How To Replace Democracy – Choose Your Price

Stanko & Tibor - The Price of Democracy


How To Replace Democracy – Choose Your Price

There was a report recently stating that if automobile makers want to reduce the weight of their vehicles, they will have to use more plastic parts because they are lighter. What is a key ingredient used to make plastic? Petroleum, the main ingredient in gasoline. So to reduce the amount of fuel vehicles use, they need to use parts made from the stuff needed to make gasoline. There is a price to pay for progress. Ironic. Or is that coincidental? I don’t know. English isn’t my mother tongue.

The same irony is valid when applied to democracy. To make it more useful, relevant and effective, you need more people to come out and vote. But participation rates in democracies have been going down for lots of reasons that I won’t speculate on here, largely, because I will employ far more profanity than usual, and after all, profanity should be reserved for use in the home, classrooms and inside your motor vehicle, where it’s best applied.

Furthermore, of those who come out to vote, most probably aren’t informed on all the issues and vote with their hearts and not their heads. Or they vote against someone or something rather than voting for someone or some idea. We can identify what and who we dislike more easily that what or who we like. Yet, if they knew the price of not voting, or voting with their hearts, maybe they’d reconsider. Or maybe not.

Solution: Price Democracy

Let’s apply some speculative and questionable pricing theory. Democracy needs to be priced properly for it to have relevance and value. You see, when you put a price on something suddenly you give it value you can calculate. Can you put a price on free speech or freedom? Well, it’s hard, but I’d say it’s worth at least $100, before taxes. Maybe a little more if I can print profanity-laced t-shirts and hand them out randomly. But I digress.

Conversely democracy could be priced in an inverse sense — meaning, if you don’t go out and vote, it’ll cost you some real cash. Like $20. OK, maybe that’s too low. Make it $30. But negative incentives tend not to work. Even if you got a tax break for voting in municipal, state or national elections, most people would skip it anyway because the outcome would suck anyway.

Bundling Democracy at the Right Price

What if democracy and voting came in a packaged bundle?  Much like mobile phones and cable TV subscriptions, if you could sign up for the democracy bundle that meets your budget and needs, you maybe be encouraged to vote.

Sure, right now, I get the right to free speech, and other services like health care, fire and police protection and sanitation. But what if I could get a free movie every month along with my right to vote? Or if I pay more, I could get 5 or more votes for any given election.

I bet if voting was tied to having your Internet connection cut or maintained, people would come out in droves to vote. Vote or we’ll cut off your Internet. That would scare the piss out everyone. On the other hand, if you could get increased upload/download speeds on your Internet connection if you went out an voted, that might be a good incentive. Or free dope.

Discount Democracy

Or better yet, you get a discount on your cable/TV/internet/mobile phone bill for each vote you make AND you get to kick someone at the cable/TV/internet/mobile company where you’re subscribed right in the privates for the crappy customer service and time wasted on hold when you need help with your erroneous and unjustly exorbitant bill.

What about loyalty voting points if you vote for one party every election? You’d get a loyalty card that could trade for privileges like a plane ticket to a warm vacation resort, or your street gets paved before the others in your neighbourhood. That happens now anyway  in a lot of places, but you have to be intimately linked to organized crime, and that means having to fill in my calendar with even more appointments at brothels and cheap motels than usual, and I’m too busy for that.

And if all else fails, we move to a democracy pricing model based on the single model that has shown itself to be more reliable and accurate than any other since academics and computational models became all the rage: We guesstimate the price like on the The Price Is Right.

Insincerely friendly,
Jean-Baptiste Colbert Druker of NDG

Good Riddance 2016 – Happy 2017

Good Riddance and Welcome

Well the people who follow the Gregorian calendar can now officially say ‘good riddance to 2016’ — especially given that death has been  a big theme this past year. (If you follow the Chinese, Zoroastrian, Muslim, Jewish, Japanese Imperial or Mayan calendars, it was still a pretty shockingly crappy year from some perspectives.)

And I am not counting the long list of celebrities who shuffled off their moral coil, and there were many. Influential too, in all manner of subjects and areas of expertise.

However, we should not forget those who weren’t famous or successful who were killed, murdered or just plain suffered to death in just about every part of the world. Don’t forget, they are just as much a part of life as those n Hollywood or elsewhere. I know, the media doesn’t want us to focus on that so much, because it doesn’t get ratings. But try not to forget.

I wonder if there is a death counter to tally up all the people who willfully or less than willfully said good riddance to this mortal life. That would be a tough job for any computer, or even the best accountant, no matter how good the software. Do humans do a global death census? Maybe we should, but counting the dead is hard because they tend not speak up when asked.

2017 Has To be Better, Right?

2017 —  Will it get better? That is the question on so many peoples’ lips. If you are an optimist –gullible, on medication or otherwise — it can only get better. After Donald Trump‘s election, and countless other terrorist attacks in the name of some ‘benevolent’ god, life can only move toward the positive, depending on your point of view, of course.

For the bitter pessimists among us, we have to suffer through four years of Donald Trump and the inevitable talk shows that will tear him to shreds. We’re all losers here. There is still Putin, terrorists, and worst of all, Mariah Carey is making a comeback. Some in the media are asking, if she’s making a comeback, why can’t a benevolent god from ANY religion give her tongue gout?

Good Riddance Again?

The human memory is conditioned to blot out bad experiences (like murder, torture, losing money at gambling, or an overdone steak). We tend to remember the things that gave us joy and euphoria. Obviously that’s different for different people. But if we just learned to remember the awful stuff a little more often, maybe we wouldn’t fall into the same bad habits like betting on democracy, or your favorite sports team, or the mafia to get you out of a sticky situation.

My recommendation for the future is simple: Eat what you like, spend time with those who make you happy, quit your job if you hate it, and watch plenty of animated TV – way better than reality.

Faithfully without faith,

Nostradamned Ignorantus Biggus Druker


How To Replace Democracy – TwitFace

 

Stanko & Tibor - How To Replace Democracy TwitFace

Date: December, snowy, and bathed in the glow of a computer monitor. Still trying to find a replacement for democracy that doesn't involve fascists. Or social media.

Democracy: It’s Easier Than Flossing

For some time there was a theory that flossing regularly could somehow help deter heart attacks. That theory has been disproven and rightfully so. Anything having to do with flossing is inherently evil, largely because no one I know, except dentists, the children of dentists, oral hygienists and psycho-killers, has ever been for a dental checkup and heard from said oral care specialist “your flossing habits are excellent!” We always get the drill of guilt for not having flossed either sufficiently or at all. And then a weather front of shame rolls in.

How does flossing in any, way, shape or form relate to my valiant search for something to replace democracy yet does not involve secret police, fascism, communism, or a form thereof? It’s a stretch, I admit, but I had a lot of coffee and sugar this morning so I think I can make this work.

Practice Makes Imperfect

Like so many things in life, the more you do something, usually the easier it gets. For example, kissing, thieving, knitting a wool hat, or hammering a nail. Same goes for flossing.

Your first attempt usually involves a valiant and often violent struggle with the roll of dental floss, or if you use one of those new fangled flossing implements, repeatedly stabbing your inner cheek walls or upper palette to the point where the pain-induced tear that runs down your eye winds up in your mouth, mere seconds after you’ve rattled off a series of profanities best suited for a confession box. (See National Lampoon’s That’s Not Funny, That’s Sick)

But after a while, you get it, you know how to do it, and it becomes almost second nature if you practice a bit. Sure, you might not be perfect, but you know what to do come floss-time. Same goes — or should go — for democracy.

Show Up, Choose, Leave

The democratic process is pretty simple, and depending on where you live and under what conditions, you usually have to practice the skill (and art) of choosing a candidate (or defacing the ballot) maybe every couple of years. So you do get some practice.

Not unlike the flossing described above, you do have to suffer a bit before you get to vote. There are course the interminable election campaigns, which are not unlike the fear one experiences prior to going to the dentist’s, or better yet, these campaigns may be more akin to actually being in the dentist’s chair just before the gum-wrecking, tooth-extracting, needle-inserting, pain-enhancing physician and assistant enter the room to tell you several thousand dollars of expensive and painful fixes are required, and to take out a loan to cover the costs.

Election campaigns are horrendous, wasteful, vainglorious affairs but, like flossing, they are part of the procedure and you can become numb to them with enough exposure. That could be bad if you experience blood loss living through either the flossing or the election campaign. But at the same time, its not all that hard to do your democratic duty. It takes 3 simple steps: Show up, choose, and then leave.

But Am I Qualified?

This begs the question — if, in a democracy, anyone eligible can vote, are they really qualified to vote? Many have suggested the same holds true for making and rearing a child. Too many are eligible and too few are qualified, yet we let that happen all the time (until that kind Mr. Trump spikes our drinking water with birth control pills). But I digress.

We test people who want to drive a car to see if they are competent — and again, too many are eligible and too few are qualified, even if they didn’t sleep with and/or bribe the driving instructor. Yet, 22-chromosed morons and idiots show up to take their driver’s test, choose some answers, spin around a parking lot and leave with a permit for motorized mayhem in their sweaty, greasy, unwashed, little hands.

Should we have means testing to determine who is qualified to vote? Who would decide this? (Answer: me, and me alone) How would this even be enforced? (Answer: lots of robots and a ton of domestic spying). If we tested for intelligence, would it be based on math? science? or a canonical knowledge of Star Wars and Bugs Bunny? (Answer: I’m leaning towards Bugs Bunny)

So much to contemplate, yet it’s so perilously close to dinner. And food wins every time over deep, rational thought.

With a warm heart and a glaring bald spot,

Mephistopheles “Bringer Noxious Emissions” Druker

How To Replace Democracy

Stanko & Tibor - Gapplesoft & Democracy

Dateline: Early December. Wet weather lurks outside my door, while inside, it's getting mighty steamy. I left the shower running and the door open. I am trying to wash off the residue of democracy.

How To Replace Democracy

Does it sound like this post is anti-democratic? Do you think it will spiral into a rant about the failings of our democracy, where your fellow citizens, rich and poor, smart and dumb, well educated and not well educated (note to reader: being educated doesn’t mean you’re smart – look at that interracial-loving, open-minded, all-inclusive Bannon fellow), smelly and perfumed, hairy and non-hairy, are given the freedom and privilege to choose their leaders, no matter how well or poorly they are informed (I’m looking at you Facebook)?

It’s kind of ironic that some of the people who don’t like freedom of speech an despise the press, and are skilled at starting race wars, somehow got elected to powerful positions in the US of A. Especially that tanned, manicured and coiffed hairball, Mr. President Elect. He’d sue you nine ways from Sunday for calling him a short-fingered vulgarian (great blog). And his staff would have you water-boarded, electrocuted and deported just for saying he’s a nut bar. But that is the irony, or better yet, the sick coincidence of democracy.

So, What Are Our Options?

Having just reviewed Ancient Greek social and power structures and the democratic process they applied (I was helping my kid with her homework), it seemed like a pretty good idea at the time, but the Greeks kind of had segregated democracy.

If you were a natural citizen, male over the age of 18 and had done your military service, you could vote. Not the women, though. That would have been too progressive for a warrior-based society that was probably hairier and smellier than an Albanian metal worker’s armpit at the end of his shift. There were also other citizens who had to buy their way into voting. And of course there were the slaves and they had no right to vote ever.

Seems like a good idea, but not everyone is happy with it.

So what are the options for replacing democracy?

Pick From 5 Hardships

  • Dictatorship/Fascism – Not as good as the marketing department makes it sound. Sure, the rallies are fun, but there are silly uniforms, secret police and usually some form of ostracization by the world community, which makes it hard to get Tom Jones to come to your country to sing at your leader’s wedding.
  • Communism – Usually results in bad haircuts, crappy clothing options, terrible shopping hours, and you’re made fun of by the rest of the global community, including the Chinese, for drab clothing.
  • Anarchy – Seems appealing at first, especially where inflexible work hours are concerned, but it makes getting an Uber really difficult because the driver is probably going to robbed or crashed into by some post-apocalyptic vehicle driven by a person with (see a trend here) a bad haircut. And good luck try booking an appointment to get a driver’s licence.
  • Monarchy/Oligarchy – See “Dictatorship”, subtract the global ostracization and add high fashion, probably some inbreeding and a lot of castles and oodles of snobbery based solely on being part of the “lucky sperm club.” Usually good for some tourism if it’s a monarchy (see England), and great for commercial thuggery if it’s an oligarchy (see Eastern Europe).
  • Domination by aliens – If they don’t do anal probes, enslave us or eat us for breakfast, this may be the most acceptable alternative to democracy. Would certainly spare us having to deal with the humans who call at all hours from call centers asking us if we’d like to pay more for cable and phone service.

So as we can see, all of the above suck just as badly as democracy, except with the current form of democracy in practice in some parts of the globe, chances are you can buy your way into power more easily, and your vote might count if it’s limited to your house.

With that in mind, I will expound at length in my next post about how and why warm sheep’s cheese is superior to most elected and appointed officials, and way better than a kick in the private parts with a steel boot.

Philosophically spent, and morally bent,

Aristotle “The Arachnid” Druker

New & Improved: Environmentally Friendly Torture Items!

Stanko & Tibor - Environmentally Sound Torture


Dateline: Fall, the season's a-changing', the leaves are a-fallin', the basement is chilly but cozy. However, I ate too much garlic. Many will be olfactorily assaulted. Many will suffer.

Torture Takes Its Cue From Nature

In color theory, there is something called the color wheel. In it you can see all the colors of the spectrum, and see which color is another’s opposite. So if you want to know, the opposite of green is red. Which is fitting for what lies outside my door. Streets full of trees all turning from green to red. Nature is telling us “get ready for the torture of winter.”

And torture takes many forms. Not just plummeting temperatures, icy roads and lazy, corrupt, shiftless city workers and oceans of rust-inducing salt. Sometimes it takes the form of an interminable US election between the female twin of The Joker and humanity’s version of a hairy ass pimple with a perma-tan. I’ll take The Joker any day of the week, because the ass pimple is a huge discomfort, is laden with pus and hangs around far longer than you want.

Sure, it’s close to being over, this “rigged” election, but it can’t come soon enough. I have reverted to watching even more animated shows and subjecting myself to self-torture through the regular ingestion of baked goods that probably have greater petroleum content than flour or sugar. Those are my favorite.

Regardless of how this election turns out, we can all agree on one thing: And that’s nothing. Which makes for lots of fodder for more comics to come your way when I have had insufficient sleep and a wholly imbalanced diet, low of fruit and high in hot dogs and fries.

Either way, it’s time for bed, for dreams of things greater, for days of sun and just enough snow for me to flee to the ski hills.

Sheepishly sleepless,

Master of Martial Arts, Field Marshal Marshall McLuhan Druker

The Burkini Conundrum & Other Garbage

Stanko & Tibor - The Burkini Conundrum

Dateline: Late, late, late summer, in a dimly lit basement -  and a stinky, humid one at that. Reason enough to go to bed early.

The Burkini Conundrum (Not Really)

Very recently, there was a local Pokemon Go gathering and barely sentient people were milling around a public spot, blindly moving about like a school of geeky loser fish, in order to grab imaginary, virtual objects using a smart phone. No one was speaking, people were just staring at their screens. I am told there was fair bit of drool too.

What’s the message here? It would seem that reality sucks so bad, only some kind of virtual reality game with ZERO meaning for the greater good is the next best replacement for reality. And when you think about it, creating distractions that have nothing to do with reality is deeply embedded in human nature. It’s why we built the Coliseum, casinos, brothels, movie theatres, the Internet or why heroin and cannabis are still such popular drugs, and why the Mayans used cocaine. Day-to-day drudgery.

Unintelligent Design

So now we focus on The Burkini as a distraction, because the Olympics were too boring. Not enough Zika? Way too much Ryan Lochte? Have our collective mood-altering prescriptions run out? We need to argue over something that really isn’t worth it?

I’m starting to think the human brain is a miracle of Unintelligent Design. Let’s explore the following suppository. Not wait. That’s gross. Supposition, yeah that’s it. Shut up and read on.

I dare you to explain (intelligently) how any of the following could exist if there was actually intelligent design:

  • I have a spine like a melted accordion
  • I get pimples from eating ONE onion ring, which is highly unjust
  • When it’s warm outside my privates stick to my skin and I’m therefore uncomfortable for 3 months a year
  • IKEA gets away with selling crap furniture at exorbitant prices
  • People are STILL opposed to vaccinations
  • Why hasn’t Gwyneth Paltrow been imprisoned for criminally excessive stupidity
  • We humans commit genocide semi-regularly
  • Donald Drumpf
  • The burkini, and the banning thereof

None. None Blacker

And why are there black burkinis? Like it isn’t hot enough at the beach as it is that you need to suffocate the woman not just emotionally but physically, too? Why doesn’t it come with a built-in head shade? Or a heat expulsion flap? That is not intelligent design.

And if intelligent design actually existed, then why did a bunch of French bureaucrats decide to take time to draft legislation to ban it when maybe they could have spent the time, I don’t know, giving food to the poor? Or making cheese and wine free for a month? I think unintelligent design is the accurate descriptor.

Wisdom of the Masses

It’s like everyone is being guided by this invisible force of collective stupidity. Like a Simpsons episode. There could be a more complex, biological reason too, although the Royal Society for Semi-Legitimate Science and Bellybutton Gazing refuses to hear me out.

Maybe when humans are in close proximity to each other, like at an election rally, a night club, a public swimming pool, a sporting event, or in bed, our chromosomes cancel each other out if there’s an even number and we’re reduced to blubbering idiots. Or if there’s an odd number of chromosomes, the dominant chromosome with the lowest IQ wins and guides the pack. Like at an Australian Rules football match. Or a gathering of religious snake-handlers.

So where does this leave us? With no resolution for the burkini conundrum, nor anything of merit worth reading. But if you did take the time to read this, you have wasted a full 2 minutes of your time that won’t ever be returned, and I have fished through your wallets while you weren’t looking. Lots of unused condoms in there.

Cogitatively coagulated,

Isosceles of Sucrose

Monsters Are Everywhere

Stanko & Tibor - Monsters

Dateline: A basement, in a metropolis, middle of summer, hot humid, sticky, smelly, and that's just my underwear. I am kidding, of course. About the metropolis part.

Monsters Come In Different Forms

If you actually managed to drag yourself from your booze-soaked, carbohydrate-laced stupor and read the 8 magically drawn and skilfully penned panels containing not a single reference to Brexit, Donald Trump, acts of terrorism, the US election farce, chances are you noticed the dialog was a little weak and in no way related to the most recent events.

Then you probably thought: What an irresponsible monster of a comic-drawing human he is! He cares not a whit (nor does he have a wit) for the burning issues flooding our media, nor does he enlighten us with his commentary or grossly questionable wisdom. Monster!

Well, you’re right that I can be a monster, but not the way you think. I am more of a morning monster, when I haven’t had coffee.

Monsters Everywhere

There are monsters all around us. In the media (do we really need more coverage of the Republican and Democratic national conventions? It’s painful watching hoards of sycophantic, rabid, mental patients — with hats. A convention hall full of monsters filled with ego, piss and vinegar. And no doubt beer and hookers and the Republican convention. I am sure it was light beer,  hummus with crudités and cocaine at the Democrat shindig. Come on, there were Hollywood types there.

Monsters in government? Well of course. You see what’s happening in Turkey? A coup that was relatively bloodless? What a sham. Why else does anyone watch military coups if not for the blood and terror? No wait, I am confusing that with Game Of Thrones.

But there are monsters even in places you wouldn’t think: The bathroom!

Leggy Monsters

So, the other morning, pre-coffee, I was standing in the shower when all of a sudden, some kind of monster, a filthy, creepy-crawly  with more hairy legs than a two Southern European soccer teams combined, ran across the base of the shower — mere centimeters (or inches if you prefer, you troglodytic Imperial monsters) from my toes.

It was the stuff of nightmares. You couldn’t tell what the head or the tail was, it swivelled and dashed across the floor of what is supposed to be a clean surface meant to wash away the physical sins I engage in (if wiping my filth and Oreo-covered fingers on my pants counts).

How something so tiny yet horrifying could affect me more deeply and traumatically than the Democrats, the Republicans, a military coup combined is something to behold. What does it all mean? What kind of lessons can I derive from this? Here are some:

  1. I’m a colossal coward
  2. I’m easily disassociating from reality and network news — without meds
  3. I should cut down on the Oreos
  4. I am really reaching for material to write about

Having said that, and given that something animated and totally unrelated to today’s events is about to start on TV, it’s time I bid you fans adieu!

I am off to battle the sleep monsters. They will win.

Drowsily dull,

Brutus son of Gordus the Impatient

The Plan To Save America

The Plan to Save America by Stanko & Tibor

Dateline: A June eve, colder than late October, my TV is now tuned to animation so I can ignore reality.

The ECT Plan

Another mass shooting, another terrorist attack, another reason there should be widespread, reckless, rampant use of electro-shock therapy.

Shock therapy is a grossly misunderstood and maligned tool for social equilibrium and lesson-imparting. Sadly, electro convulsive therapy (ECT), or ‘buzzing the brain goo” to the layman, has been given a bad rap in movies and the press as a way to “solve” difficult psychological issues such as aggravated fruit fondling, underground gerbil hurling competitions, spouse nagging and as a crowd control method at pop music concerts riddled with hormone-laden youth.

I say ECT could be used to settle the upcoming American election. Why you ask? Of course you’re not asking, because no one is reading this rant, except for the 4 incarcerated inmates at the Super Max Prison for Wayward Yoga Teachers. The “downward dog” takes on new meaning in that joint. But I digress.

ECT for You and Me

Let’s face it. Anyone who willingly votes for Donald J. Trump, be they male or female, young or old, rich or poor, tall or short, fat or slim, has essentially shown themselves to be in need of ECT-realignment of the cranial matter. I don’t mean it to be a punishment either. It’s required to restore some form of mental calm and synaptic equilibrium that is apparently sorely lacking in the country that somehow is responsible for the “infomercial”, yet gave us such gems as rock ’n roll and the blues.

Now before you say “you’re a lefty pink loving Hilary fan” — I say thee nay. I also think all her supporters should be subject to group ECT, preferably in an ankle-deep pool with 5000 piranha. They too are a little too fervent, especially those Bernie booster contingent whose idealism and dedication to the cause of fairness make my stomach turn and a little bit of acid reflux happens. Too much strident do-gooderism before breakfast is a little like having only dry whole wheat toast with low fat yogurt for breakfast — every day. And we know where that hellish scenario leads to: people wearing Birkenstocks with black socks, a definite sign of the apocalypse. The only way that is rectified is double ECT doses.

Fixing Democracy

So where does that leave us? Give up on democracy? Well, not at the municipal level. But at the federal level, I should be made benevolent leader for about 6 months with a team of Hawaiian surfer maidens as my staff, ready to zap anyone with an ECT if they so much as question my desire for beef or pork ribs.

Here’s my plan to fix everything:

  1. Ensure that all people across the country have unlimited bagels and chocolate and cinnamon danish to eat ever day. And we’d even make allowances for gluten-free danish until we could find an island to move the gluten-intolerant to. Not Hawaii. That’s for me.
  2. We move the US armed forces, every last one of them, to the Britain where they take over the island and stop the British from telling everyone what’s “proper spelling” and remove all the journalists and tabloid owners that make a living reporting off the Royal Family and place them all on the St. Kilda Island in the Outer Hebrides. Win-win for all of humanity.
  3. While everyone is still groggy from the post-ECT zap, we move everyone who wants to own a gun or hunts with a bow and arrow to the southern half of the country. Everyone who wants gun control and government mandated hugging and kisses we move them to the northern half. Each group gets access to the west and east coasts on weekends. Then we have the millions of illegal Mexican immigrants dig a deep trench about 100 miles wide, spanning from east to west, fill it with water and man-eating alligators and sea mines, so no one has any great desire to cross.

I figure the northern lefties will all hug and sing Kumbaya while the folks in the south will fire off their arms in sheer joy like it’s an Afghani wedding.

My guess is the people in the south will quickly kill each other because heat makes you do stupid things (see Middle East for reference), thus thinning the population, while the people in the north will nag each other to death with political correctness and too much health food and regulation, thus thinning their population, too.

When both sides of the divide are severely weakened after too much fried food in the south and too much organic buffalo cheese in the north, then we put them back together, hold an election and see if they have learned anything.

Chances are they won’t have learned a thing, but it would be a great social experiment. Especially since I don’t live there.

Oh and we lock Hilary and Donald in a closet, both naked, for 48 hours and see who comes out alive, because I don’t want to do any more comics about this buffoon. I need new material.

There. Problem solved.

Disgustingly cookie-filled and partially sane,

Jonah Buzzer Boy Druker

Mr. President, Meet Mr. Crazy

Stank & Tibor - Mr. President

Dateline: May on a nice evening. Some place where the warden can't get me.

President Secret Agent

I would make a terrible secret agent, let a lone a president of a country. Let me explain. I spend too much time online and using social media, so I am easily traced, not a good spy quality to have. Furthermore, I hate sea food. It hates me too. If you’ve ever seen a spy thriller, there is often something happening down at the docks where it smells like fish — disgusting. I’d gag and complain. Or it takes place at some sunny seaside resort where the macho protagonist is eating a shrimp cocktail. The excludes me as my gout would explode after a few bites. How many secret agents do you know have to take anti-gout medication? Probably none.

I can’t imagine me doing one of those Mission Impossible slide-down-the-heat-pressure-sensitive-chamber on a wireline. I’d get dizzy and vomit, thus setting off the anti-vomit alarms, the dogs would come running, and I’m scared of them as it is, and I would be shot on site.

Worse, if I were merely threatened with torture, I’d spill the beans without hesitation, provide diagrams, videos and the credit card numbers of the other agents. I’d even drive the enemy to their houses if it meant avoiding a car battery to the testicular area.

To top it off, I have allergies galore. If I were a secret agent and I had to put up with one of the Bond villains petting his puffy, hairy cat, I’d either be wheezing and sneezing my head off or worse, I’d be all dopey from the antihistamines I’d have to pump into my blood stream to negate that evil cat. They’d catch me in a second.

So I decided not to pursue that career knowing I don’t have the “right stuff” to become a secret agent.

Not the Right Stuff

Along the same line of thought, I think Donnie Trump really doesn’t have the right stuff to become president. And not because he’s a colossal jerk-bully-ego maniac. I’d argue those qualities are highly useful for being the leader of the 32nd most indebted nation on earth. It takes some ego and bravado and general jerkiness to tell other nations what they are doing wrong while yours steadily increases its purchase of weapons after each mass school shooting where defenceless children are involved.

Also certainly not because he’s a womanizer, because there has barely been a two-term president in the past 100 years who wasn’t. Roosevelt, Kennedy, Clinton (all free-loving Democrats, I might add), and I am sure I am missing some of the older ones. Seems to be a must-have on the curriculum vitae. But I digress.

No, it’s most likely that Donnie the Dingdong Trump doesn’t have all his cookies baked, metaphorically speaking. Either too much hair dye has seeped into his brain or a recessive gene kicked in a while ago.

He is an effective sociopath, heaping blame on others when he screws up (Trump Steaks anyone?). He says whatever comes to his mind. Which is usually is a sign of advanced craziness. (See: North Korean leaders for reference) That “quality” might be fun on a TV reality show or at a dinner party where there is free shrimp and booze, but not so much in delicate political situations.

Chinese Food

Somehow I think if he does become, dare I say, the President of the US of A, I can foresee some bad feces happening. Like at a State dinner with the Chinese prime minister. I’ll bet you he’d lean over to the Prime Minister’s wife and say something like “How come all you Asian women have small breasts?” Or something like “I nailed an Asian broad once – I was not impressed. I thought you guys invited the Kama Sutra.”

No doubt come dessert time, he’d make a crack about fortune cookies and pull the corners of his eyes to make them more “Asian” shall we say. Then we’d have a real shot at World War III. Heaven only knows what he’d say if he were visiting Russia.

Half a Brain

How can a man who clearly lacks mental stability, a social filter, and a has a greater sense of self-worth than his own misrepresented wealth be able to handle the responsibilities of the President of the USA?

It must be because of his mastery of the unispheric brain. Simply, it means one half of your brain is working hard, and the other half is asleep. Ducks do that when they are sleeping so predators don’t kill them when they are nodding off. Donnie The Brain Boy Trump I think only uses half his brain most of the time while the other half is asleep (or dreaming of how he could trademark his ego.)

Whatever the case, he does look a fair bit like a hairy mole.

Stunningly dull and forever yours (unless I owe you money),

Miguel Confucius Druker

Trump Vs. The Empire

Trump v. Empire

When will primary season be over? There's an election afoot, and that causes discomfort in many. Mostly it causes gas.

 Who Is More Evil? Hard To Say

If find the whole thing a little ironic. No, wrong word. Bizarre is le mot juste. Right now, everyone I know who’s following the American primary race is actually rooting for The Empire and not the Rebels. Let me explain.

The so called Establishment candidates, Hilary Bitter Clinton, and I guess Lyin’ Ted Cruz, are in a pitched battle for the leadership of their respective parties, to get a chance to become The Head Banana of the United States of Bananas. They are battling who? The Rebels: Bernie “Trotsky” Sanders, and Donald The Disassociated from Reality” Trump. And let;s face it – they are rebelling against the empires that are their parties.

So what is a person to do when Evil is Good and Good is Evil? The answer is simple: Eat. A lot. Preferably chocolate danish. And cinnamon danish will do in a pinch. But there are side effects to constant eating of life-affirming sugars and dough.

Unnatural Emissions and Omissions

Everything I eat makes me gaseous and bloated. No matter whether it’s carbs, fibre, protein, sugar-based confections like those delicious petroleum-laced snacks made by a faceless conglomerate that has various safety violations and a few environmental crimes under its belt, or even bacon, which technically speaking, is its own food group according the Grand Council of Baconistas.

To alleviate this blight, everyone says I should do a ‘cleanse’ and avoid all matter that causes gases to form in my belly. There are several problems with a cleanse. First of all it sounds like something a religious, fascist zealot would do, so right there you lost me. Second a ‘cleanse’ involves denying myself of things I like. Self-denial is something people who have too much time and wealth on their hands do. I don’t have the time to deny myself stuff because that would mean cleaning out the pantry.

And a cleanse is something vaguely associated with cleaning, an act I loathe because it means I have to wear rubber gloves and be exposed to chemicals that, while shifting my brain into an altered state where conversations with inanimate objects tend to be quite hysterical, tend to have a deleterious effect on my relationship to reality, and thus my wife.

Make  Me

Worse than that, why would I want to clean anything? Isn’t that why there are cleaning ladies? And by that I mean no disrespect to the legion of cleaning men, although that term does seem like a bit of an oxymoron, given the males I know. Unless, however, it’s a neat-freak man, with obsessive compulsive issues and no readily available medication, living in a clean apartment with fresh cut flowers.

Dare I say, it goes against my genetic code to deny myself those things which will lead to the joy of the palate and the bloating of the belly. Come to think of it, the DNA testing results from that guy with a limp and a patch over one eye in the back alley near the strip club was a little suspicious. The results came back with the proper 23 chromosomes, but 4 were still dormant, hence explaining my deep desire to nap every afternoon after lunch.

Well, seeing as this is all too absurd for even more words, I will cleanse my palate with something sugary and cleanse my mental pallet with some sleep.

Mightily Manly and Majestic,

Little Lord Fauntleroy Druker

for the terminally unfunny