The Trump gets the biggest endorsement of his campaign and Robin changes his name to Pierre.6/1/2016
![]() It’s June 1, people and you know what that means? Cousin Fred and I are on the road again. This time we’re headed to Los Angeles where Southern Living magazine has hired us to cover the California primaries. We got into Seligman, AZ in the wee hours of Tuesday. Cousin Fred said he just couldn’t go any further. Seligman is the birthplace of Route 66…or so they claim. I do know one thing, it’s in the middle of freakin’ nowhere. We’re in a room at the Lazy Ace Ranch and Motor Court. The room is creepily what you would expect at a place that hasn’t been touched, décor-wise, since, I don’t know…the mid-50’s. Everything is plastic and Formica. But it at least smells clean…I guess that what the chemical smell is…yeah, that’s it clean. Cousin Fred is anxious to get to L.A., where he’s hoping he’ll have another shot at Gigi, The Trump’s hairdresser and who by all appearances is a wizard in whipping something atop her boss’ head from well, who knows what. The magazine doesn’t want us in L.A. and on the payroll until later today. We’re only about seven hours out from here in Seligman. We’ll move out this morning and check into our luxury suite later this afternoon. We’re staying at the Beverly Hilton, which is kind of a ways from the hotels around the convention center downtown where I’m sure the candidates will be hosting their victory parties. Eh, the distance gives us an excuse to watch the activity on television from the poolside bar while sipping martinis. Kind of schmooze with a selfie-stick. Of course, we’ll have a minder along from the magazine. We’ve still not met this person. Hopefully, he or she won’t be too much of a distraction or roadblock…Cousin Fred and I will be there to “work” after all. And, things are shaping up to be a Trump-tastic event in L.A. Have you noticed how when the news cycle slows a bit and the media begins to cover real news suddenly The Trump is thrust back into the spotlight? Seriously, have you noticed? Take yesterday for example when there was a much ballyhooed press event in New York wherein The Trump was supposedly going to answer questions about his supposed donations to veterans’ organizations. Almost immediately it turned into a media-bashing event on live television…the cameras were already on so they stayed on. CNN spent the better part of their broadcast day discussing being bashed by The Trump. They played right into his hands. He couldn’t possibly have paid for that kind of coverage. Then later in the day there was the announcement that the rotund North Korean despot with a weird haircut Kim Il Pun (or whatever) was endorsing The Trump. Nice… You know you’ve arrived when lunatic despot thugs put their stamp of approval on you. Well, I guess they do have bad hair in common. Oh, and then we learn that cry-baby talk show host Glenn Beck, who now only appears on satellite radio made some indirect, very veiled threat encouraging a “patriot” to take down The Trump after he’s in office. SiriusXM pulled his show from the air. Now he really has something to cry about. Still more publicity for The Trump. And, let’s see, then down in Dallas, someone hacked one of those electronic road signs to read “Trump is a shape-shifting lizard”…clever, but not acerbic enough, me thinks. This is why every electronic road sign hacker needs a sarcastic smart-ass accomplice to feed them a line. Although, come to think of it, I guess The Trump is a shape-shifting lizard. On the Dems side, we’re getting nothing. The Queen of the Unindicted has all but disappeared. She did a phone interview on CNN yesterday where, when pressed by part-time cartoonist Jake Tapper, she promised that she would do a press conference real soon. But, she isn’t in California…where the hell is she? In the meantime, The Curmudgeon is out beating the vineyards in California. I even saw something go by where he responded to a question by saying that he would consider being Hillary’s running mate if she asked nicely, or words to that effect. If that happens, I fear we’re doomed. And, maybe we are anyway. Guess it’s time for Plan B...wherein I move to Uzbekistan and take up trade as a French pimp. Call me, Pierre. Comments are closed.
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