet and he has control of "the football".

Get me the fuck out of here and 8647. Last week.

Prophets, Profits, and Predatory Pyramids

TL;DR: MLMs are a predatory plague that feast on women's insecurities and social lives. Utah is the giant, culty heart of this scam, where missionary tactics are repurposed to sell overpriced essential oils and ugly leggings.

More Inside...

Auntie Elfi's Fables: The Schoolyard Bully

As the days stretched on, the bright colors of the playground seemed to fade under the shadow of the big kids’ rules. They didn’t just play on the slide; they decided how fast you were allowed to go down, and you had to pay them a polished pebble for the privilege. They set up "sandbox shifts," where anyone from the far side of the woods could only dig for a minute at a time. The seesaw was declared "out of order" indefinitely, though everyone saw the big kids using it as a private bench to plot their next move.

Yet, a strange thing happened. The "lousy babies," as the big kids called them, didn't break. In fact, the harder the bullies pushed, the tighter the others held together. They didn't shout back; they fought with a quiet, polite resistance that drove the big kids toward madness.

When they were told they couldn't use the swings, they simply stood in a long, calm line, waiting with patient smiles that suggested they had all the time in the world. When the sandbox whistle blew, they handed over their shovels with a kindness that felt like a challenge. They weren't looking for a fight; they just wanted to be treated decently. That simple, immovable demand made them impossible to defeat. 

Eventually, the big kids began to wear themselves out with their own anger. They gritted their teeth every day, forced to allow those "lousy babies" to move about the playground without fear. It burned them to see the smaller kids sharing the equipment fairly, ignoring the big kids’ self-appointed authority as if it were nothing more than a passing breeze. And fairly meant that they gave the big kids fair turns at games and swings, because the other kids were Decent human beings who did not commit the sin of "Treating people like things."

The bullies watched from the sidelines, fuming because there was absolutely nothing they could do about it. The more they tried to grab the ball and go home, the more they realized the other kids had learned to play their own games without needing that ball at all. The playground didn't belong to the loudest anymore; it belonged to everyone.

Okay, you've read it. Now swap the words Republican and school yard bully/ies. And Other/Little kids and Liberals/Democrats. Now reread it.

Kinda makes ya think, huh?

Godforsaken Bastards and Why They Suck Ass

The Opening: A Season in the Shade

We have entered the era of the Godforsaken Bastard. It is a time defined not by leadership, but by the violent curation of chaos. A period where the traditional guardrails of decency haven't just been ignored, they’ve been sold for scrap. This is the portrait of a collective that thrives on the friction of a world in collapse, a rogue’s gallery of the high-born and the low-lived who have mistaken their cruelty for courage and their greed for a mandate. They move through our culture like a virus in a designer suit, insulated by billions and emboldened by a mob that has been taught to love the sound of breaking glass. This zine is the shadow to the saints; it is a jagged, unwashed look at the architects of our current misery, the enforcers of our fear, and the loud-mouthed parasites who provide the soundtrack to the demolition of the common good. Welcome to the wreckage.

The Unwilling Statistic - OR - Fuck That!

I’ve got a list of diagnoses a mile long, including diabetes, afib, and sleep apnea; however, it’s the COPD (which is just a pretty way of saying emphysema) that’s trying to put a timestamp on my life. They say three to five years. That’s the math. The worst part of that math is knowing I wrote the equation myself. Forty-five years of heavy smoking has caught up to me, and now my lungs are paying the debt I racked up. I have nobody to blame but the person in the mirror.

But here’s the thing: I’m not willing to die this young. I’m not done yet. Fuck that!

No, Jesse Welles is NOT pro-Charlie fucking Kirk

Yes, Jesse Welles wrote a song about the killing of Charlie Kirk. NO, it was NOT a pro-gung ho-Charlie is a martyr song.

It was a song about gun violence and freedom of speech...

Tolkein's Vogon Poetry

I've been trying to read Fellowship of the Ring again.

I read the series 35 years ago, and it was like slogging through Boston after the great molasses flood. Just agonizing.

Tolkein couldn't write poetry if a gun was held to his head and he was under threat of death to write a decent poem. And every chapter has one, two, or more of his awful fucking Vogon poetry.

I'll be just getting into the rhythm of the story when fucking JRR decides it's time to pull out his Prostetinic Vogon Jeltz mask and begin:

The Myth of the Neutral Platform

In her own hateful words

There is a common misconception that providing a stage for extremist viewpoints is an act of "objective journalism" or "free speech advocacy." However, when you give a KKK leader, a Nazi, or a bigot a microphone, you aren't just observing them; you are participating in their expansion.

Marshmallow Peeps Are Proof That God Has Forsaken Us

I don't know about you, but when I look at a Marshmallow Peep I don’t see a treat; I see a chemical glow that has no business existing in nature. It’s a neon warning sign in the shape of a bird. Then comes that first bite - that weird, gritty mouthfeel where the sugar crystals scrape against your teeth like fine-grit sandpaper, followed immediately by the soul-crushing squish of a marshmallow that feels less like food and more like a damp, sugary tire.

Power Without Oversight Is Not Law Enforcement

In a constitutional system, enforcement authority is granted with an explicit condition: it must be constrained, reviewable, and accountable. When any agency operates beyond meaningful oversight, power ceases to be lawful in practice even if it remains lawful in name.

This concern is not theoretical. Repeated audits, inspections, and independent reviews have documented systemic failures in immigration enforcement agencies to meet basic standards of transparency, accountability, and humane treatment. These findings come not from advocacy alone, but from inspectors general, federal courts, and oversight bodies tasked with evaluating compliance with the law.

When Democracy Requires More Than Words

Democracy doesn't collapse in a single moment. It erodes gradually, through delay, complacency, and the comforting illusion that someone else will intervene before lasting damage is done. By the time the threat feels undeniable, the tools meant to stop it are often weakened or already gone.

This is the danger of treating civic engagement as symbolic rather than functional. Voting, representation, and institutional balance are not gestures of identity or expressions of mood. They are mechanisms. When those mechanisms fail to operate as designed, democratic systems lose their ability to correct abuse, enforce accountability, and restrain the concentration of power.

A Scorched Earth Wake Up Call - Impeach Trump Now

There comes a point where outrage stops being a reaction and becomes a survival instinct. We passed that point years ago. We're living under a man who treats war like a toy. Iran, Venezuela, anywhere he can point a finger and pretend he's a strongman. It's reckless. It's cruel. It's the behavior of someone who should never have been allowed near power.

And here's what breaks me. Here's what turns anger into something volcanic. The deaths of girls in US bombings. My claim is simple. One hundred seventy five girls. Gone. Wiped out by the kind of military action Trump treats like a flex. Children who never had a chance. Families who will never recover. Futures erased because someone in Washington wanted to look tough on television.

The Midterm Mirage: America’s First Tyrant and the End of the Experiment

 

I’ve been listening to the "cancellation" rumors swirling around the White House this week; let’s be real; when this man hints at something, he’s usually already got the matches lit. The talk of "suspending" the 2026 midterms for "national security" or "election integrity" is the final boss of his authoritarian fever dream. We are staring down the barrel of a permanent presidency; the big question isn't just if he’ll try it, but what the hell happens when he does.

The Havana Tripwire: Why Trump's "Friendly Takeover" is a Nuclear Death Wish

I’ve been watching the news this week with a mounting sense of dread; if you aren’t feeling it too, you aren’t paying attention. Trump is out there on the White House lawn casually tossing off comments about a "friendly takeover" of Cuba like he’s talking about buying a failing golf course. But let’s be clear; there is nothing friendly about a fuel blockade that has families in Havana cooking over wood fires because the grid is dead.

Let Them Eat Cake? Or Should They Eat The Rich?

A conversation snippet with my friend Gale inspired me to do some quick research and write up my thoughts about the super rich. Here we go:

Cap Is as Stupid as Pinocchio's Nose Is Long

I spent three hours last night chasing my own tail because "Cap", as I call the Microsoft Copilot AI pre-installed on my laptop, decided to run me around the fucking bushes. I asked for a simple fix to get my graphics filter librarian working; instead of the two-step solution I requested, I got a 2500-piece jigsaw puzzle (with one missing piece) of tech geekery that went nowhere.

The Stupidest Revenants in Modern Life: DST the Electoral College, and Inches

Daylight Saving Time made sense when the country was built on farming and manual labor. People woke up with the sun. Work depended on daylight. Shifting the clock actually changed how much usable light you had in a day. That world is gone. We are not an agrarian society anymore. We haven’t been for a long time. Yet twice a year we keep yanking the clock around like it still matters.

The whole thing is stupid now. Most people work indoors. Most people live by digital schedules. Our phones adjust automatically. Our jobs don’t depend on squeezing the last bit of sunlight out of the evening. But we still cling to this outdated ritual that does nothing except screw up sleep cycles, disrupt kids’ routines, and make everyone miserable for a week. It’s a tradition that survived only because no one bothered to kill it.

Why Celtics Fans Need to Stop Ignoring Kevin McHale

Kevin McHale wasn’t just part of the Big Three. He was the piece that made the whole thing work. Bird was the genius. Parish was the anchor. But McHale was the matchup nightmare that turned Boston’s front line into something the league had never seen before. Without him, the Big Three isn’t the Big Three. It’s just Bird and Parish with a missing limb.

What’s wild is how often he gets ignored now. Modern Celtics fans talk about Bird like he carried the entire decade on his back, and they treat McHale like he was some nice supporting character instead of the guy who put half the league in the torture chamber. He was the one opponents dreaded. He was the one Barkley and Olajuwon openly admitted they couldn’t guard. He was the one who could drop 30 on you without breaking a sweat or saying a word.

The Myth of the “Great Dad" and the Reality of Child Neglect

Trigger Warning: Child abuse both physical and sexual, serious neglect

I have come to realize that my father was not the great man everyone insists he was. People love to build legends out of the bare minimum, and he benefited from that more than most. They thought he was the world's greatest man and father, because he was raising two girls "all by himself".

My sister was raised by her best friend's family, in their home, where she essentially lived from age 7 to 15. I stayed home until I was ten and moved in with my mother for a year. Then St. Ann's and being trained like a wild dog. Ma and St. Ann's staff were the people who taught me how to fake it enough to survive in normal people situations. 

The truth about Dad is simpler and uglier. He did not protect me. He did not teach me. He did not discipline me. He neglected me so thoroughly that it shaped the entire trajectory of my childhood.