My Great MLB Disappointment: The Permanent Manfred Man & Other Thoughts

So earlier this week, as a true baseball fan, I came across the story that I had dreaded as baseball begins to kick back into gear for another season with players starting to report to their teams respective Spring training sites.

I came across the story at MLB Trade Rumors, which, if you are a baseball fan, is a good informative site and one that doesn’t seem to need to beat you over the head as much with Statcast nonsense like MLB where it is practically part of their site’s stories mission statement, I think, to inundate you with as much useless Statcast shit as possible, in every other paragraph, with surely some quota for writers for a minimum number of times to employ the mind numbingly useless numbers followed by an “as per Statcast”. 

It has really diminished the writing of the beauty and the brilliance and the romance of the sport.

Sorry, but no one is hangin’ ‘round the water cooler discussing or marveling at exit velocities or launch angles or spin counts or arbitrary “elite” something or others or percentiles or comical percentages of possibilities no matter how much you hard hit rate them.

Now, as this true baseball fan, I have always made a part of every day of the offseason a check in with whatever news was available to me, in whatever form, from old newspapers back when to now MLB and Trade Rumors for the latest talk and moves and then to DK Pittsburgh sports more recently, and specifically, to check in on the latest talk and possible moves in the world of my beloved Pittsburgh Pirates, beloved since I first discovered the game and then started to work on understanding it, then play it (in many forms for many years) and even to dream impossible dreams of it, Black and Gold dreams.

But I came across the dreaded story and my disappointment was palpable, to me at least, in a swing too hard knock it foul anger kind of way, but, sadly, it wasn’t unexpected as Rob Manfred and MLB have always had this as one of their major game change goals since shamelessly using Covid as a way to force it into the conversation and then onto the field back in 2020 and then for the next two seasons after. Shamelessly I say as Covid was used as the excuse for it being necessary to possibly shorten the games for safety concerns but it was still ok to schedule 7 inning doubleheaders? I knew we were screwed last season when, at the last minute, after it had been taken off the table, it was reinstated for “just one more season” when in reality it was reinstated as one more opportunity to force fans to accustom to the idea of just one more season and beyond, like the best of propagandist will when they repeat lies over and over until you just acquiesce.

The dreaded? The gift runner on second base to start extra innings, the Manfred Man (borrowed term) if you will, an embarrassment to and a mockery of the sport, damning the integrity of the game. And no, it’s not a “Ghost” runner as it might be called, has been called, is called, as the headline of that dreaded story at MLB Trade Rumors read when I first came about it earlier this week and has been used in other stories.

This isn’t some wiffle ball or stick ball game in my backyard with friends when I was 12 by the way, though I guess the childlike playground rules nature of it kind of applies but the difference being that even in those wiffle ball or stick ball contests, when we were kids, we still had respect enough for the game that that “ghost” runner actually had to earn his place on second base depending on what constituted a double for us at Frankenberry Field. 

At least we knew what a legitimate game was and within the rules of this game we played and loved, a wiffle ball one, or a stick ball one, with a small number of friends, maybe just a couple to a side, where we placed imaginary runners at their earned bases, we knew of the game’s importance to us, we kept within the rules of the real game as best we could. Bill punched his wiffle/tennis ball past the double line, Sav squeaked a seeing eye single past Dave (we always had at least one infielder at second along with a pitcher) or if we were lucky enough to have had six guys that day, another at third, but we now had runners at the corners.

We didn’t make anything up when it came to what “ghost” was on base. It was baseball as best we could imitate it, Bill punched that double and Sav squeaked that single. And we never tried to find a way to shorten the end of it, however much Mom’s sandwiches and iced tea enticed us to take a break and we didn’t make millions while doing so.

But MLB? They don’t even try to make the best as could, no, they just alter what we found to be baseball gospel, earned things, but instead just imagine Bill’s punched double to be just that, imagined, and then place a “ghost” there as if Bill had never even grabbed a bat in hopes to get to Mom’s sandwiches a little earlier.

Now MLB will try to justify how they want to get to those sandwiches, how fans will see the new permanent extra inning games as actual baseball.

“I think for fans it does bring focus at the end of the game” according to Rob Manfred.

What “focus” is that Rob? That a first pitch single will get you to the parking lot faster and rob you of the excitement that extras can bring? Yeah, that focus.

No, no it doesn’t bring focus, unless of course you mean by focus the focus of wives who have agreed to sit in lawn chairs and pretend to glory their beer league boys while wanting to get to the bar as early as possible along with their men.  

The wives know as well as anyone else that it is not real baseball or softball any longer as beers and bar apps await, man that place has the best potato skins, can we pick up the pace please?

Hell, MLB even admits that this “gift” runner on second during the regular season is not legitimate baseball as they abandon it in the playoffs, I mean, you don’t want somebody’s team losing the World Series on a bunt and a sacrifice fly or just that simple leadoff single on the first pitch in the bottom of the tenth now do you?

And don’t get me started on the other new rule changes for this season, pitch clocks, eschewing shifts that have been in play for decades and have always been part of the game (manager waving fielders to the right or the left) and shortening the distance between the bags as artificially producing offense seems to be the only goal, that’s what the peoples want right, more offense, even if it’s cheap? Just like those juiced home runs right?

You might say that all of this hasn’t changed the game Rob, but that’s just not true.


“Step right up, step right up!”

(Megaphone, Top Hat, fancy gold festooned red vest)

“Come under the tent and see the greatest game in history!”

(Manfred on the mound directing the spotlight to second base)

“Behold the magic of a baserunner suddenly appearing where he shouldn’t be!! The Manfred Man who appears not what you see! A Ghost!”

“But will soon send us home early in a lesser baseball spree! And extras long no longer a need to be!!”

“But it’s still baseball we will decree!”

“Step right up, step right up!!”

“You will also see the ease now of stolen bases and doubles and triples with gained inches that are sure to be sinched with larger bags flipping a finch to the game’s shared history”

“Step right up, step right up!!”


Well Rob, if it makes you feel vindicated, you will have certainly shortened games, at least for this one diehard as I will never watch any game past nine any longer. I know I will fade, I’m old now and things will gain a sad normalcy but this one will still never rise above being a gimmick, a sideshow, a cheapening of the sport.

My Buccos could be in the chase at the end of September, a division on the line possibly, as I watch my paid for MLB subscription for as long as its been available (never an easy pay for me) but if it goes to extras I will have to turn it off, as I have for two seasons now (2020 didn’t count, should never count, an aberration, didn’t grab an inning) as watching a cheapened version of a possible victory just wouldn’t be worth it.


And by the way? I would so love to see the game, with new artificially created offense and defensive limitations discount the time hoped to be saved from all of this.

I’m not a petty guy, but I will be in this case.  

Old Days & Mix Tapes

So Jolie, a long time friend of mine from my WVU days, happened upon this picture of a mix tape lineup at my facebook spot here from our days together going on 30 years now. A picture of a mix tape’s list of tunes that I couldn’t even begin to remember where it is that she came about it, well I mean I know where it is, obviously it’s there, I mean she found it and liked it, I just hadn’t thought to look for it in quite a while but was wonderfully reminded that it exists there somewhere (not thinking of other possible pics that might exist … really, I didn’t know they had a camera … well Ok … not TOO embarrassing I guess … I’m alright with average though I’ll tell myself above so).

There was this alternative college radio station and there was this bar, the Foxfire Pub, that liked this alternative college radio station enough to get drunk with it, get drunk with it quite often and sleep with it and build babies/friends who would go on to do wonderful things, live wonderful lives but still talk to this day and give and take shit and even accidentally, it seems, come across reminders of those first flirting days. (I’m not condoning sleeping with your college alternative music mix pub by the way).

Brian said that if I built new tapes (for you youngins they were things called cassettes, original Mix tape things, things that you recorded songs on and tried to impress girls with, in a small flat plastic thingy with spinny holes, playable in cars as new car standard then) that the beers were on him for the night, a Friday or a Saturday, depending on when I presented my beer tape golden ticket .

#14? Yeah, I had quite a few freebie nights it seems … still searching for my pants from tape # 9 and my New Order T-shirt from tape #3. Sheila? Really? I loved that T-shirt.

I thought to YouTube the tunes then and, man, I suddenly didn’t feel that ache in my shoulder and my ginger stand ups from a wonky back? I could lift the world, ok not really and that’s a bit too dramatic (bend at the knees dude) but I was young again for 3 or 4 minutes at a clip, the world was so big and I was so small according to Miracle Legion, Adrien Belew was all poppy, CS Angels did the drone, Railway Children got even more poppy than Adrien, the Bat Mastersons played the dining room after we cleared out all the tables AND the dinner patrons “You done with that? Seriously, we can box it up for you … now”, The Rave-Ups rocked (and still do), the Jack Rubies had that alternative sound and even Steely Dan snuck their asses in there.

Now this tape isn’t entirely indicative of what these tapes were. I’m a poppy guy and this one reflects that, but I wasn’t the only one to present a golden mix tape ticket, Bill Pearis was the one with more of an edge, but we both enjoyed those dumb free beers. Too much so. I’m sure we both made note, at some point, that the other got home safe while wondering why we were maybe shoeless in a fountain somewhere, in a neighboring state somehow or falling down a hill.

But these tapes were our world in the most perfect of spots, they were our thoughts rock and rolled when our own thoughts were insufficient, they were our identity … and, well, some free beers.

“Dude? Where the fuck are your shoes … and how about we do a Little Latin Lupe Lu with the Strawberry Zots?”

An Earworm Dilemma (the universe obviously hates me)

Sure sign the Universe is making you pay for something or just flat out hates you.

Was leaving the station(s) last night and playing at Randy’s (prod boss) desk was WGHQ, “Magic”, and I walked through “Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves” on my way to the back door.

It followed me in my head to the car, in my car until I hit the CD player, but it waited patiently until … out of my car, into Stop & Shop, around Stop & Shop, to the check out at Stop & Shop where I layed my money down, out of Stop & Shop, into my car a second time until I again hit the CD player, but insistent bastette that it was it waited patiently once more until, out of my car, past the din of the furry and feathered downstairs, up the stairs to the girls and until I could finally make it to the television for a saving.

When I woke up this morning I was good for a moment, ahhhhhhhhhh, I thought … gone … until … she was a gal in trouble and hadn’t seen that smooth southern bastard for a while, for a while … AGAIN!

Oh, Son of a Bitch!! Seriously Universe?!! Look, I know I don’t necessarily lead an exemplary life but I couldn’t have done anything THAT bad!!

“What’s that Universe?”

“At least Grandad’s sellin’ some bottles of Doctor Good to maybe ease my pain?”

“Yeah, real funny Universe, you’re a fucking card”.

Mohair (sweat) Pants Sweater

You know as a single guy who lives with two cats, is dusting challenged and isn’t metrosexual enough to own one of those sticky rolly things you’d think I’d know better than to buy black pants (cargo sweats in this case) let alone wear them out in public if I ignore this whole should “know better” thing.

I swear it looks like my pants are a fuzzy salt & pepper mohair sweater today.

Danger Ron (Mighty Mouse DeSantis Theme Song)

Been working on another DeSantis letter (Dear Great Leader wannabe) after a couple of others, “Woke Hopes” and “The DeSantis He Can”, including almost all the lyrics for a rewrite of Michael Jackson’s “PYT”, or in my rewrite’s case “CRT” and other 3 initial combos and a look into the GOP’s now constant boogeyman that they get so wrong (not surprisingly as they are a GOP that trust the likes of a Nikki and a Margie Q to lament the unamerican nature of truthful history or falsely claim its being taught in places that it ain’t – truth? Pshawww) but boogeymen and the dog whistles that come with them don’t have to be right they just have to be ON the right and stoke white folk.


Ha, gotcha!!

But the only instrumental version of “PYT” that I can find is a minute and half longer than the actual tune so that would be a bit more song figgerin’ plus there’s also a me trying to sing an MJ tune. I think I could swing it, minus the dancing of course (I’m old and terribly out of shape, could never choreograph such a thing, would probably pull a hammy or something and could also never dress as well as that – man those shoes and those jackets MJ) but …

… was wearing my Mighty Mouse T-shirt a couple of days ago and the thought occurred …

So a cartoon theme song then to a Mighty Mouse and a Danger Ron.

Danger Ron (Mighty Mouse DeSantis Theme Song)

Mr Crow he never hangs around

When he hears this frightnin’ sound

“Here I come to save white day”

That means that Danger Ron is on the way

Yes, when histry’s taught not solely white     

Danger Ron will pick a fight

Say no classroom legit’macy

Of lessers having part of history

It’s a clear and present danger

To the ex-ceptional

Rewrite he will instead to fit right’s call

(right’s call, truth’s fall, white’s tall, patriots)

Free thought’s only his to decide

To all others he will deride

Thoughts of inclusivity

Danger Ron’ll even ban diversity


He just flies in now to save us all

From real truth that can’t stand tall

Against Danger Ron’s fascist tries

He’ll sure cut the lessers down to size

So Then Sunday: Trump D’s Golden Scepter (song)

With the Orange asshat out on the road and being all extra Orangey and asshatty recently, of course attacking anyone who dares not support him with that special brand of witless wit of his, I thought I’d go back to February of 2020 for a bit of fun and a take on “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”.

Good times.

Plus as an added bonus, if you click now, there are a couple of links to this Beatles phase of mine, though obviously dated, including a limited edition version of “Yellow Submarine”, act fast!! Don’t delay!! Only available for today!! (Ok, well …)


February 16, 2020

A most bestest of friend of mine (yeah, I said most bestest … what of it?) who I sent a rough draft of this, texted me to complain of an ear worm. Apologies I said, but, selfishly, I’m all good with complaints of an ear worm. I’ll take that as a compliment to some of my endeavor’s annoying stick-in-the-headedness.

Though I recently posted my collection of Beatles/Trump tunes from the last year or so, The Orange Album, it seems that wasn’t a final Beatles piece. I’m thinkin’ I’d pair this version of Maxwell’s Silver Hammer with my version of Yellow Submarine, “Orange Quarantine” for an A and B side single if I could do such a thing. A good ol’ double sing-a-long. Tap a toe if you’d like.

Cheers as always gang,

Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Don wasn’t quizzical

It seemed to him illogical

To find truth that leaves no doubt

Don’t allow intelligence in this


He hid his shortcomings

In wordy salad long goings

He makes no sense at all

But staff always picks up the messy dropped word


But just then that damn press it drops by

To point out all his lies

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Came down upon their heads

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Would threaten them be dead

Back at podium

He sings his tried true stratagem

Of playing victim’s card

Dem’s they are just mean

As you all have


He tells ‘merica

Believe Mob King Republica

Vindicated now

And those who don’t agree will pay dearly

And how-ow-ow-ow

The swamp’s tides getting much stronger now

So he paddles up with no mind

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Comes down upon our heads

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Dissension will be dead

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Would turn us all to red

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Loyalty it must be bred

His senate they are all in line

Claiming everything is fine

Dem’s are those to blame

Future now an easier despot


Lindsey and lackey crows

Talk around with Fox News shows

Espousing all the lies

While Mitch hopes to continue with Russian


And the GOP laughs right in our face

As the Trump tries to force blind

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Held high above our heads

(doo doo doo doo)

Bang! Bang! Trump D’s Golden Scepter

Propaganda’s never dead

whoa whoa whoa whoa!

(doo doo doo doo)

Golden Scepter

ding ding

(doo doo doo doo)

So Then Sunday: You Can Call Me King (song)

Haven’t done a So Then Sunday in a while. For a refresher it’s a Throw Back Thursday on a day that ain’t a Thursday. Back to March of 2020 to Paul Simon’s “You Can Call Me Al”, back in my earlies of this sort of thing. Always liked this one. One of my faves and one of my best as far as that goes.


March 7, 2020

After coming downstairs yesterday morning, grabbing a seat across from the couch and picking up little Spanky, the now, unfortunately, one eyed Pirate of a dog in my lap I said to Celie “Arrrggghh (pirate talk) and be alright, but after I be getting home tonight, a bit late after some time in my little studio to be a’fixin’ a few things on my latest shantie, I’ll be but hunkering down for the weekend”

spanky the pirate

(I stole the thought of the “be’s” and the pirate talk from a brilliantly funny story I recently read at The New Yorker. Learning The Ropes by Simon Rich. A fantastic story. You may have the time now, so take a moment. It be well worth it).

Celie: Corona?

Me: Yeah.

Celie: Stop and Shop in the morning?

Me: Well, except for that. Then Yeah.

Celie: Get cat food, litter, beer, seltzer and small Steve food?

Me: Of course, though no beer. Too early. I’ll be going down when they open at 6. Less people. I’m also all set in the beer regard anyway. Staple already stocked. And then no human contact other than that nice woman who works Saturday mornings there … I want to call her Grace but that’s not it … it’s shorter … Kay maybe. … or Gay … her and possibly that other woman who may pop by to not need to bag my stuff.

Celie: So, just a regular weekend?

Me: Hey! … it’s a hunkering … waaay different thank you Ms Smartypants.

Celie: Gotcha.

Well maybe my well honed skills at being anti-social will work in my favor during all this. Tell the universe I didn’t say that out loud by the way.

I did though fix up and finish my latest tune, adding a few soundbites as well as changing the “na-na’s”.

Changing the “na-na’s?’ Now that sounds kinda funny.

I was a “na-na” on the initial “na-na’s”?

A man lies as he breathes
He says why would you trust another now
Who can you possibly trust
Now I’ve shown you what my facts is
A fascist truth sledgehammer
Nuthin’ else believe-able matters
Other than this con in this con man’s swamptown

(and a-oooh ah-oooh)

Lap dogs in orange swamplight
Here’s a lie-ball GOP go fetch excuses

Newsman, newsman
Get these facts away from me, ya know,
No one finds real truth interesting anymore

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Czar

This man original Trumper says
There can never be a never me
If there’s a never me they’ll never be
Happy in a sea of me
Where will the answers come from
If I don’t truly be-lieve
Who will I turn to when
The truth slaps me
Awake and awake
To the harsh realities
Of Moscow Mitch’s word marble hypocriteness
Hammers and sickles
Getting stocked up in the open
Along with some of the finest cossack hats

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me King
You can call me King


A man late night he’s tweeting
How he’s a victim in this world
Maybe it’s a big blue meanie world
Where they’re just out to get him
And they don’t see his genius
Or see how great he his
The greatest all narcissists
Surrounding himself with nothing more than
Clowns clowns
Who dance for him like marionettes
In a tiny orange circus

He checks the mirror again
Sees Messiah staring back at him
At least that’s what the hacks say
And he so believes them

If you’ll loyalty me blind
I can be your despot chum
I can call you subject
And subject you adore me
You can call me Don

Just call me king-na-na
You can kiss my ring na-na
Loyalties the thing na-na
Better never sing na-na
I’ll take your everything na-na

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Better give up mind now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
You’ll be just fine now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Just a matter of time now

Ummmm ah-ah
Ummmm ah-ah
Democracy dies now

If you’ll loyalty me blind

I’ll let you kneel and kiss my ring

I can call you subject

And subject you adore me

You can call me King

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Woke Hopes (song) Revisited

DeSantis administration rejects AP African American course for Florida High Schools

“It is inexplicably (laugh – lotta syllables – surprise) contrary to Florida law and significantly lacks educational value” (because it’s not possible to purposely devalue even more)

“In the future, should the College Board be willing to come back to the table with lawful, historically accurate (funny) content, FDOE will always be willing to reopen the discussion” (because being “lawfully AND historically accurate” is ripe only for our interpretation, not discussion, in our alternate version of history … and note “lawful” again … there will be repercussions if not …)

So, with little Dictator in waiting’s latest and even more brazen de-humanizing admonishment of anyone who dares attempt to allow any other than the chosen have an identity and a history, especially a one that doesn’t comply with his continued whitewashing take on such (we gots laws and such now in this great state of sunshine ignorance) I thought to this one from August of last year.

It’s not much, doesn’t cover this in particular per se, but has it’s moments, just a ditty, a ditty that says a little ditty thing about a ditty little thing, about a thing, about a person who is a grave danger to us all.

Woke Hopes (little dictator song)

Next time you’re told

To be woke isn’t bold

By a Ronnie who scolds

Know he just trolls  

Just what makes little dictator rant

About some things that he says ya just can’t

Eyes open to inclusion now

A weakness you can’t allow

But we’ve got woke hopes

We’ve got woke hopes

Hopes not turning blind eye to the “other” folks

But when you need a bigot’s screed

To tell you what truth’s to heed

Just remember his rant

Ohhhhh …

Ooops, there goes another Ronnie slam

How being hu-man is just another scam

Ooops, there goes the truth a now also ran

Ronnie now calls

To his herd of mind smalls

That they must all stand tall  

Or think to brawls

Now Ronnie says CRT is just crap

Doesn’t fit his supremacist rap

His white kin they were ex-cep-tional

Racism don’t even track

Cause he’s denier of truth

With slaves country didn’t build roof

And if you say otherwise

Laws he’ll pass making rights go poof  

So anytime you hear Ron speak

Know his white’s been tweaked

And he just won’t couch for that

Ohhhhh …

Ooops, there goes some more to demonize

Inclusive compassion that’s a bunch a lies

Ooops, here goes some hate to try on for size    


Ron threatens anyone who don’t agree

With his hist’ry tree

Don’t be of them and not we

Ohhhhh …

Ooops, there goes another truth to turn

Ooops, there goes another book to burn  

Ooops, there goes democracy to be spurned

Mm Mm

A New House

Not my usual if not a parody tune in this regard, as I try to stay away from straight up commentary. No one reads that shit here, it’s too easy, and too dull. Occasionally though …

Recent GOP House timeline

Pre mid-terms : chomping at the bit for a red wave that will usher in some actual governing from a party that generally avoids such a thing, possibly taking control of both houses. (temperature: giddy, if that were a temperature)

Post mid-terms: nurse wounds from a new found non-existent red wave that just leaves asses chafed and chapped but still chomping at the bit to actually do some governing now after a narrow victory though not really knowing exactly how anymore as governing is not their “thing” just obstruction and not condemning any of the dangerous and bigoted rhetoric of their members. (temperature: daffy … that’s actually a real temperature it seems)

Having one guy try to endlessly elect himself speaker of the House that will now finally allow them to start to govern, even though they have been turning a blind eye to such for years but telling you that they could do it better than anyone ever in the history of ever (words probably borrowed from a friend):

Try #1 – now is our time … ok just a test run …

Try #2 – no worries ..

Try #3 – ummm?

Try #4 – bloc of 20 holds tight, dubs themselves future cell block crazy’s

Try #5 – ?????

Try #6 – Jim Jordan has been nominated and that seems almost sane in the most insane way. Some bigwig nutter on Twitter with a ton of followers even has recently tweeted that he is the most trustworthy member of Congress, the shower kids surely agree.

Try #7 – still no worries, just trying to get our fu … ducks in a row

Try #8 – zzzzz

Try #9 – zzzzz

Try #10 – zzzzz

Try #11 – America? You still awake? This is Democracy in action. What can be more Democratic than being able to continue voting until you get your desired result?

Try #12 – zzzzz

Try #13 – zzzzz

Try #14 – No, seriously you can bounce me at any time with just one vote of any of the bloc or another against me, can use my house at any time, no warning, just show up, you can even use it as a stepping off point for transporting minors across state lines if need be. It’s a really nice house, she’ll love it.

Try #15 – Success!! “I hope that one thing is clear after this week: I never give up … My father always told me: It’s not how you start or how much you embarrass and subjugate yourself along the way. It’s how you finish and make that phone call to Florida. “It’s a Kevin, says you know him, will you accept the charges?” We have got to finish strong for the American people (as long as they are rich).”

Finally in charge with the slimmest of margins the first order of business is to block the dollars in new IRS funding without actually looking at how that funding is to be spent, or NOT spent, or over what period of time, or why, no, just headline theatre damning the torpedoes of billions added to the deficit over same period of time, we are the fiscally responsible ones after all, trust us, while sending a message to rich friends that we will do everything we can to allow you to keep cheating on your taxes even though that’s not what this is about.

Announce an investigation into the definition of false equivalencies, and documents equated, which you would think having been used so often in the recent past that it wouldn’t need be defined but equivalencies has a LOT of syllables, shit’s tough, so the correct definition is vitally important. Instead, it shall now be defined as “I know what you are but what am I …”

Promise to investigate investigations into the investigators and how investigations came to be investigations and how those investigations were investigating things we didn’t want to be investigated unless of course we are the ones investigating. Oh, and laptops, laptops are coming. don’t forget laptops (and wistfully remembering her emails … man, the good ol’ days).

Declare Jan 6 a new national holiday. Patriots day.

Roll back the ban against smoking on Capitol Hill.

Doing important shit here.

Next up?

“Hey, I figured out what false equivalency means”

“No, no you didn’t”

“Sorry, my bad”

A Riveting Sunday

Frankenberry’s latest thriller “Apartment” is a riveting discourse into the nature of …

Dude?! …

What? …

You know this isn’t a movie right? …

Shut up … a riveting discourse into the nature …

Seriously dude, it’s not a film, it’s just you sitting and repeating the word riveting …

… a riveting discourse into …

Ok, never mind, I’m out …

A riveting discourse into the nature of …

Hey one more thing …

What?! …

You know … whatever, fuck it …

… a riveting discourse into the nature of face plants with cats and Sundays the documentary (Rotten Tomatoes avg score 87% audience score 98% … screw you you heartless 2%) …