David Gustafson's Blog: Bonjour Amigos!, page 6
November 5, 2018
Tomorrow's Election
* I have transferred this answer from the post below to here as its own post*
All that matters tomorrow is the House of Representatives.
With Bill Clinton's first midterm election, the Democrats lost 54 House seats.
With George Bush's first midterm election, the Republicans picked-up 8 House seats, but since that came on the heels of 9/11, let's consider Bush's second midterm where Republicans lost 31 House seats.
With Barack Obama's 2010 midterm election, Democrats lost 63 House seats.
Midterms extract a huge revenge upon a sitting President's party by gutting its House members.
In spite of what the hysterical PC echo chamber proclaims, the tipping point in this midterm has very little to do with His Hindness, the Donald.
In 2016, the working class abandoned the Democratic Party that Barack Obama had transformed into the party of snowflakes, pajama boys and rainbows. After three generations, they concluded that the Democratic Party no longer served the traditional values of working class families.
What happens tomorrow depends not on the voters who either despise or like His Hindness, but whether the working class has found a comfort zone.
If the working class finds itself in limbo after two years of Donald Trump, they will probably stay home in large numbers and the Democrats should roll over the House of Representatives with ease.
As a side note to this farce, the exclusively hysterical PC echo chamber does not constitute a working majority of the electorate. If it did, Hillary Clinton would be President. If the PC echo chamber did constitute a real majority in the country, tomorrow's House elections would be a referendum on His Hindness rather than an election of local representatives. So once again, the scampering little PC myrmidons could be in for a bit of a shock.
Historically, the Democrats stand to win a majority in the House. Let's see how traumatized working class families were by being evicted by Barack Obama's coalition of snowflakes, pajama boys and rainbows.
Let's see where the working class lands. Historically, that is something that actually matters in this election since it will remain in play for some time.
All that matters tomorrow is the House of Representatives.
With Bill Clinton's first midterm election, the Democrats lost 54 House seats.
With George Bush's first midterm election, the Republicans picked-up 8 House seats, but since that came on the heels of 9/11, let's consider Bush's second midterm where Republicans lost 31 House seats.
With Barack Obama's 2010 midterm election, Democrats lost 63 House seats.
Midterms extract a huge revenge upon a sitting President's party by gutting its House members.
In spite of what the hysterical PC echo chamber proclaims, the tipping point in this midterm has very little to do with His Hindness, the Donald.
In 2016, the working class abandoned the Democratic Party that Barack Obama had transformed into the party of snowflakes, pajama boys and rainbows. After three generations, they concluded that the Democratic Party no longer served the traditional values of working class families.
What happens tomorrow depends not on the voters who either despise or like His Hindness, but whether the working class has found a comfort zone.
If the working class finds itself in limbo after two years of Donald Trump, they will probably stay home in large numbers and the Democrats should roll over the House of Representatives with ease.
As a side note to this farce, the exclusively hysterical PC echo chamber does not constitute a working majority of the electorate. If it did, Hillary Clinton would be President. If the PC echo chamber did constitute a real majority in the country, tomorrow's House elections would be a referendum on His Hindness rather than an election of local representatives. So once again, the scampering little PC myrmidons could be in for a bit of a shock.
Historically, the Democrats stand to win a majority in the House. Let's see how traumatized working class families were by being evicted by Barack Obama's coalition of snowflakes, pajama boys and rainbows.
Let's see where the working class lands. Historically, that is something that actually matters in this election since it will remain in play for some time.
October 11, 2018
Barry Dogg Obama Versus His Hindness, The Donald
When His Hindness, The Donald, announced that he will be lunching today with rapper, Kayne West, a.k.a. Mr. Kim Kardashian, whom he referred to as a "genius," we could not help but imagine a cultural Götterdämmerung match-up between these two, red flag intellectual titans against two of their pink pansy counterparts emerging from the transgender locker room of the PC aurora borealis like heroic gladiators in leopardskin thongs raising their glistening tridents to the hysterical, weeping cheers of ANTIFA demonstrators... Barry Dogg Obama and his rapping BFF and Twitter pal, Jay Z, a.k.a. Shawn Carter!!!
Citing his fluctuating red line in Syria that forced millions of Syrians to flee to Europe for their lives as an example of Barry Dogg's ruthless, three-dimensional cunning, the odds-making wizards at CNN have already assured the world that the heroically-clad pink gladiators have an 86% chance of total victory.
TOTAL VICTORY!!!
You can bet your 401 k on it assures CNN, since there is no confusing Electoral College or angry, Midwestern working class voters at play in this unforgiving arena of life and death.
This long-awaited match-up featuring the best that the USA has to offer the world, 2018 Anno Domini, should put to rest any lingering doubts about America ever being great again.
Citing his fluctuating red line in Syria that forced millions of Syrians to flee to Europe for their lives as an example of Barry Dogg's ruthless, three-dimensional cunning, the odds-making wizards at CNN have already assured the world that the heroically-clad pink gladiators have an 86% chance of total victory.
TOTAL VICTORY!!!
You can bet your 401 k on it assures CNN, since there is no confusing Electoral College or angry, Midwestern working class voters at play in this unforgiving arena of life and death.
This long-awaited match-up featuring the best that the USA has to offer the world, 2018 Anno Domini, should put to rest any lingering doubts about America ever being great again.
October 9, 2018
Concerning Justice Brett's GoFundMe Appeal
Dear Mr. and Mrs. America and all ships at sea,
I know that you are tired of all of this, but I think I have waited long enough. I know my long-suffering wife and mortified daughters have waited long enough.
Because of all of the hysteria the media has unleashed over a little misunderstanding between a couple of partying teens, I have waited until now to reveal the sordid details about an assault that I endured against my will, when I was maybe,15 years-old. Maybe 16? Maybe 17? Oh well, what does it matter now? I think I was 15.
Anyway. It was a heartless, tag-team assault in the back seat of a 1956 Chevy by those two Hollywood hussies, the scantily clad Farrah Fawcett and Cheryl Ladd at a drive-in movie theater showing either "Mash" or "Love Story." For some reason, I always confuse those two movies and can never tell them apart., so I cannot say with certainty which movie it was. Maybe it was "Fiddler on the Roof?" What do I know?
But I do remember finishing one (1), just one six pack of Colt 45 beer. Each one of those beauties from the ice cooler was good and cold! That much I remember very clearly. Maybe there was some buttered popcorn involved as well, but that fact remains rather slippery to me to this day.
Anyway, those two sultry sex sirens held me down against my will and repeatedly tickled me until my toes curled so violently that the muscles locked-up and the little piggies had to be pried open at home by my Mom while Dad held her nose.
Those violent toe spasms recur to this very day, seriously interfering with my golf game.
Also, and I completely forgot about this until I went through therapy a few years back, one of those scantily-clad Amazons accidentally brushed up against my franks and beans with her boobies.
I cannot remember whether it was Farrah Fawcett or Cheryl Ladd who took advantage of my teenage pride and joy with her boobies. (Who cares, right?) But whoever it was, I forgive her. That's what I always say, forgive and forget.
So please, help me with my continued recovery and therapy by donating to Justice Brett's Curling Toes @GoFundMe account. I promise to donate half of all proceeds to Senator Diane Feinstein's re-election committee.
While I'm at it, let me give Diane and her staff a little shout-out for all that they have done on behalf of my career.
If Senator Feinstein had released Dr. Ford's letter to the Senate back in July when she received it, I am certain my sullied name would have been quietly withdrawn from consideration. Thankfully, Diane and her staff withheld the letter hoping to take advantage of its incendiary accusations for political gain before the mid-term elections.
Thanks to their delaying tactics, I now have lifetime tenure on the Supremely Silly Court along with that mummified Pterodactly of judicial lucidity on loan from the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
Thank you, Diane Feinstein. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. America and all ships at sea!
Bottoms up! Wink, wink.
Your good-old, life-tenured, beer-drinking buddy,
Justice Brett
I know that you are tired of all of this, but I think I have waited long enough. I know my long-suffering wife and mortified daughters have waited long enough.
Because of all of the hysteria the media has unleashed over a little misunderstanding between a couple of partying teens, I have waited until now to reveal the sordid details about an assault that I endured against my will, when I was maybe,15 years-old. Maybe 16? Maybe 17? Oh well, what does it matter now? I think I was 15.
Anyway. It was a heartless, tag-team assault in the back seat of a 1956 Chevy by those two Hollywood hussies, the scantily clad Farrah Fawcett and Cheryl Ladd at a drive-in movie theater showing either "Mash" or "Love Story." For some reason, I always confuse those two movies and can never tell them apart., so I cannot say with certainty which movie it was. Maybe it was "Fiddler on the Roof?" What do I know?
But I do remember finishing one (1), just one six pack of Colt 45 beer. Each one of those beauties from the ice cooler was good and cold! That much I remember very clearly. Maybe there was some buttered popcorn involved as well, but that fact remains rather slippery to me to this day.
Anyway, those two sultry sex sirens held me down against my will and repeatedly tickled me until my toes curled so violently that the muscles locked-up and the little piggies had to be pried open at home by my Mom while Dad held her nose.
Those violent toe spasms recur to this very day, seriously interfering with my golf game.
Also, and I completely forgot about this until I went through therapy a few years back, one of those scantily-clad Amazons accidentally brushed up against my franks and beans with her boobies.
I cannot remember whether it was Farrah Fawcett or Cheryl Ladd who took advantage of my teenage pride and joy with her boobies. (Who cares, right?) But whoever it was, I forgive her. That's what I always say, forgive and forget.
So please, help me with my continued recovery and therapy by donating to Justice Brett's Curling Toes @GoFundMe account. I promise to donate half of all proceeds to Senator Diane Feinstein's re-election committee.
While I'm at it, let me give Diane and her staff a little shout-out for all that they have done on behalf of my career.
If Senator Feinstein had released Dr. Ford's letter to the Senate back in July when she received it, I am certain my sullied name would have been quietly withdrawn from consideration. Thankfully, Diane and her staff withheld the letter hoping to take advantage of its incendiary accusations for political gain before the mid-term elections.
Thanks to their delaying tactics, I now have lifetime tenure on the Supremely Silly Court along with that mummified Pterodactly of judicial lucidity on loan from the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, Ruth Bader Ginsburg.
Thank you, Diane Feinstein. Thank you Mr. and Mrs. America and all ships at sea!
Bottoms up! Wink, wink.
Your good-old, life-tenured, beer-drinking buddy,
Justice Brett
October 6, 2018
Your Beery-Eyed Friend, Justice Brett
Dear Diane,
Thank you so much for making my nomination a partisan issue by suppressing Dr. Ford's July accusations against me until the very last minute. Otherwise, several common sense Republicans might have quietly suggested that I be replaced with a more respectable and dignified nominee. Thank you, Diane.
I promise to repay your kindness even though I don't know how many beers it will take to drink an ugly, lying skank like you pretty enough to roll her over on her fat ass for some giggles, but who gives a shit since I have the leisure of lifetime tenure thanks to your partisanship.
Besides, you know I like my beer. I promise you that I will do my best for our country to drink you pretty even if I bust a gut.
Thank you, thank you, Senator Feinstein!
Your beery-eyed BFF
Justice Brett
Thank you so much for making my nomination a partisan issue by suppressing Dr. Ford's July accusations against me until the very last minute. Otherwise, several common sense Republicans might have quietly suggested that I be replaced with a more respectable and dignified nominee. Thank you, Diane.
I promise to repay your kindness even though I don't know how many beers it will take to drink an ugly, lying skank like you pretty enough to roll her over on her fat ass for some giggles, but who gives a shit since I have the leisure of lifetime tenure thanks to your partisanship.
Besides, you know I like my beer. I promise you that I will do my best for our country to drink you pretty even if I bust a gut.
Thank you, thank you, Senator Feinstein!
Your beery-eyed BFF
Justice Brett
October 2, 2018
The American Music Awards
The American Music Awards are scheduled for this coming Tuesday for all of the boob tube nose-pickers in a trance about mindless songs competing with the best pre-pubescent nursery rhyme lyrics set to the nuanced techno harmony of an electric can opener.
These days, the AMA's and the Grammys competitions are all about the rotting fruits of music videos rather than music. Or, is it more about the American fixation with fame than music? In any event, it is the perfect occupation for all of those dainty "musicians" practicing their professional craft by tossing various poses of themselves towards the bathroom mirror from morning till night.
Once upon time in America, pop music came with intelligent lyrics set to sophisticated music. Once upon a time...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8L6KG...
Given the subject matter, this is a rather appropriate title, is it not?
These days, the AMA's and the Grammys competitions are all about the rotting fruits of music videos rather than music. Or, is it more about the American fixation with fame than music? In any event, it is the perfect occupation for all of those dainty "musicians" practicing their professional craft by tossing various poses of themselves towards the bathroom mirror from morning till night.
Once upon time in America, pop music came with intelligent lyrics set to sophisticated music. Once upon a time...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8L6KG...
Given the subject matter, this is a rather appropriate title, is it not?
September 30, 2018
Randy Rainbow - World Class Satirist
With all of the sanctimonious hypocrisy of the PC media spank wankers at the NYT, WaPo and CNN, with all of the opportunities to flail the Four Turd Squeaks of the American Political Apocalypse a.k.a. Whacky Bush Doodles, Barry Dogg Obama, Pilloried Hillary and His Hindness, Daffy Quack Quack, there is very little quality satire these days.
Besides being nose-picker boring, Saturday Night Live on the boob tube has all of the intellectual velocity of a badminton birdie.
Certainly, there is nothing strutting about compared to satire's glory days of the Weimar Republic when parody loaded its guns with incendiary ammo provided by some of the brightest literary lights.
Psssssssssst....There is hope...
May I introduce some of you to an amazing talent featured on YouTube, Randy Rainbow.
This man has the goods. He is world class.
If only Randy would strafe his machine gun wit from right to left for a little more balance. There are plenty of opportunities.
You be the judge:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWTiF...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gG0-...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dReOd...
Besides being nose-picker boring, Saturday Night Live on the boob tube has all of the intellectual velocity of a badminton birdie.
Certainly, there is nothing strutting about compared to satire's glory days of the Weimar Republic when parody loaded its guns with incendiary ammo provided by some of the brightest literary lights.
Psssssssssst....There is hope...
May I introduce some of you to an amazing talent featured on YouTube, Randy Rainbow.
This man has the goods. He is world class.
If only Randy would strafe his machine gun wit from right to left for a little more balance. There are plenty of opportunities.
You be the judge:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sWTiF...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6gG0-...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dReOd...
September 12, 2018
#3 Advice@ScriptoriumLudi
This is the third installment of our new advice column featuring the wisdom of his nibs, the even-handed calligrapher, Brother Ludi.
********************************************************
Dear Brother Ludi,
I am writing to you because my Mom thinks you are the greatest.
I know this is nothing new for someone my age, but I am having a lot of boy problems. The last little creep to ask me out wore orange sneakers and ate his cheeseburger with a knife and fork like a British wanker.
Enough of boys, I think I am ready for some man problems. I just want a man, please and thank you!
My Dad suggested that I buy a Harley and hang out in biker bars. Mom said I should bring myself back from the dark side and change my major from media sciences to something more respectable such as mechanical engineering or quantum physics. As you well know, Mom is a famous mathematician.
What should I do, Brother Ludi? What should I do?
Boopy Betty Boop
Sighing in San Diego
*********************************************************
Dear Boopy Betty Boop,
Have patience, Boopy, your man problems will arrive soon enough since you look exactly like your Mom.
However, if you are in a big hurry, you might consider moving to Argentina for a few months to ride with the gauchos. Otherwise, jump on one of those sport-fishing boats out of San Diego. You will meet plenty of old geezers, excuse me, men, willing to bait your hook.
I guarantee that you will incite a boatload of man problems before you dock with your catch-of-the-day.
XXXxx*O*xxXXX
(like my angel?)
Brother Ludi
********************************************************
Dear Brother Ludi,
I am writing to you because my Mom thinks you are the greatest.
I know this is nothing new for someone my age, but I am having a lot of boy problems. The last little creep to ask me out wore orange sneakers and ate his cheeseburger with a knife and fork like a British wanker.
Enough of boys, I think I am ready for some man problems. I just want a man, please and thank you!
My Dad suggested that I buy a Harley and hang out in biker bars. Mom said I should bring myself back from the dark side and change my major from media sciences to something more respectable such as mechanical engineering or quantum physics. As you well know, Mom is a famous mathematician.
What should I do, Brother Ludi? What should I do?
Boopy Betty Boop
Sighing in San Diego
*********************************************************
Dear Boopy Betty Boop,
Have patience, Boopy, your man problems will arrive soon enough since you look exactly like your Mom.
However, if you are in a big hurry, you might consider moving to Argentina for a few months to ride with the gauchos. Otherwise, jump on one of those sport-fishing boats out of San Diego. You will meet plenty of old geezers, excuse me, men, willing to bait your hook.
I guarantee that you will incite a boatload of man problems before you dock with your catch-of-the-day.
XXXxx*O*xxXXX
(like my angel?)
Brother Ludi
September 3, 2018
Steering the Supremely Silly Court
The confirmation hearings for Supremely Silly Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh get underway tomorrow. At stake is a vote that could take judicial considerations starboard for a least a generation since a seat on the Silly Court carries with it the chimera of lifetime tenure.
Instead of a Congressional hearing, an hysterical inquisition will ensue concerning the nominee's personal allegiance to Roe v Wade, the Big A - Abortion.
This will be a hot bosh dispute between the forces of Pro-Life and Pro-Choice on whether or not a fetus is a living human organism worthy of legal protections or whether it is just another inconvenient nose bugger solely belonging to its rightful owner.
This has been the unsettled conundrum with Americans ever since Roe v Wade, forty-five years ago.
The usual political scum will get blisters inside their garlic mouths providing the PC media wankers with a week's worth of screaming headlines.
A vote will be taken and Kavanaugh will assume his seat on the Supremely Silly Court next to that mummified Pterodactyl on loan from the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, Ruth Bader Ginsberg, whose creepy crepe skin sticks to the Silly bench like crotch rot.
Everything will be settled except for whether or not a human fetus deserves more legal protection than a nose bugger. This is the dexterity with which the American experience has framed this conundrum since Roe v Wade. It is a conundrum with lifetime tenure.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_y6n...
Instead of a Congressional hearing, an hysterical inquisition will ensue concerning the nominee's personal allegiance to Roe v Wade, the Big A - Abortion.
This will be a hot bosh dispute between the forces of Pro-Life and Pro-Choice on whether or not a fetus is a living human organism worthy of legal protections or whether it is just another inconvenient nose bugger solely belonging to its rightful owner.
This has been the unsettled conundrum with Americans ever since Roe v Wade, forty-five years ago.
The usual political scum will get blisters inside their garlic mouths providing the PC media wankers with a week's worth of screaming headlines.
A vote will be taken and Kavanaugh will assume his seat on the Supremely Silly Court next to that mummified Pterodactyl on loan from the Egyptian Museum of Antiquities, Ruth Bader Ginsberg, whose creepy crepe skin sticks to the Silly bench like crotch rot.
Everything will be settled except for whether or not a human fetus deserves more legal protection than a nose bugger. This is the dexterity with which the American experience has framed this conundrum since Roe v Wade. It is a conundrum with lifetime tenure.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9_y6n...
September 2, 2018
The Swedish Ghost Party and the Subliminal Vote
Dear old Sverige goes to the polls next Sunday. This will not be a traditional clash between the working class and the overclass. The ruling Social Democrats used to represent the working class, but like the American Democratic Party, they have shifted their allegiance away from the workers and towards the mesmerizing aurora borealis of Political Correctness and everyone knows how well that worked out for Hillary Clinton.
In deference to Karl Marx, the working class and human decency, those socialists should trade in their red marching banners for the more proper, pink flags of PC modernity.
This shift in allegiance has alienated many Swedes who take pride in their native culture, giving the right-wing Sweden Democrats the opportunity to slurp-up thousands of disaffected voters who are fed-up with the PC narrative that has infected Swedish media and politics like a cheerful outbreak of genital warts.
Early forecasts suggest that the vilified Sweden Democrats may emerge with the second largest representation in the Riksdag.
What most analysts will never admit is that this is not a vote against the traditional ruling socialists, rather it is a vote against an institution that is not even a political party. It is a subliminal vote against the 24/7 PC indoctrination by the Swedish media.
In deference to Karl Marx, the working class and human decency, those socialists should trade in their red marching banners for the more proper, pink flags of PC modernity.
This shift in allegiance has alienated many Swedes who take pride in their native culture, giving the right-wing Sweden Democrats the opportunity to slurp-up thousands of disaffected voters who are fed-up with the PC narrative that has infected Swedish media and politics like a cheerful outbreak of genital warts.
Early forecasts suggest that the vilified Sweden Democrats may emerge with the second largest representation in the Riksdag.
What most analysts will never admit is that this is not a vote against the traditional ruling socialists, rather it is a vote against an institution that is not even a political party. It is a subliminal vote against the 24/7 PC indoctrination by the Swedish media.
August 27, 2018
Senator "Crash" McVoid
At his own request, Senator "Crash" McVoid will be eulogized with a lot of tearful, boob tube doo-doo this weekend from two of America's doo-doo aces, our resident war criminal, Whacky Bush Doodles and Barry Dogg Obama, blessed be his name, the Pink Pansy of the all-knowing pajama boys inhabiting the politically correct aurora borealis like drone bees awaiting Her Majesty's summons for that once-in-a-lifetime zinger while the worker bees down below carry on with their everyday chores that make the beehive function.
Crash, who graduated last in his class at the Naval Academy and smashed at least two training planes while practicing his nimble skills was nonetheless given a combat plane to strut his manly stuff with in Vietnam, but hey, there are no indelible demerits when Daddy is an Admiral. Besides, the Vietnamese won their long-sought independence from foreign intervention so why bring up that ugly, historical footnote in the first place?
Eventually, McVoid became a Senator from Arizona leaving behind a lifetime legacy of unceasing mediocrity worthy of his scholarly achievements. His signature foreign policy drumbeat was projecting American military force into every irrelevant nook-and-cranny of the world that posed absolutely no threat, what-so-ever, to any American family peaceably barbecuing their burgers anywhere between Portland Oregon and Portland, Maine. Better safe than sorry, as the clueless often say.
Well, this is the negative infinity that has become America and this McVoid is a void that will be hard to fill, but we are confident that Doodles and Barry Dogg have the right stuff to rev-up the phony baloney with some magic boney phaloney for the boob tube cameras servicing the nose-pickers at home that gave up reading books two generations ago.
The only tragedy is that this vaudeville seance of national magnitude will not be a graveside service where Doodles and Barry Dogg might just trip over their teleprompters and stumble into the open hole of eternity along with their new BFF, Crash.
Crash, who graduated last in his class at the Naval Academy and smashed at least two training planes while practicing his nimble skills was nonetheless given a combat plane to strut his manly stuff with in Vietnam, but hey, there are no indelible demerits when Daddy is an Admiral. Besides, the Vietnamese won their long-sought independence from foreign intervention so why bring up that ugly, historical footnote in the first place?
Eventually, McVoid became a Senator from Arizona leaving behind a lifetime legacy of unceasing mediocrity worthy of his scholarly achievements. His signature foreign policy drumbeat was projecting American military force into every irrelevant nook-and-cranny of the world that posed absolutely no threat, what-so-ever, to any American family peaceably barbecuing their burgers anywhere between Portland Oregon and Portland, Maine. Better safe than sorry, as the clueless often say.
Well, this is the negative infinity that has become America and this McVoid is a void that will be hard to fill, but we are confident that Doodles and Barry Dogg have the right stuff to rev-up the phony baloney with some magic boney phaloney for the boob tube cameras servicing the nose-pickers at home that gave up reading books two generations ago.
The only tragedy is that this vaudeville seance of national magnitude will not be a graveside service where Doodles and Barry Dogg might just trip over their teleprompters and stumble into the open hole of eternity along with their new BFF, Crash.
