 Happy Thursday…I guess. I’m seriously considering another trip down the hidey hole. My gawd…everyone in the world is crazy…except Cousin Fred and I, of course. Alas, I will not be able to return to said hidey hole. If I do there is no telling what Cousin Fred and Gigi will be up to around The Compound. Things are already insane enough. Let’s see…they keep adding lights to the Cabinet Saloon replication on the north lawn. There are strings of them hanging from the top edge down to the ground. And, they’re smart lights so the lights twinkle, the lights blink, the lights chase up and down the strings. And we’re talking industrial strength lights…millions of LEDs all in a row. Note to self – need to start GoFundMe account to pay the electric bill next month. There are airplanes, the pilots of which making their final approach on The Cab, mistaking it for the airport. Truck drivers are pulling off the highway, thinking we’re some sort of (very) rural gentlemen’s club. NASA has a team of investigators here at The Compound after The Cab was spotted by the International Space Station. That, of course, prompted local law enforcement, who to this point had been unable to find The Compound (they followed the rocket scientists). The LEOs are parked out front, assuming the worst will happen (and it likely will). It’s their way. The first batch of spiritualists are due here today. It’s the bunch from Fiji. This will be interesting. At least the rain has stopped. But beyond The Compound, let’s see…the morons on Lincoln Blvd, aka, the Oklahoma Legislature, recessed their special session yesterday after spending something over $90,000 to come to the conclusion that they can’t solve anything. Well, there’s a rare step up in critical thinking. Maybe there’s hope…naaaaaah. So now they’re going to meet in committee, for free…wow, what a show of magnanimity! They’s going to works for free! I hope they don’t starve or nothing. Suppose HRH Queen Mary of Fallin will leave the ‘lectricity on in the building? Does anyone actually think that assortment of fish-eyed fools will get anything done working for free that they couldn’t when they were burning cash? Nope. Oh, and get this. He of pasty face, orange hair, and sonorous voice, Sen. Jim Lankford (R-OK), a member of the Senate Intelligence Committee announced yesterday he can confirm that the Russians are behind a lot of the mess with the whole take a knee thing going on in the NFL. Oh, and the boycott the NFL movement too…the Russians are also behind that. Really? What are you basing that on? He can’t tell us of course because it involves sources and methods that only Hillary Clinton would reveal in her secret Hotmail account…[email protected]. Put that in your G-D book and print it. Go on, blame me for your loss…please, I could use the notoriety. But, I digress…back to Boy Wonder Lankford. Keep the masses puzzled and listening by making the peasants think you know something they don’t. It’s how the intelligence community makes its bones. Then you feed the peasants cake. They’ll follow you anywhere…stupid sheep that we are. Does that mean The Trump is colluding with Russian trolls to get his whole boycott the NFL thing out and about? Does Mueller know about this? I smell a conspiracy here. What’s next? Suspending the Constitution? (Oh, you scoff…just wait). Guess we can start blaming the Russians for everything. Car won't start...damned Russians. Septic tank backs up...stupid Russians. Atwoods raises the price on .22LR ammo...ugh, Russians! Okay, the blood pressure is high enough this morning. On to lesser topics less likely to get me disappeared overnight. The Fijians are coming! Fijites? People from Fijistinia? Eh, details. It’ll be great, you’ll see! That is all!  0400…my usual poke-the-head-out-of-the-hidey-hole-to-see-if-civilization-(such that it is)-still-exists time. So far, so good (which may be a good thing or a bad thing). I downloaded my intelligence overnights from the dailymail site…such a great site.
Actually, we have kind of solved the lack of comms and/or Wi-Fi while I’m cowering underground. Cousin Fred began dropping notes to me with some regularity down one of the air tubes atop the cellar. Sometimes, his notes are informative, at other times they’re annoying like the series of notes yesterday wanting to know where I’d put the brown sugar in the pantry…he wanted to make Korean BBQ chicken for Gigi. Actually, that posed another question. Why the heck was he in the main house? Or, the better question is, how is he in the main house and The Wife hasn’t tried to kill him. Something new to contemplate as I sit below ground. The only problem with our system is that it’s one-way. I don’t really have a means for pushing responses back up through the air tube and usually shout my answers through the tube, but that requires a Cousin Fred, who is constantly in motion, to stand still long enough to hear the response. That’s asking a lot. Then, of course, the rains started falling yesterday which caused the tube to get wet when he had the cap off to drop the note. He kept forgetting to replace the cap (he’s so attentive that way). The notes began sticking to the inside, which of course led to a major constipative (sic) event and thus blocked my only source of air in this hell hole. Once we solved the tube blockage, I began pasting the wet notes on the walls of the hidey hole. It’ll make a nice monument to my Mole Man period. So, now, we know how much each day of the special session of the Oklahoma Legislature is costing us…$30,700. Actually, that’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s a lot, yes, but I was thinking that number would be in the $100,000s. Asked where the money to pay for the special session would come from, a Republican senator indicated it’s coming from the House’s budget established last session. Hmmm…uh…wait…does that mean…what? I see on the overnights that NoKo Feather Man Kim Jong Uno has declared that The Trump essentially declared war in a Tweet and that he (Kim) will begin shooting down U.S. planes. To the people of NoKo, in case you read this nonsense daily…no, no…you have to make an appointment to declare war. One dotard tweeting whatever covfefe is flying across his brain at the moment doesn’t actually count. However, you start shooting down planes and the sh*t may start. Everybody take a deep breath. That’s it…out with the love, in with the hate. Don’t you feel better now? For those of you who can’t get enough of trigger-happy reactionists in search of the slightest provocation…it’s coming. Cousin Fred and Gigi were busy overnight. The observation of the Cabinet Saloon gunfight (122 years) is only about ten days away. The two of them took a lot of time last night decorating the Cab – the Cabinet Saloon replication here at The Compound – in anticipation of the coming date. They obviously have nothing better to do. There’s also a huge banner over the entrance to The Compound that says, “Welcome Temple Houston Spiritualists.” Cousin Fred tells me that groups from Florida, Texas, and Fiji have already indicated that they’re coming. He said that two of the groups said that they will be arriving in the next few days to set up camp and begin channeling their combined power to urge Mr. Temple from the spirit world. Ugh…guests arriving…guess I’d better end my Mole Man period and get on with my spiritualist period. A long life, many phases…keeps things interesting…I guess. By the way, to keep things from becoming the fiasco they were last year, we’re looking for volunteers to help us keep the spiritualists here on the grounds. Let me know if you can help. No pay, but, if last time is any indication, there will be plenty of bad food (with hot sauce), whiskey, and ammo. It’s going to be a long ten days. That is all!  Attention! Attention, please! We at CCB are bringing you a “special” Saturday announcement. Gather around, Cosmic City Bloggites…here’s the buzz! The world will not, repeat NOT, end today, Saturday 23 September. But things are taking a downhill turn! So, I come up out of the hidey hole at 0400 to download the overnight intelligence. And, guess what? There’s a story reprinted from the Washington Post that contains an interview they did with David “Numbers” Meade, the doomsday prophet who claims that a rogue planet known as Nibiru is going to crash into the Earth. You know if the Washington Post is all over the story there must be something to it, right? After all, their motto taken from the Aramaic is “We wanted to be the New York Times, but the name and city were already taken.” Numbers is postponing the apocalypse…for now. He claims he was off on his numerology and that the key number is 33 not 23, or some nonsense like that. And, he is somehow tying the Great Pyramids of Giza to Jesus…eh, it’s all too scientific for me. Now then, let’s see, there isn’t a September 33, so he’s figuring the end of days is now in early October. BUT, and it’s a big ol’ but, he did say that today (9/23) is the tipping point and a series of calamities will be cascading toward the ultimate destruction of us all. WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE, just not as fast as previously thought. So that means you still have a few days to take up a life of crime, max out your credit cards, drive as fast as you’ve always wanted to drive, tell your boss to kiss your a**, start blowing up decrepit abandoned grain elevators for fun…oh, wait, that’s my list. You make your own. So a series of cataclysmic events begin today. Maybe that means that Alabama, Clemson, Penn State, and USC all lose their games today. No wait, that would be a good thing (again, my list). I’m feeling so refreshed…so alive…I may come out of the hidey hole today. But, wait, there’s more. Overnight, it seems that Supreme Moron and Pillsbury Laughing (laugh with him or die) Doughboy Kim Jong Uno set off another nuke in NoKo, causing a 3.1 earthquake. Freaking dumbass. There were stories about two more teachers arrested for seducing their students. One of them a female in Texas I think was arrested for the second time two months when she was found with a slightly older different boy. Some rich dude drained the blood from, scalped, and otherwise generally tortured his girlfriend. Oh, and The Trump is calling for a boycott of the NFL. OH, AND we still have the special session of the Oklahoma Legislature to look forward to early next week as the Morons on Lincoln Blvd attempt to close a gaping budget gap (gaping gap…see what I did there?) as they spend more money while wasting time on a special session that will end in failure. Okay, that’s it, I’m staying in the hidey hole. Oh, wait…there’s more…this just in! I’m NOT making this crap up! Another group of lunatic fringe Christians that call themselves the Unsealed claim that a great Biblical image will appear in the sky today! Yes, today! Ya’ll keep your eyes skyward, I’m back down the hidey hole. I’m sending Cousin Fred into town for prepper supplies. We’ll need bottled water, Sterno, Beany-Wienies, Vienna Sausages, Ramen Noodles, and liquor, lots of liquor. Just in case… That is all!  0400, The Compound, inside the storm cellar (aka, The Compound Bunker). Just came above ground to receive and download the overnight intelligence (no Wi-Fi in the hidey hole). There’s an entire scene going on above ground at that hour.
Cousin Fred is naked and sort of dancing around the front lawn. At least I thought he was dancing. Turns out, he keeps stepping on sandburs and leaping about (it’s a bumper crop this year). Apparently, it’s been his nightly ritual since the shipment of Bigfoot Juice arrived. At the stroke of midnight, he strips and slathers himself in the stuff and then cavorts around the yard hoping to draw Bigfoot from the pasture. So far, nothing. Earlier this week, I was down in Lawton for a couple of days meeting with some people. Pretty country down there…get this, they actually have trees. I’m not lying! And, there are rivers and creeks with actual water in them. Oh, and, lakes without dead bovines floating around (can be used as a lifesaving flotation device). And, get this, it’s still in Oklahoma! Go figure. Anyway, I was down there to meet with some people and the package of Bigfoot Juice arrived at The Compound. Cousin Fred and the Hairdressing Hydrologist Gigi took it upon themselves to develop the plan for drawing a genuine Bigfoot out of one of the cow pastures that surround us here. I returned home and heard about their plans. I commented that they were more likely to draw a Bigfoot down in Lawton where things appear more Bigfoot-like, hoping the two of them would run off to the south. No luck there. Speaking of the Hairdressing Hydrologist Gigi, I don’t see her anywhere. If she has any sense, she’s dead asleep at this hour in The Cab (Cabinet Saloon Replication) on the north lawn. The Wife is up on the roof (her favorite spot at night). She’s watching Cousin Fred leap about trying to loosen the grip of those darned sandburs and cackling her fool head off. Her usual bottle of Old Crow whiskey is one hand and an unfiltered Pall Mall cigarette dangles from her mouth. All in all, a typical 4 AM scene here at The Compound. I asked The Wife if she could see Nibiru approaching from the south yet. She muttered something and then flicked her lit cig at me, bouncing it off my forehead. That was followed by more cackling and a shout of, “Bombs away!” and more cackling. I took that as a no. That is, after all, why I’m down in The Compound Bunker. We are roughly 24 hours away from Nibiru slamming into the Earth over the South Pole. Even if that doesn’t happen, there’s the special session of the Oklahoma State Legislature to deal with on Monday. I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times…WE’RE ALL DOOMED! As many of you loyal readers probably already know, I get my overnight intelligence from a great source…dailymail.com. After downloading, I open the page and first have to work my way through all of the stories about teachers all over the country seducing their students. What the hell is going with these people? I bet McDonalds is adding hormones to the beef again. Seriously, there isn’t a day that goes by that you don’t read about some teacher having a fling with a student. But, I digress… Then I discover that NoKo looney toon Supreme Moron Kim Jong Uno is now threatening to detonate a hydrogen bomb in the ocean. And, you people wonder why I cower in a hidey hole? That announcement came on the heels of commentary made by Supreme Moron regarding his arch-nemesis, The Trump. The Trump goes to the UN the other day and lays into…well, just about everyone. Not necessarily a diplomatic move, certainly not very presidential, but we’ve come to expect that sort of thing from him. And, it was the only time he’s ever been able to get leaders from other countries to sit and listen to him rant. They’re just too polite to get up and walk out. But, I don’t what we expect, after all, who do we have to compare him with? Hmmmm? Richard Nixon? Nixon’s still dead, right? Kim Jong Uno responds to criticism and threats in the speech by declaring The Trump “mentally deranged”…well, hmmm, that’s not too far off the mark, I suppose. Kim ended his comment by calling The Trump a dotard. A dotard? I didn’t know what that was. I can honestly say that I’d never heard that word before. I had to go look it up. It’s an elderly person slipping into dementia. Wow…now there’s a carefully selected insult if I’ve heard one. Well played, Kim, well played…you freak! Okay, enough of the outside world. Back down into The Compound Bunker for me. I’ll reemerge at 1600 this afternoon to download the latest on Nibiru, special legislative sessions, and looney toon dictators. Or maybe not. There’s a certain amount of peace and quiet down below. That is all!  Good Thursday morning to you all. You know, it sucks (sometimes) being an Oklahoman. Seriously, it does.
Oh sure, we enjoy wide-open spaces, spectacular sunrises and sunsets, chicken-fried steak smothered in gravy, freshwater lakes, on and on. Of course, offsetting all that joy is the fact that we’re governed by a motley band of morons, perverts, pedophiles, and panderers who claim to know what is best for us. And, they’re led by Her Royal Highness Mary of Fallin who seems to be slowly losing her grip on just about everything. But, more on that in a second, because…WE”RE ALL GOING TO DIE (again). So, back in August (oh sweet, August, you seem such a distant, cherished memory), CCB reported on the rogue planet, Nibiru, hurtling (hurtling I’m tellin’ ya) toward Earth and our almost (heavy emphasis on almost) certain doom. Do you recall that post? No? You people need to read more. To recap, a wacky “researcher”-cum-numerologist-cum-obscure-Bible-verse-misinterpreter named David Meade predicted the arrival of Nibiru and somehow tied it to the total eclipse. Okay, that didn’t happen, but Numbers (as he’s known to his friends, of which there aren’t a lot) Meade promises that we’re all going to die this Saturday…for sure…he isn’t kidding like he was before. Meade says Nibiru is sneaking up on us from an oblique angle which is why scientists at NASA using Hubble can’t see anything. Stupid scientists, stupid Hubble. Oh, and it’s going to crash into the South Pole first…bet that’ll break up that ice shelf those stupid scientists are so worried about. A team of astronomers at NASA have issued public statements saying there is NO Nibiru…but, what the hell do they know. Oh sure, they point out that at this point, we’d be able to see it approaching Earth with our naked eyeballs. I’ll bet said astronomers just wanted to see if they could get away with using the word naked in a public statement. WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! But, hopefully it’ll be after the OU-Baylor game…just sayin’. One report has it that a reporter in Canada has been trying to reach Meade for comment, but his peeps told her that Numbers isn’t available for interviews until next week. Wait a second… So assuming that we all don’t die on Saturday…WE’RE NOT GOING TO DIE!...we have the next great cataclysm to deal with. The special session of the Oklahoma Freaking Legislature…you know, that bunch of outlaws in OKC, that state-run welfare society, that…well, you get the idea. The plan (ho ho, there’s a plan) here is that the legislature will come together to find solutions to fill a HUGE gap in the state budget, develop long-term solutions to avoid problems in the future, fix government inefficiencies (textbook definition of an oxymoron – for morons) and find $$$ to pay teachers. Sounds so easy right? Uh huh. Well, first of all, those of us in western Oklahoma will be without representation in the Senate following the resignation of Cosmic City’s born-and-raised. But, I’m certain the idiots on the House side will look after our interests. (cough) Does anyone know what it costs to keep the fools in OKC in OKC and working? I could look it up, but I’m just a lazy blogger. If you know, drop me a line. It’s gotta run into some serious cash. You know, honestly, I don’t know who would want that job (being a legislator), which is why we wind up with the dregs of Oklahoma society telling us how we should live. Fools. So there you have it, a bit of Thursday cheer. If Nibiru don’t get you, the Oklahoma Legislature likely will. Either way, WE’RE DOOMED…DOOMED I’M TELLING YOU! Here at The Compound, we’re planning to smoke ribs and pork butt, cook beans, make cole slaw, watch world disintegrate from the south or just have an amazing case of heartburn that will last into early next week. Stop by! That is all!  My name is Robin and Conrad Hilton spits in my coffee. Today’s post falls into the category of no good deed goes unpunished.
So, the Wife and I left The Compound for a few days to attend a wedding just outside of Denver. We decided to drive, which from The Compound is an 8-hour adventure, but I like long drives. After 8 hours in the vehicle and some truly marginal smoked BBQ along I-25, we arrive. I drop the Wife at the front door of the place and park. I come inside to find that we have no reservation. We’re supposed to be there for three nights, but they have nothing. And, there are no more rooms available. I should point out that we probably contributed to the confusion at check-in because we wound up making two reservations for that weekend…honestly, I don’t remember why. Actually, it was the Wife who made the reservations, I had nothing to do with it. That’s a key point here as you’ll see in just a second. The crime photo on the left (I’m the rather rotund fellow in the black t-shirt) shows me heading toward the lobby computer to pull up email and see if I can find a confirmation number. At that point, the person behind the counter couldn’t find ANY reservation and kept asking if we had a confirmation number. I had been on the road for 8 hours…all I wanted to do was lay down. Finally, she finds the reservation for that night and that night only. Curiously, and this is a friggin’ mystery. They find the reservation for the other two nights in MY NAME. I had nothing to do with making reservations. But, hey, we’re in so what do I care? Young woman at desk tells us that we’ll have to move rooms the next day for reasons that still make no sense to me other than they wanted to torture us…you’ll see what I mean in a second…for causing such a ripple in their staid, efficient lobby. The first room was great. Had been recently updated, it appears. The next morning (we had to be out of the room by 11AM) we stopped at the desk to get keys for the second room. That’s the crime scene photo on the right. We get moved into the “new” room on a lower floor. Much older room, not recently updated. The AC doesn’t seem to be working all that well. The curved shower rod sags so the stupid curtain doesn’t close properly. The toilet runs…blah blah blah. We were in a hurry so we dropped our stuff and headed out the door. After we’re back for a few days, I get an email from this hotel (turns out they’re part of the Hilton chain) asking me to fill out a brief survey of my stay. That brief survey took me like 30 minutes to complete, but hey I’m in. So I rated them overall a 7. I detailed the issues we encountered on checking in. Well, nearly a week passes and yesterday I receive an email from an assistant manager at the place. It’s lengthy and took her some time to write, but she addressed each and every of my complaints. Now, while that may be a mark of great customer service, frankly the tone of the thing was condescending (I know, because I am the emperor of condescending). She begins with an entirely too detailed rundown of our check-in experience to the point of quoting the Wife or I in dealing with the person at the desk. HINT: be careful what you say at the front desk of a Hilton Hotel, they’re recording your conversation. She even included the crime scene photos…why? Why would you do something like that? Did she think I would be pleased with receiving crime scene photos of myself when I hadn’t even bother to rob the place? Maybe she was sitting behind her desk thinking, “I’ll fix this a**hole troublemaker. I’ll include surveillance footage of him so he knows I can! Yeah, that’s it!” She pointed out that her desk clerk did nothing wrong and that it was our fault that the reservations were screwed up. I never took her desk clerk to task…my issue was with Hilton’s @!$king reservation system. She challenged my claim about the AC in the second room being bad. She sent someone to the room who reported that it was 68 degrees in there. Uh huh. Sister, you weren’t confined to that room all night with the AC blowing tepid air. She said there was no report made to the desk about the toilet. No I suppose not SINCE I DIDN’T MAKE ONE. She sent someone to look at the toilet who said it was fine. Uh huh. She did acknowledge that I was telling the truth about the shower rod. She was sorry for that and gave an extra 500 points to my Hilton Honors account. WTF? I DON’T HAVE A HILTON HONORS ACCOUNT! I didn’t ask for money back or anything else. You asked me to fill out a survey about our visit. This I did and you see what it gets me? The Spanish Inquisition, that’s what! Oh and crime scene photos suitable for framing or posting on a stupid blog. It just occurred to me. I’m headed to Lawton, OK this afternoon for an OMA board meeting (Oklahoma Museums Association). Guess where I’m staying? Go on, guess. Yep, Hilton freaking Garden in Lawton. I bet the Queen of Condescending has called ahead and instructed the staff there to spit into my coffee in the morning. Guess I’d better wear a disguise. I can’t wait to get a survey request from this stay! That is all!  Friends, as you well know, we at CCB almost never use space in this blog for product endorsements. We prefer to maintain a certain element of decorum and class. Product endorsements, in our humble opinion, simply reduce us to a bunch of hillbilly hucksters hawking housewares and hardware to other hillbillies. This is not the image we at CCB wish to portray. No, sir!
Oh, sure, back in November of 2015, we told you about the company in Hong Kong that was selling packaged horse sh*t. Those wacky Hong Kongers would ship via Fedex to anywhere in the world. Hmmmm…I wonder if they’re still in business? Sweet jumpin’ jeosophat! They are! They are still in business! Here’s the web site. Tell ‘em CCB sent you! Oh, and they have a newsletter! Isn’t that nice? You gotta love free enterprise from a semi-autonomous, quasi-commie province…you know? But, I digress…we’re here today to discuss the latest CCB product endorsement and it has nothing to do with poo…maybe. It seems there is a woman in North Carolina, whose state motto translated from the Latin is “Land of Homegrown Whiskey and Smoked Pulled Pork,” who, while working on a formula for bug repellant, accidentally discovered a Bigfoot attractant. Interesting…hmmmmmm. She calls her product…are you ready for this…Bigfoot Juice. And, in August of this year, it led to an actual Bigfoot sighting by her husband who is a member of a Bigfoot seeking group known as Bigfoot 911. It seems that our Concoctress had developed a homemade formula for bug spray. But her husband, we’ll call him Bigfoot Bwana, said it was too feminine for his olfactory taste and could she make it more manly smelling. She reportedly adjusted the mixture of ingredients and…voila...Bigfoot Juice! For a mere $7 per bottle, you too can attract a Bigfoot from a 1.5-mile radius. Said Concoctress makes that actual claim. She wouldn’t state that if it weren’t true…right? This isn’t said Concoctress’ first rodeo! She also made a doggie deodorant she calls, Stinky Dog Spray. You gotta love the way she gets right to the heart of things with her product names. There’s no Leaping Canine Parfume here…nope. Your damn dog stinks, you need spray. When questioned by a reporter from a Charlotte paper as to how she knows Bigfoot Juice works, our Concoctress responded, “How do you know it doesn’t?” Well put, Concoctress, well put. At that point, she pointed (point to pointed, see what I did there?) out the sighting by Bigfoot Bwana allegedly brought on by his wearing Bigfoot Juice. He even wrote an official report of the sighting, part of which reads, “…[found] a large bipedal animal covered in fur.” There you have it folks. These North Carolina Bigfoot hunters/seekers wouldn’t file an official report unless it was the real deal. KnowhutImean? Now, I know some of you are asking, “But, Mr. Robin, there ain’t no Bigfoots (Bigfeet?) in Oklahoma. Why are you wasting valuable blog space on Bigfoot Juice?” Good question, earnest reader. As you know, we at CCB have long been involved in the hunt for a legendary Bigfoot (Disappearus Bigfootus Erectus). There was that show we produced for the Viceland Channel, “Bigfoot: Naked and Untamed”, of which we’re still on the hook for another 12 episodes (we’re trying to talk some of the “Real” Housewives of Wherever to be participants). Plus, Cousin Fred and I are adventurers of a sort. We’re always looking for some new trouble to drop ourselves into. Being known as the Badger Bwana of the Southern Plains doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as Bigfoot Bwana. Am I right? So far, the only sightings of Bigfoot in the great state of Oklahoma have been down in the southeast part of the state. People down there are trying to get one of them to run for the state legislature, figuring they would be less idiotic than the morons we currently have serving us. Our plan (Cousin Fred and I) is to get some Bigfoot Juice, douse ourselves with it and see if we can’t attract a Bigfoot up this way! I know, genius right? We’re ordering today. We’ll report on the progress. Aren’t you glad you read this nonsense? That is all!  I know, I know. There’s a lot more to worry about in the world right now…a queue of killer storms in the Atlantic…naked burglars sleeping in your bed…lunatics with supposed access to nukes in North Korea…than even contemplating the staff in the White House feeling less than collegial. But, there we are.
So, at the urging of senior members of the GOP, The Trump decided to get rid of his chief of staff, Rinse Twice Previous, in favor of a retired Marine Corps General John Kelly. I think most of America breathed a sigh of relief at that move. The maniacal tweets in the middle of the night seemed to slow…don’t think The Trump has tweeted anything too crazy since Kelly came onboard. The infighting among the White House staff seemed to spin down some. Everything seemed to be going along okay. Course they had to get rid of alt-right madman (he’s angry) Steve Abandon (aka, two-shirts…he has a penchant for wearing two shirts at the same time…guess it cuts down on the need for a suitcase?). But then…a couple of weeks ago I saw a report that said General Kelly was getting tired of taking abuse from The Trump. I thought uh oh…here we go. Now, today, I read that Kelly’s deputy, Kristjen Nielsen, whom Kelly brought over to the White House with him from Homeland Security may be on the chopping block. Nielsen has a law background, but really made her bones as an expert in critical infrastructure protection…that’s government-speak for being good at getting to the bottom of who the bad guys are, what they’re up to, and then pointing the way to end their vocation. She’s not someone you’re going to mess with. She eats whiners and slackers for breakfast. But, now the wall-street punks on the White House staff AND cabinet are accusing her of anti-collegiality. Uh huh. What she’s been trying to do is instill some discipline in that bunch so they don’t appear to be the buffoons they currently appear to be. She is known for cancelling meetings with senior government officials if they’re late. Good for her. She sends out emails discussing internal policy and planning with the caveat that anyone caught releasing information will be summarily terminated. This is a no-nonsense, my way or the highway kind of person. Again, good for her. Only problem is, she isn’t playing ball The Trump way. I give it another few weeks and she’ll be gone. That will probably tip Kelly’s hand to resign. Then we’re back to late night tweets threatening Mitch McConnell (Mr. Tortoise) and Paul Ryan (did you known his wife is the daughter of David Boren?) with the wrath of the torch and pitchfork masses if they don’t off their collective a**es and do something…anything. That will of course lead to a press conference with Mr. Tortoise chuckling and in his best Col. Harlan Sanders voice say, “The President obviously doesn’t know how things work in Washington.” All the while, the GOP legislators standing behind Tort (as he’s known to his colleagues) nod thoughtfully and hope their constituents see them on national TV. Oh, oh…the other complain about deputy chief of staff Nielsen is that she is “squandering morale”…huh, WTF does that mean? There’s morale with that bunch left to squander? Their boss (The Trump) is probably the most divisive, demoralizing human being I’ve ever come across. Okay, well, anyway, remember you heard it here first. I give Nielsen until mid-October. Kelly soon thereafter. And, then The Trump resigning before Christmas. What a weird world. That is all!  <peeking out> It’s over, right? We’ve finally hit the traditional end of summer? Things seem to be slowing down a bit here at The Compound now that we’re past summer. The Clustering of Gigolos Music Festival has come and gone. We’re past The Daughter’s graduation from the George Mason School of Advanced Truck Driving. Nibiru missed the Earth. Lake Mountebank is still around, but it’s nice having a permanent water feature here. Subpoenas were served, Gigolos were tossed around, fires were extinguished, and my near-death experience with healthcare in America has passed. All seems to be back to normal here at The Compound. So, I finally crawl from beneath my covers this morning and check my newsfeed for the first time in weeks and what do you think I found? I mean, besides the tragic news of a queue of hurricanes slamming the Atlantic and Gulf. I find that Hillary Clinton is about to release a new book that essentially blames EVERYONE for her loss to The Trump. And, I mean everyone (except her grandchildren and herself). Here’s the list so far:
And, everyone will run out and buy the book to see if their name is in it. I had someone at the publisher run through the index…no mention of Cosmic City Blog anywhere. Why not? Note to self – need to work on really pissing people off. So, she’ll get rich(er) quick(er) and make the rounds of all the daytime and primetime talk shows for interviews of what a mess all of the above and others have made of her life. In truth, she only has to come to me. Hire me as a consultant. I could have told her where things went so wrong. The GOP made some brilliant plays this go around (unusual for that bunch). It was that hidden majority of angry, middle-class voters out there. The Republican Party has been courting these people for years…making occasional forays into misinformation…always pumping their message out to the masses through their stooge spokespeople (name one, name them all) until they finally brought it home. Now they’ve driven the stake into the ground and managed to get The Trump into office. How’s that working out for you, GOP? Been a rough road, hasn’t it? If you screw this up, the hidden majority will scurry back to the cover of their low-rent apartments and mobile homes and slightly above minimum wage jobs and rock you back on your heels for another eight years of a Dem White House. Well, it’s that, but for me, it was the email thing. I know, I’ve said it a million times, but I’ll say it again. Everyone who is granted access to classified material from the lowly PFC to the Secretary of State signs the same non-disclosure agreement. That agreement makes it very clear that you will go to jail for an extended period of time if you mishandle said material. Trust me when I tell you that if I had done what she did, I’d still be in prison. Probably blaming everyone but me for being there. And, just for the record. I predicted The Trump’s rise to power in September of 2015. Still, I have to admit I was surprised when I got up on the Wednesday morning after the election to find that he had in fact, gotten in. Eh well, so much for the blame game. I’m sure she’ll sell a ton of books before plotting her daughter’s rise to fame and power. The Clintons just won’t go away! I'm going back to bed! That is all! |
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