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Trump And #Covfefe Walk Into A Bar

covfefe_tweet_e7606ca3feccb5943b69b8dd8c93a84f-nbcnews-ux-2880-1000
~ Well, I dunno, TheDonald.

~ What?

~ You’ve kinda started rodeo-riding the shark.

~ “Ye-Haw”

~ This might be the effin’ #covfefe end.

~ Or maybe the beginning – believe me!

~ How do you figure that, U li’l #covfefe lover, you?

~ You know the little man behind the curtain?

~ From the #covfefe Wizard of Oz?

~ Marvellous movie. Fantastic movie.

~ Yes

~ Love those red shoes.

~ But what –

~ Click them together.

~ What does that –

~ Goes with the tie.

~ What has that got to do with #covfefe?

~ “Somewhere, Over The Rainbow” I sing along.

~ #covfefe FOCUS POTUS #covfefe

~ What do you do with the man behind the curtain?

~ Pay no attention to him.

~ But everybody does.

~ Yeh

~ They all look at him.

~ Yeh

~ Gawk gawk gawk

~ #covfefe right

~ So you don’t really look behind him.

~ No.

~ Not supposed to.

~ No.

~ I’m behind the curtain behind him.

DE

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Trump And The Pope Walk Into A Bar

donald-trump-pope-810x610

~ What’s your poison, your Holiness?

~ Always a little wine.

~ Do you think I could get a title like that?

~ Pardon?

~ “Your Holiness”.

~ I have my doubts.

~ I could really go for that – believe me.

~ You’d have to change your faith, my Son.

~ That could work.

~ It’s not as easy as you might think.

~ Gotta go into the mumbo jumbo, would I?

~ There are things to learn – yes.

~ And my Latin probably sucks.

~ You could avoid that.

~ E Pluribus Unum

~ Well, that’s a start.

~ I got lots of them, believe me.

~ It’s more than just money, my Son.

~ I’ve got billions of them.

~ So I’ve heard.

~ Billions and billionser. Feels good.

~It’s easier, my Son, for a camel to go through the eye of a needle.

~ Could choke a camel with them. Wad them down its throat.

~ That wouldn’t really solve the problem.
 

~ “In God We Trust” – that’s what it means.

~ Pardon?

~ E Pluribus Unum.   It means “In God We Trust”. Religious as hell.

DE

(image)https://media.toofab.com/2017/05/24/donald-trump-pope-810×610.jpg

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Trump And Nixon Walk Into A Bar

~ Mr. President.

~ President Tricky.

~ You’re trying to replace me.

~ What?

~ In the affections of the American people.

~ Have you been drinking?

~ Fucking A about that. You are ruining my reputation.

~ I don’t even think about your reputation – believe me.

~ But you’re pulling a Nixon.

~ Not even close, Dick. May I call you Dick?

~ Sure, Donny. Is it true you don’t drink?

~ Not a drop.

~ Jesus – you do this stuff sober?

~ I’ve got the Will of the People and the Blessing of God.

~ God doesn’t give a shit.

~ I know that. And neither do the People.

~ They’ll take you down, Donny.

~ That was a big part of your problem, Dick.

~ What?

~ You cared what people thought of you.

~ They brought me down – the bastards.

~ Yeh – but you lived out your life OK.

~ Heh! I became an Elder Statesman.

~ And kept out of prison.

~ If I had sung, I would have brought down the whole corrupt Elite with me.

~ If I drank, I’d drink to that, Dick.

~ So, Donny, do you plan sticking around?

~ While I’m having fun – yeh.

DE
(image)i2.cdn.cnn.com/cnnnext/dam/assets/130109124807-21-nixon-horizontal-large-gallery.jpg
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Trump And France Walk Into A Bar

flag-of-france

~ Monsieur le Président. What can I get you?

~ I’m guessing it will be wine?

~ It does not need to be.

~ Isn’t that what’s supposed to be civilised?
~ les Français have a much wider civilisation than that.

~ I have a fondness – or is it a weakness – for Charteuse.
~ That is fine, mais …

~ I like the green colour in the glass.
~ Indeed, it is beautiful.
~ Have you another suggestion?

~ Absinthe
~ Uh-oh. That sounds like a baddie, believe me.
~ It has a certain heft.
~ You know I don’t drink?
~  Mais, oui.
~ Then what is the purpose?
~ It is poor diplomacy to drink alone.
~Then have at it.
~ Monsieur Trump, the whole country – all of Europe – would like to thank you.
~ Am I going to get a wedgie here?
~ Not at all – you have saved us.
~ It’s starting to feel really really tight in my butt cheeks.
~ The citizens français have seen what you accomplish.
~ It’s getting hard to sit down.
~ And have voted against something similar happening here.
~ Are you trying to get me to drink this thing?
~ Mais, non. You just keep being who you are.

DE
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Trump And Putin Walk Into A Bar

us-missiles-syria-2

~ Have you been drinking the vodka, Donald?

~ Why do you ask, Vlad?

~ Because you are acting like Russian.

~ You know what Ivanka told me?

~ Nyet

~ That I was Putin you in your place.

~ Maybe I’ll have other drink.

~ We all laughed, believe me.

~ A double, I think.

~ Even President Xi. I didn’t know a Chinaman laughed.

~ To hell with double. Leave the bottle.

~ You know what Ivanka said about Assad?

~ Let me fill glass.

~ She said that I Bashared his Ass.

~ Ivanka has a mouth.

~ Tears. We howled laughter until the tears came.

~ Maybe she’d like to sell dresses in Russia.

~ She’ll sell you the best dresses, believe me.

~ Maybe some fur hats – made in Crimea.

~ You don’t want her starting a war, do you?

~ Donsky – you’re a funny man.

~ It’s where she gets it. Believe me.

DE

 

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Trump And Kafka Walk Into A Bar

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~ Frank. Welcome to your world.

~ Thanks, DT. I’ve been living it all my life.

~ I’ve taken some pages out of your books, Frank.

~ I did try to get them burned.

~ You didn’t try too hard.

~ Well – no.

~ You know – neither did I.

~ I know. They all ran to your tune.

~ They did.

~ You were the Pied Piper of Havoc.

~  Worked like a charm, Frank.

~ Yes, DT – yes, it did.

~ They thought I was a bug.

~ Yes.

~ But I turned them into bugs.

~That you did, DT. And turned them against each other.

~ Yes.

~ And stood back, and watched.

~ Pretty well.

~ To the victor goes the spoils.

~ I was astounded – believe me.

~ And they keep making the same mistakes.

~ I know, Frank.  I’d laugh if it wasn’t so funny.

~ The one-eyed man is King in the land of the Blind.

~ Yes, Frank – yes. But you know what?

~  What?

~ I’ve got great vision in both eyes.

DE

(image)http://www.lavoroculturale.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/11/tumblr_l0bis3rtmb1qz6f9yo1_500.jpg

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Obama And Joe Walk Into A Bar To Ponder

bar-e1455884974812

~ What’s your poison, Joe?

~ A Moscow Mule.

~ Since when are you a vodka man?

~ Just trying to fit in with the 46th.

~ Joe!

~ Make him feel at home.

~ That is so not-politically correct in so many ways.

~ Neither is he.

~ Point taken, Joe.

~ Did you just say Putin, Boss?

~ Joe!

~ So, I’ve gone around the mansion.

~ Joe.

~ And I’ve put red stickers on the art work.

~ What?

~ Like they’re sold.

~ Are you messing with him again?

~ Yeh.

~ Joe.

~ But I’m being subliminal as hell.

~ What do you mean?

~ The stickers are really little red squares.

~ What the –

~ He’s going to be on the hot line faster than a goose to the bathroom.

~ Joe.

~ That’s politically correct, isn’t it?

~ Are you shittin’ me, Joe?

~ Boss!

DE

(image)http://i0.wp.com/b-live.in/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/bar-e1455884974812.jpg?resize=350%2C200

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Joebama Walk Into A Bar

gilbert-scott-bar

~ What’s your poison, Joe?

~ I think it’s a rum night.

~ Any reason?

~ It’ll encourage me to give him a rum for his money.

~ Joe. You know you’ve got to stop.

~ Yeh, Boss. In January.

~ Messing with his head isn’t going to do any good.

~ It can’t do any harm.

~ True – we’re past that.

~ Gotta have a bit of fun.

~ Hillary could use a bit of fun.

~ I’m not a magician, Boss.

~ True.

~ Though I have a few riffs on The Glass Ceiling surviving Kristallnacht.

~ Joe!

~ Too soon?

~ Not even this time next year.

~ OK.

~ I’ll pretend it’s the rum talking, Joe.

~ OK. I’ll stick to dealing with the 45th.

~ My successor.

~ The old Pussy-Grabber-in-Chief.

~ Joe.

~ I’ve put a few “For a good time, call – ” notes in the washrooms.

~ Joe.

~ I left Melina’s phone number.

~ Joe!

~ Gotta have fun, Barack. There’s only so much rum.

~ True.

~ And I haven’t even started on Pence.

~ Joe!

DE

(image)http://www.stpancraslondon.com/media/1640/gilbert-scott-bar.jpg?anchor=center&mode=crop&quality=90&width=1120&format=jpg&slimmage=true&rnd=131129703970000000&height=549

~

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The Government And The Social Contract ~ An Election Can’t Change It

Deepening Unemployment Hits Construction Industry Hard

Franz Kafka was a government employee who looked after the welfare of workers. Among other things, he invented the hard hat.

In my novel about him, he has an encounter with a worker who needs assistance. In his real life, this is how he would react.

Excerpt from Kafka In The Castle:

16 February 1917

There was a commotion at the office today. It was late morning, and from far below, coming up the stairwell, I could hear a voice bellowing: “Doktor Kafka. Doktor Kafka.”

It was a terrible voice, full of blood and darkness. I got from my desk and went to the door. There were other voices, trying to calm, saying: “He can’t be disturbed.” But the voice was louder, more horrible, close in the corridor.  “Doktor Kafka – for the love of God.”

My secretary wanted me to stay inside, hoped the man would just move along the corridor until the police were summoned. But – I was curious; the man had my name, and his voice was … terrified.

I opened the door and stood in front of it.  “I’m Kafka,” I said. The man lunged at me, and went to his knees.  “Doktor Kafka?” he said.  “Yes, I’m Kafka.” He reached out, grabbing for my hand.  “Jesus, Jesus, for the love of Jesus – they say that you’ll help me.”

He was a heavy man, and looked as if he had the strength to pull off doors, yet the tears burst from his eyes.  “I can get no work. I fell from a bridge, and my back is twisted and in pain.” He slumped against the wall, looking at my eyes.  “I have a family, Doktor Kafka. A baby not a year old.”  “You were working on this bridge?” I asked.  “Yes.” His voice slid down his throat. “I was helping repair the surface.”  “Then you deserve your insurance. Why can’t you get it?”

He straightened up, and tried to stand. “I have to fill in papers; the doctor can see no wounds; the foreman said I drank; because my brother is a thief, I am not to be trusted.” I held out my hand, and he slowly stood. “I’m telling you the truth, Doktor Kafka.”  “If that is so,” I said, “you’ll get the money due you.”  “I’m so tired,” he said.

I gave instructions to those standing around – no other work was to be done until this man’s case was decided.

I took him to my office, where he sat.

He sat – practically without a word – for five hours.

I summoned a prominent doctor to look at him. The doctor prodded, and the man screamed. Officials from his village were telephoned. I helped him with the details on the forms. His truth was in his pain. He left our stony building with money in his hand, and his worth restored.

The people who assisted me had smiles on their faces.

A man had needed their help.

DE

(image)http://mentalfloss.com/sites/default/legacy/blogs/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/86185783.jpg

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