Month: January 2018

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Feet, say “Good-bye” to Rug. Face, say “Hello” to Concrete Floor.

14 May 2019

Since the I.T. weasels at “bluehost/wordpress” (rtm) have seen fit to throw more impediments in the way of my learning to ‘b log, I suppose I’m going to have to start over. Let’s reset that timer, then, and see how this works. With any luck I should be successfully ‘b logging any time, as it has been almost five minutes and twenty months now…

Such optimism, as invigorating and inspiring as it may be, is hardly warranted by the evidence. I am nowhere nearly as e-woak, sadly, as the hip groovy ‘b logsters of the plenum cybernium. But I am undaunted and undismayed and undeterred and committed to antagonizing the thoughtless, the careless, the evil, the shallow, and mostly, the egregiously anti-literate!

Tutorials Mark II
Overview: Well this is encouraging. “Overview” is new, and offers perhaps a general understanding of what’s to come. That’s a helpful difference already. .Perhaps Mark II (of the tutorial series at least) will be an actual improvement over Mark I.
I’m generally optimistic BEFORE I press “play.”

WAIT! WHAT?
Installing WordPress? What happened to OVERVIEW? And besides, hasn’t wordpress already been installed? I’ve got that already, haven’t I? Besides, I just copy in from my home program anyway. What’s the deal? Oh well, nothin’ for it but to press on…

That WAS the first video. Moving on…

Um… “Basics of wordpress?
C-PANEL! Look! It’s a C-Panel! Finally! Never seen one before. For months those pinheads at the “help” line have been yammering about “C-Panels” but never show me one! After twenty months I finally get to see!
And it looks like nothing I’ve seen anywhere on my own screen. How did they get there and what does it do?
That may have been yet another waste of effort. All of those unfamiliar screens and unexplained motion seemed to get finally to the familiar “dashboard” screen that I tripped over long ago.
When I think of all the HOURS I spent talking to the alleged “help” line and their fucking refusal to explain what a “c-panel” was, how to get to it, and what I was supposed to do when I got there, I begin to think that maybe “weasel” is a little too generous.
Must stew….

29 March 2020:  Bluehost still declines to welcome the innocent.  Apparently, a “theme” is not a motif, or a style, or a topic.  Its new (anti-intuitive and non-obvious) cyberlogue definition seems to be “format” or “layout” or “pattern” or “template” and refers NOT to the “style” or “look” or “motif” but to the relative dimensions or aspect ratios available on the screen.
Hmmm…  “Anti-intuitive” and “non-obvious”   Could there be a better recommendation than that for cyberlogue neologisms?  How better to keep the riff-raff out of the Elites’ playground?

28 August 2020 I would like to thank my friends and family, and the TWSE, for their kind assistance in making this website the attractive success that it is.  I’d like to, except they didn’t, and it isn’t, so I won’t.

31 August 2020 I’ve got another datum! I’ve got another datum! With these I can now get a better idea of the translation scale I need to understand the assurances and blandishments of the savvy marketeer. Given that “blogging in five minutes” is going on three years now, and well short of accomplishment, I can readily surmise that “takes literally no time to set up” could well mean additional hours of frustration. With additional data I should be able to start drawing some reasonable curves.

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Love Letters in the Air

undated, ca 1998? — Diva Dearest:  No one makes me laugh like you do, and no one I know laughs at my jokes the way you do.  I did have a rollicking good time at work tonight, and most of my material was well received, but there were moments when I wished you could be there with us.  You always make good times better.
In addition to sharing the same brain (mostly) I guess our strongest bond has to be that we share the same bad joke center in our brains.  (Was delicious blitzed bird — er — potted poultry — er — roast chicken)
I know you understand that I work this hard and this much for all of us, but I’m afraid sometimes that I shouldn’t be enjoying work as much as I do.  Why should I be having such fun when you’re stuck home?  It doesn’t seem fair, but then I’m the sort of person who’s going to have fun no matter what.  There’s GOT to be a pony in here somewhere!
I look forward to the time when I can be comfortable in taking it easier and not struggling so much to bring money into our lives and fighting to pay down our enormous debts.  I guess I can be a bit of a prick about it, but I feel strongly that we need this income to establish a little well-deserved and long overdue security.  Any way, I love you, and I’m sorry I can’t be as present as you’d like.  Yer sweetie always…

11 January 1999 —  Whatever you want, dear,
as long as you keep lifting your butt in the air for me.
update 210227:  As I recall, she did ask me to put it in writing.

3 May 2000 —  Should the horrific actually occur, & my airplane ends up at the bottom of the sea, please always remember that… Outrigger and Hilton owe us $.

14 February 2001 — Words once so abundant and beautiful,
have lately seemed so empty and debased.

update 210109:  Said “masterwork” is now available (see West of ’89)
“Granny” and “Pops” were clever allusions to Major Doma‘s pregnancy;
Drama Queen later expressed her preference for “Fairy God Mother”
She succumbed to a lifetime of physical ailments in 2017
(see Eulogy for a Drama Queen.)
Milli succumbed to elements unknown in 2015
(see Richard Milhous Nixon Brave Brave Sir Robin Axis Greigh)
And as far as Sugar and Bud go…  I think I may be on probation.
(see Singled Down)

30 September 2008
Your entreaties do not fall on deaf ears.  There is much to ponder these days, from cookies to colleges and everything in between.  It would not be prudent at this juncture to commit beyond the letter of our agreement without an income (& I am looking for work, alas!) but while weighing matters I am delighted to make interest free advance childcare payments while I consider options.  I would also retroactively adjust payments based on any increase in income (so I’ll get back to it!)  We’ll continue this discussion anon, but for now I hope this helps.
update 210227:  The cited advance payments were never actually deducted from future scheduled child support agreements after all.  I was fortunate enough to be able to help her out and let it go, though my wording did turn out to be a little contentious anyway.  But that was probably just knee-jerk Former Arch Nemesis reflexes on her part.

19 June 2022  —  Dear Early Riser,
I was saddened to learn, from Stargazer, via L’Historienne, that you’d taken another spill.  At one time I imagined that I’d be there for you, to catch you or to even prevent such mishaps.
Even though you have long ago released me from my pledge to protect and support you through trials, tribulation, and trysts, and because I always retain original affections, I still feel as if I have disappointed and betrayed us both.
I hope you mend well and soon, and that your prospective accommodations are both suitable and harmonious.
Love always, Lethargy Lad
post script:  Because of my peculiar cognitive attributes, I’ve tended to give off mixed signals, so many have allowed their erroneous expectations to disappoint them.  I commiserate.  Rational expectations are based on evidence, and because I often SOUND smart, many people assume that I AM smart.  Sorry, but I’m just a clever idiot savant, whose childhood led him to believe that every conflict MUST lead to violence.  So, by avoiding violence, I avoided confrontation, which ultimately denied me intimacy.
You learned better.  Diva Dearest learned better.  Missus Axis learned better.  “Who’s next?” I wonder.

8 July 2022 — found this, seems apt:  “If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” – Anne Lamott

3 September 2022  —  Dear Early Riser,
Please accept my congratulations on the successful completion of jour Three Score and Ten, and upon the commencement of jour Eighth Decade!  I wish I could be presenting you with a German Chocolate Cake and otherwise helping you to celebrate so auspicious an event!  I am almost breathless at the rush of time.  As I write this, I am now, to the nearest month, 6 decades, 6 years, and 6 months old, and I reflect that it is a mere thirty-six years and eight months since my misbegotten and ill-conceived effort to commemorate your thirty-three and a third.  Duegpd gayen jakket jolof pfogs hlah wed tju, foxio gawenk edji oimhoot yobur wed, ftjup ikol jix ffikus gaen omtugv yxed rjewm qik, gocow fuk.
Happy Birthday and Fondest Wishes for Joyous Memories!

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A Tale of Two Larries (or how “White Privilege” trumps scholarship at Stanford University)

23 March 2016

This is a story about Pink Larry and Brown Larry. The Larries both went to Spartan Senior Juniorhigh, were in a few of the same classes, and were both to graduate in the same year.  Here their stories diverge.

Pink Larry was a skinny “white” (pink) kid who exelled at math, science, and literature. Brown Larry was a muscular “black” (brown) dude who exelled at football, snapping towels, and pushing skinny “white” (pink) kids around. Fortunately, Pink Larry was a little taller, faster, and more agile than most skinny “white” (pink) kids, so he managed to mainly escape the “sport” of Brown Larry and his “student athlete” companions.  Some of his friends were not so lucky.

Tiring of being molested and maligned in “gym class”, Pink Larry dropped out of Phys Ed. Tiring of correcting his “instructors’” spelling and grammar, Pink Larry dropped out of English class.  Tiring of state-worshipping, Keynsian, revisionist “teachers”, Pink Larry dropped out of history class.

Things aren’t looking so good for Pink Larry here, but despair ye not. When Principal Menelaus saw that Pink Larry could not (by statutory decree) be graduated without the all-important PE, English, and Social(ist) Studies credits, he summoned Pink Larry’s mom for a conference.  Because of Pink Larry’s stubbornness (or his disinclination to endure more locker room beatings) he said, “So be it, I shan’t graduate.”

Well, Mom wouldn’t stand for that.  Since she was unwilling to escort him to PE for the remainder of his senior year, Pink Larry was scheduled to test for his General Education Diploma.  Of course, he aced it.  What else should you expect from a lad who blew away all comers in his school-wide math competition TWO YEARS running?

Unfortunately, not everything is as easy as algebra. It was determined that it would be “unfair” for Pink Larry to get his GED in April, so he was obliged to wait until the rest of “his” class was properly graduated in June.

Spartan Senior Juniorhigh comes to the end of another year, ready to launch another class out into the world. The Larries have big plans. Pink Larry wants to go to Stanford University and study physics and organic chemistry. Brown Larry wants to play football. One of them gets a “scholarship” to do just that.

Forty years later the other one is selling soda pop and chips at the QuickStopp-by-the-Interstate™. So, everybody wins. Arguably, what saves Pink Larry from disappointment and resentment might be the news that Stanford still makes such laudable selections. Rather than succumb to bitterness, he accepts his good fortune and sends Stanford belated thanks, as follows:

I’ve wondered about it for decades, so I am grateful to the current news for illustrating what Stanford’s ethical standards really entail:

Apparently, you’re all perfectly cool with a swimming rapist matriculating into your hallowed halls.  On the other hand, there is no room for a decent math and science prodigy who did not receive his Senior Juniorhigh diploma because he could no longer enjoy the attacks and the abuse from the elite and privileged “athaleets” in Phys Ed, and who tired of correcting the grammar and spelling of his English “teachers”, and who could no longer stomach the collectivist propaganda from his “History” teachers.  Instead, I squandered my High School years studying trigonometry, linear algebra, physics, organic chemistry, and other useless non-sports related activities.

I was disappointed — crushed in fact, metaphorically speaking — by your rejecting me these many decades ago. I had so looked forward to working with and studying under the great Linus Pauling, but no… I couldn’t catch a football like my classmate, so, tough break for scholarship. It is clearly secondary to panem et circensis.

Maybe I actually ducked a bullet.  Who knows? 
I could have been left behind a dumpster myself if I’d suffered the depredations of the Ideal Stanford Man.

Stanford declined to respond.

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A Secure Frontier

7 June 2002
campaign rhetoric… I exhort the crowd.

Responsible people will prepare themselves for dangers and accidents. Some carry guns, others study jiu jitsu, many pack first aid kits and jugs of water in their cars. Communities organize locally to protect themselves from predators and rough weather — murderers, rapists, blizzards, and floods. Likewise, on a Federal level, we establish a standing military to protect America from Nazis, Imperialists, and other aggressors. The world is ever perilous, and we must never neglect the unknown. Too many of the dangers we have faced as a nation have come upon us by surprise — whether the malign efforts of villains, or indifferent acts of nature. Though we can’t know for certain where they will next appear, whether from a Peoples’ Republic of Atlantis, or a rogue asteroid on a collision course with the Earth, we must prepare for all possible threats.

The Libertarian foreign policy is simplicity itself: “Do what you will with your own and be at peace with the United States. Trifle with us at your peril.” This is a policy of strict self-defense and non-interference. It is not isolationism, and it does not mean that we individual American citizens may not express our moral outrage at the atrocities committed by religious, racist, and misogynist zealots worldwide. It does not mean that individual Americans would be barred from supporting the partisans of their choosing, or even taking up arms on their behalf. It means that the American Government will spend American Dollars and spill American Blood only when it is our vital national interest. Otherwise, we should pursue a policy of peaceful trade with all nations, entangling alliances with none.

The North Atlantic Treaty Organization, for example, may well have served a legitimate purpose in containing the very real threat of Soviet hegemony, but in 1990, when the constituent republics of the former USSR renounced its aims of global consolidation and dissolved the beast, NATO lost all reason for being. However, like all government bureaucracies, it took on a life of its own and commenced seeking new missions. The NATO sponsored and United Nations endorsed assault on Serbia may very well portend a new internationalist order of conquest and domination to dwarf the aims of the Soviet Union. A free people and a peaceful republic have no place in nor any use for any such interventionist order.

Consistent with national defense, the Federal Government has a responsibility to explore and to secure the frontier. President Jefferson did right by sending Lewis and Clark to Oregon, and President Kennedy did right by sending Apollo to the Moon. We don’t know what dangers lurk in the heavens — solar storms to disrupt our weather, stray comets to vaporize our oceans, or massive meteor strikes to rain ruin onto our cities. We can’t know if we don’t look, and to dismiss the possibility and refuse to prepare for danger is suicidal recklessness. Wishes won’t make us safe, and hope is no refuge from the storm.

Human intelligence and our sense of wonder are gifts too rare and magnificent for us to follow the dinosaurs into oblivion.

But of course, the frontier isn’t all danger — neither Oregon nor Hawaii have ever threatened America, but both have enriched the Union. Likewise, there is enormous wealth in the New Frontier. The New Millennium Dawns with the promise of Life, Liberty, Prosperity, and Peace. A full belly for every hungry child. A good job for every able body. An ennobling challenge for every nimble mind. The Earth can be more fruitful, the seas richer, the air cleaner and sweeter. The future of industry is in the sky, where limitless energy awaits in the form of unfiltered sunshine, and limitless resources revolve serenely around the Sun in wide elliptical orbits between Jupiter and Mars. Let the Earth bloom as a garden, as a park, as a pasture, and as our own inviting back yard. There are fabulous riches and adventures in the outer realm, and they wait there for the people with the courage and the vision to reach out and seize them.

Toward that end, I propose that America re-establish a permanent orbital presence — a presence unstained by internationalist sentiments, unrestricted by internationalist intervention, and unimpeded by internationalist involvement.

Furthermore, I propose the establishment of a permanent settlement on the Moon, a manned mission to Mars, and that we send unmanned vessels to begin investigating the Asteroids. Do I overreach? Perhaps, but I believe that a vigorous society must overreach. To do less is to betray our posterity, and to condemn our heirs to lives of tyranny and poverty.

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Big Newton’s

29 January 2018

Isaac Newton said he saw so far because he stood on the shoulders of giants. Okeh, I guess he can have his humble brag, and his salute to his predecessors, but he did at least have the fortitude to actually STAND on those shoulders. Most of the rest of us are comfortable today riding in the pockets of giants.

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* * * * * * advertisement * * * * * *

cover illustrations by Dick Giordano & Russ Heath.  Used without permission.  Piracy Press is a non-profit enterprise dedicated to the preservation and distribution of great art and ripping good yarns.  Digital Damage by Lethargy Lad.  Price per issue:  Ten Centigrams Gold.

Stories are selected with the greatest of discrimination, but even numbered issues of Daring Love are specifically edited with the prurient interests of atavistic fanboys in mind.  Reader discretion is advised.

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Without him there’d be anarchy!

Most Americans admire (“Honest”) Abe Lincoln; we love a winner! But take pause, history books are written and printed in winning regimes.

I firmly expect that if Adolf Hitler had won his particular war he would be revered today as the Father of a United Europe and the Savior of the Reich. Any talk of his closing newspapers, arresting judges, locking up protesters, closing legislatures, or shooting draft resisters would be dismissed as the tiresome rhetoric of “revisionist historians.”

To those who say that John Wilkes Boothe was too late to save America, I say that Hitler was too late to save Canaan.
180122

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Free Bernard!

General Cashier,
The Confederate Mint
Lebanon, Ohio; 45036
Greater Cincinnatistan

Jean Schmidt, MC
District of Columbia

Mrs Schmidt,

To begin, I copy the e-mail that I sent to Mr Thomas Ascik, Assistant US Attorney in Statesville, North Carolina:

Attn Thomas Ascik:

I hereby certify that I am the bearer of Liberty Dollar warehouse receipts and an interested party in any forfeiture action regarding my property. I demand the return of my property or its fair market value in a timely manner and to be informed with sufficient time to reply to any and all actions until my property is returned. In addition to the ability to redeem my warehouse receipts as originally agreed, I am also out the six hundred Federal Reserve Dollars that I sent to Liberty Dollar in November of 2007, just as your accomplices were seizing our property in violation of the 1st, 4th, and 5th Amendments, as well as of decency, courtesy, and human conscience.

At this point I would very much prefer the twenty five ounces of silver for which I paid, plus the hundred ounces of copper, though I suppose at this point, since you people have me both out-gunned and out-numbered, I may well have to settle for far less than justice.

I can be contacted by return e-mail, or by surface mail or by telephone.  I am eager for your response, and I remain, in spite of the evidence, relentlessly optimistic.

While I indeed tend toward optimism in my life, I am not unaware of the great indifference to injustice that often permeates our culture and our governmental institutions. One such example is the egregious assault on Liberty Dollar and the ridiculous charge of “counterfeiting” against Bernard von NotHaus.

For the years that I was pleased to be associated with the Liberty Dollar organization I have never been given cause to complain until the FBI seized my property in November of 2007, nor have I received any complaints from vendors whose one ounce Ten and Twenty Liberty Dollar pieces have since appreciated to a current metallic wholesale content of thirty-seven (Incredible Shrinking) Federal Reserve “Dollars.”

I have appealed to President Obama, as a human being and as a student of the Constitution and as an advocate of social justice, to immediately pardon Bernard von NotHaus and to direct the Justice and Treasury Departments to return all impounded properties.

Of course, while the Congress may have no authority to pardon, they can nevertheless bring much to bear in the way of inquiry and subpoena power.

I look forward to a timely and just resolution to this assault on privacy, property, and freedom of expression.

I thank you for your attention to this matter, and I invite you to contact me at your convenience.

General Cashier

Cc: Senator Sherrod Brown
Senator Robert Portman
President Barack Obama
120112

update 180416: 97% discount in graphic was based on the price of silver in 2012. While Greigh Area Associates does traffic in silver coin, discounts are negotiable.

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Qualitative Teasing

“Pleasant Noises”  (11 November 2011)
I’m making Pleasant Noises with my face.
Meaningless pleasant noises with my face.
How we doin’? Same ol’ same ol. Watchya gonna do?
How about them Reds (or Bengals), will they follow through?
How about this weather, isn’t it a pain?
And if it doesn’t clear up soon I think it’s gonna rain.
If I made a table, I’d have a place to eat.
And if I made a sofa, I’d have a comfy seat.
If I made an outhouse, I’d have someplace to go.
But if all I “make” is small talk, then what have I got to show?
From making pleasant noises with my face.
Meaningless pleasant noises with my face.

“Our Selection”  (24 June 2013)
[because I work at the QuikkStopp, and it says “drug dealer” on my tax return]
Oh, we’ve got…
Alcohol, acetominophen,
Fanolidine and ibuprofen,
Caffeine, nicotine, melatonin,
And bismuth subsalicylate.
Acetyl salicylic acid,
Boner pills if you feel flaccid.
Phenylephrine hydrochloride,
Dextromethorphan hydrobromide,
Doxylamine succinate
And chlorphenamine maleate.
Ranitidin and gualfenesin,
Diphenhydramine, what a blessin’!
Pyrilamine maleate,
We got the stuff to set you straight.
We got the stuff to get you tight,
Or to keep you up all night.

“Sucker Bucks”  (30 April 2014)

I pulled in to the QuikkStopp, to check my manifest.
The price I saw for gasoline, it put me to the test.
The sign said, “Bring your silver, we’ll gladly make a deal.
For just two Silver Dollars, a full tank and a good hot meal.”

A paper “dollar” don’t go too far
When you try to put gasoline in your car.
Groceries, rent, and an MP3,
Underwear and an orange tree.
A six-pack, chips, or a pack of smokes,
Them sucker bucks are a sad sad joke.

So they call it “Quantitative Easin’,”
But it’s their skids they’re greasin’.
The Banksters keep on squeezin’,
And the workers take their beatin’.

We’re just tryin’ to make a livin’,
But we’re givin’ up on givin’
Our hopes or votes to more rich parasites.
It’s long past time that we adjust our sights.

If you make it from silver, or you make it from gold,
You’ll give it some value a man can hold.
If you give it some weight he can feel in his hand,
Then good’s good enough for the workin’ man.

Liz’ll Haunt Us  (6 June 2016) or There’s a hoax upon us —
Though she claims to be an eighth Cherokee,
A nicer Senator there’ll never be.
Donald Trump assails her integrity
And says, “She’s a goofus.”
Backroom deals and sleazy politics
Is how he plans to fool you rural hicks.
You keep falling for those shabby tricks.
Now! Who’s a goofus?

“We Adore Ya”  (11 November 2016)
Though Leonard never found the chord
That resonated with the horde,
He knew that the selective few would celebrate his point of view,
And we would all be singing “We adore ya!”

“Your body fails, your mind’s adrift, your soul receives its final lift
And you ascend to vaulted skies before ya.
We adore ya!”

“Oh, Raaaab!”  (27 January 2017)
Who just brought our mood down with “good-bye”?
Who just spent a lifetime showing
That she could do anything that she tried?
Well, she’s a Thoroughly Modern Icon,
In Sitcom Heaven they’re leaving the lights on!
Her humor is eternal do not mistake us.
Though tragedy abounds it does not break us!
We’re so much richer for the ride,
(bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp bomp)
We all just love Rob Petrie’s bride!

19 April 2017 —  He is The Asshole Who Speaks English,
But he doesn’t know what to say.
When you ask him, “How we doin’?”
He wants you to go away.
Because he knows that “we” is a pronoun
That always includes the speaker.
And the more that children misuse their tools,
The more their work gets weaker.

190611
Greeeeeeen Arrow is a groovy guy!
Not your ordinary super spy.
Shoots arrows with a boxing glove,
Dates Canary and calls her his lady love!

Tangled Legs Stupor — 17 March 2021 ( — by Doctor Staccato )
I know that I’m fine, and I know that I’m choice,
Said Cardi B’s girlfriend, but speaking of moist,
And speaking of pussy and fur patch and gash,
And writhing gyrations that give you a rash.
I don’t like to nag, but I’m telling you, Lez,
You sure do look hot wearing nothing but fez!

210317 — Vac Scene (meter stolen from Dolly Parton)
Hank Aaron put it to the test, and now he takes his final rest,
But you can’t blame it on our great vaccine.
Ol’ Marvin Hagler took his shot, and with us further he is not,
But it’s because you skeptics are so mean!
Vaccine!  Rapine!  It’s all obscene!
Please don’t shoot me up with RNA.
No unknown sera in my arm, I know you say it does no harm,
But you won’t say what side effects are seen.
It’s time that we just quit the whole vac’ scene!

191209 — Put on a Phony Face ( pique at the QuikkStopp™ )
Let’s not pretend we’re buddies, let’s not pretend we’re friends.
I want this nightmare over, when will it ever end?
Make your purchase, and get out the door,
And bug me tonight no more!

920401 – w/Drama Queen
Take off the dirty diapers, put on a happy butt!
Rinse out the baby wipers, put on a happy butt!
Spread pooties all over her face, and put on a happy butt!
A-ning, a-ning, a-ning a-ning a-ning!
( DQ suggested that people might call Child Services if they could hear us sing, but we seem to have gotten away with it.  Though she seemed to love our routine at the time, L’Historienne remains free to register her complaints or embarrassment, albeit three decades later. )

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A Krugie for Krugman?

As a fan of pageantry and poetry (and promotion, often a synthesis of both) and in anticipation of Mr Trump‘s announcement of his “Fake News Awards,” I wondered what to call them.

The Brawleys and the Krugies came quickly to mind, both being associated with notorious public deceptions about racist rapists and/or Keynesian numerology. Upon reflection I rejected them both in deference to The Mencken, after the master of fake news, who, with his bathtub story, exposed most “journalists” as lazy stenographers. Still, it doesn’t seem right. None of my candidates ever actually purported to be real reporters (okeh, maybe Mencken a little, but mainly he was an opinion monger, as is Krugman.) Really I should choose the name from among the many offending “reporters” on (and departed from) the scene.

Unfortunately, since El Donaldo awarded first place to Paul Krugman (a columnist and occasional prognosticator, neither of which are “news“), Krugie might have some standing. Precedence counts in both courts of law and of public opinion.

It begs the question, however. Again, since Krugman is not a reporter, his selection suggests that to The Panel of Judge officiating the Fake News Awards, “fake” is defined as “offensive to The Panel of Judge.”

But this too shall pass, and I should take heart. Perhaps the first Fake News Awards will go the way of the first Saturday Night Live, and a new precedent can be established more firmly.

There’s still hope for The Bri’nies, named for Brian Williams, of course, for whom I composed the following original poem, sung in the key of The Beach Boys.                        …180118…

Would it be unwise to tell a story,
How I risked my life to bring the news,
And would it be amiss to don the glory,
And disseminate my Leftist views?
I could sit and read my teleprompter,
Shot down in my helicopter,
Wouldn’t it be lies?

High and dry in Hurricane Katrina,
Not a thing to do.
It’s a non-starter!
I know, I
Could tell the world I saw a floating corpse or two,
In the French Quarter.
Come six months I think I’m in the clear, and
Live reporting from Waziristan,
Then, telling you more lies.

I could get a cushy desk job reading news for NBC,
I’d be on TeeVee!
Shilling for additional authority from ol’ DeeCee.
Isn’t it groovy?
On the screen with Chris and Rachel,
Honesty is just too stressful,
So we stick to lies!

150214