 Happy Thursday, you blog-starved peoples! I’m happy to report that Cousin Fred has emerged from The Cab into the light again. And, I’m happy to report he emerges a changed man. He has given up (for now) trying to find some surreptitious manner by which to contact Gigi, the hairdressing hydrologist. He was elated after watching the press conference on the tax code overhaul from the White House yesterday.
Cousin Fred is always watching WH press conferences in the hopes that he’ll catch a glimpse of Gigi as she pastes whatever that is atop The Trump’s skull back into place. That he’s elated about the news of tax reform is because he hasn’t filed a tax return in twelve years. He refers to that as living his life as our founding fathers intended, free of a 70,000 page tax code. Having just written a largish check to IRS, I was having trouble sharing the joy. Still I wanted to know what the newly announced “we’re gonna fix this, you’ll see…we’re not lying this time” tax reform had to do with him. I pointed out there was nothing in yesterday’s announcement about abolishing the IRS. Even if they did abolish the agency, Cousin Fred is likely grandfathered in (there’s an entire generation of returns to be filed after all) and someone will come after him for his few measly bucks I pointed out. There wasn’t anything substantive in that announcement yesterday. Nada. I loved the part where the bald-headed guy (we share the same barber) said that “we” will reveal the income levels that will fit their new 10-25-35 tax structure when “it’s appropriate to do so.” Pssst…yesterday’s press conference would have been a most appropriate time to do so, you idiot. Seriously, why announce something big if you don’t have details? Ooooooooh, right, this is a move by The Trump to fluff up his 100 days of (few) achievements. Substance is nothing, schmooze is everything…remember that people! On, the other hand, with regard to Cousin Fred, I’m not sure over the past 12 years that he’s even had income. He just moves around, mooching off relatives until they chase him off with a shotgun. It’s his job, it’s what he does. Speaking of which (bad segue, I know), I’ve decided that I missed my life’s true calling. I should have been a research scientist. Seriously. How do I know I was cut out for research science, you ask? Okay, I’ll tell you since you asked…and remember, you asked! But, I’ll shape the telling into a question (I’m clever that way). Friends, how do you tell that it’s a slow news day? Yesterday obviously was. I mean sure you had the no-news news announcement from the WH about tax reforms (details, we need details you dolts), but that was it. Oh, there was news that North Korea’s army was carrying fake weapons and wearing non-designer sunglasses in a parade. Slow news days mean that news editors get to dig into the pile of crap (pardon my future pun) on their desks and publish some article so inane that even savvy media guys like me scratch their heads and say, “Huh?” I saw a piece go by on the Daily Mail website yesterday that some research scientists were paid to study mammal poop habits and they made astounding findings. Clinch your buttocks together for this one folks…it’s gonna be, well scientific. So, this bunch of research scientists (see, it even sounds cool saying that) descended upon the zoo in Atlanta (as in Georgia) with the specific purpose of studying the poop habits of mammals at the zoo. Of course, the other purpose was to burn through the grant money they had received. Among their findings…get this…all mammals, including humans (suppose people go to the zoo in Atlanta to relieve themselves on the sidewalks?) take an average of 12 seconds to do their daily doody. The researchers figure it’s a survival thing. The longer you’re engaged in that activity, the more likely it is that a predator will consume you – they follow the smell…yeesh. Of course, this doesn’t explain why my creepy Uncle Carl can stay in the bathroom for nearly an hour at a time. In an hour, you could sing the first two acts (movements) of La Traviata. They call their study…ready for this? They call it the “Hydrodynamics of Defecation.” Seriously, I can’t make up stuff like that! Obviously, you have to have some completely serious sounding title for your study to get the grant money. The team’s report will be published in the research science journal, Soft Matter – again I can’t possibly, in a million years, make that up! The head research scientist said, and I swear this is a quote, “…the physics of fecal discharge remain poorly understood…” No sh*t, Sherlock (nyuk nyuk). Let’s keep it that way. Cousin Fred will accompany me to the Twister Alley Film Festival kick-off reception tonight at the Josey Wales Center for Cultural Chaos. He’s anxious to meet up with some “Hollywood types” to see if we can get traction on a second season for our reality show, “Bigfoot: Naked and Untamed.” That is all! Comments are closed.
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