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#Joebama 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%2C200eview=true”>Obama And Joe Walk Into A Bar To Ponder

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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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Roasted Squash Crème Brûlée

This is sooo oddly tempting.
~ This roasted squash crème brûlée perfectly embodies the warmth and taste of Thanksgiving. Watch a video and get the recipe from PBS Food.

Source: Roasted Squash Crème Brûlée

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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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Hillary And Obama Walk Into A Bar

cropped-purple-bar

~ What’s your poison, Madam Secretary?

~ The same as yours, Mister President.

~ Well, we’ve taken care of him. Perhaps some champagne.

~ From California.

~ Of course.

~ And something a little stronger, a little later?

~ I’ll let you choose, Mr. President, at my first formal dinner at The White House.

~ Hardly your first, Hillary.

~ No. But this time “Hail To The Chief” will be for me.

~ True. But Bill and I might hum along.

~ Boys will be boys.

~ And girls will be president.

~ What is precedence, Mr. President. Do I invite the loser?

~ Not such a sore loser. I think it unwise.

~ You don’t think The Donald will behave himself?

~ That’s one thing you will need for the office, Hillary.

~ What?

~ That great sense of humor.

~ You can’t imagine him with his mouth shut?

~ Wrong!

~ OK – I see what you mean by a sense of humor.

~ It always helps to smile when you’re fixing the problems.

~ I’m going to have a lot to smile about.

~ You can handle it, Madam President.

~ Thank you, Mr.President.

~ Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.

DE

(image)http://carlitoswaycocktails.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/06/cropped-Purple-bar.jpg

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Trump And Bill Clinton Walk Into A Bar

i033-open-sexy-sex-font-b-girls-b-font-pub-font-b-bar-b-font-club

~ What’s to be your poison, Donald?

~Something to help  with the pussy, Bill. You tell me.

~Well, you’re going to start having trouble there. The ladies aren’t liking you much.

~ They got you into a lot of trouble, too.

~ Yes, that they did.

~ Impeached your ass.

~Gotta admit that, Donald – yes. Though I was declared innocent.

~ Innocent as shit.

~ Eye of the beholder, Donald. Something you don’t understand.

~ What do you mean?

~ You’re a mess, my friend. You are one hoot-and-holler train wreck.

~ I’m clearing the track, Slick Willy – straight to the White House. Believe me.

~ No – that isn’t the station where you’re getting off.

~ You think Hillz is going to stop me?

~ And that’s one more of the many things you don’t understand.

~ Wrong.

~ Hillary – bless her – might be pointing the gun.

~ Wrong

~ But guess who’s pulling the trigger.

~ I’ve got the best security.

~ It’s the people, Donald.

~ I’ve even got the Secret Service.

~ You can’t fool all the people.

~ Wrong.

~ Even the ones who follow you don’t believe you.

~ Wrong.

~They might not trust my little filly.

~ Should be in prison.

~But there is one thing the people don’t fear about her.

~ What?

~ They don’t think she’s going to lead them over the cliff.

DE

(image)https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1p10pLVXXXXXVXVXXq6xXFXXXp/i033-OPEN-Sexy-Sex-font-b-Girls-b-font-Pub-font-b-Bar-b-font-Club.jpg

 

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Hillary And Trump Walk Into A Bar ~ The Election Closes In

Into the breach, once more.

Dale Estey's avatarkafkaestblog

lafnqroz

[It is the countdown, folks – so count along.]

~ What’s your poison, Donald?

~ I know what your poison is, Hillary.

~ What’s that?

~ You drink the Kool-Aid.

~ You’re the one who mixes it, Donald. I don’t touch the stuff.

~ It makes you nasty.

~ I’m starting to think you have a fixation on nasty women.

~ I like women.

~ You like to do things to women, Donald. It’s a big difference.

~ They love it.

~ They’d love to let you know how much they love it – I’ll grant you that.

~ So, you get all the women beating up on me, you think it will make you win?

~ A lot more than that is going to make me win.

~ What’s that?

~ You, Donald. You being you. Really, all I have to do is stand there and be superior.

~…

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Obama And Trump Walk Into A Bar – Election Closes In

With the countdown counting down …

Dale Estey's avatarkafkaestblog

bar20fight20morguefile20mcandea_0

~ What’s your poison, Donald?

~ The USA is poison – believe me.

~ Not to worry. I’m lancing that for you.

~ You use a sword and you stab in the back.

~ Sword of Justice.

~ And you like to twist it.

~  Look at the Statue of Justice.

~ Isn’t she blindfolded?

~ Yeh – so keep your hands to yourself.

~ A man gets certain thoughts, sometimes.

~ A man keeps them as thoughts, Donald.

~ We gotta put our hands somewhere.

~ Try your pockets.

~ Oh – that shit’s for other people. I get what I want.

~ Not this time.

~ You don’t think I’ll be the 45th president?

~ That slot is reserved for a woman.

~  Ugh – such a nasty woman.

~  Hillary cleaned your clock, Donald.

~ You think so?

~ Wiped the numbers right off your face.

~…

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