Junior Trump Elephant Tail

It seems Donald Trump’s sons Eric and Donald Jr. fancy themselves big game hunters.

Pompous buffoon Donald Jr. posted on Twitter –

“I’m a hunter, for that I make no apologies,” Donald Trump Jr. said on Twitter. “I can assure you it was not wasteful the villagers were so happy for the meat which they don’t often get to eat,” he later added.


Expelling  mouthfuls of Donald Jr. Tweet vomit led to accepting the obvious – these people exist in a bubble, so far removed from reality as to consider their actions honorable. “Villagers were so happy for the meat which they don’t often get to eat”, I’m not sure which is worse – believing this crock of shit absolves them of guilt, or expecting us to admire clown antics of pretentious Trump princes.

Look at this moron. Donald Jr. mustering his very best Rambo, insipid little rich boy playing big man with his impeccable khakis, hunting knife, bullet belt and elephant tail trophy. What an asshole.


How To Make An Impression

What a strange day. Work started at 8:30 am – 70th birthday party for the father of a repeat client,  booked by a woman insisting I personally handle festivities. Truth is lasting impressions are common, I’m good at my job. Meeting hundreds of clients a year, committing each name to memory isn’t a priority. No worries, if greeting her face to face doesn’t kindle a spark she won’t suspect otherwise.

A genuine “hello, so nice to see you ” left my lips. “How long has it been?”. She answered – “eleven months, let me find my husband and children, I want you to see the baby” – oh man, just enough time for a love my job happy dance. Off she went, oblivious to her place on my impression list.

Eleven months ago she booked a “birthday” party – 70 guests, generous selection of stationed cocktail reception food, birthday cake – standard family party. A heads up regarding relevant details would have been nice. “Guests 5-7 pm” isn’t the same as “you can’t serve anyone until the Rabbi circumcises my son, blesses the food and breaks bread”. OK – good to know.

Adaptability is my middle name – hardly the first, certainly not the last event to stray off course, but what impressed client to ask for me by name almost a year later? Bah, doesn’t matter! Her name meant n0thing, seeing her delivered – “pinch me now, it doesn’t  get better than this!”

I wonder if she knows our first encounter is legendary? Not for omitting details of the Bris – in my line of work that’s another day at the office. Her legend wasn’t born during the party, it grew from something left behind.

If ever in doubt as to how to make a impression, let me assure you – a coffee cup of foreskin and bloody gauze will suffice. No point in calling out “excuse me, you forgot something”, goodbye pleasantries had been exchanged. Standing alone, cup of foreskin in hand, several thoughts came to mind. Was this usual practice? An oversight? Might they return in panicked haste to retrieve it?

Twenty minutes clean up, one minor detail before walking out the door. Tossing coffee cup in the garbage bin, I drove away pondering the absurdity of  believing it socially acceptable to leave the caterer a cup of bloody gauze and snipped bits. Regardless, I made a positive impression, an imprint void of coffee cup acknowledgements or comprehension of the lasting impression stamped on me.






Revisiting Across The Universe

Julie Taymor’s 2007 musical masterpiece Across The Universe dominates my top ten list. Never before or since have I left a theatre  wearing unabashed joy from ear to ear. Gob smacked patrons bound by a collective aura of measurable energy, stepped out with enlightened strides of purpose. Wikipedia link below details the premise, misses the magic –


ATU opens with soft footsteps – a love story set in 1960’s America, unknown actors singing Beatles songs. Captivated by cinematography and stunning Beatles covers, audience members barely notice Taymor’s seamless punch of trans formative anti war and civil rights protest. Riveted to our seats, witness to the glaring relevance of Vietnam era America in our modern world. Brilliant. If you haven’t seen it, make a point of seeking it out. I get goosebumps watching this –



40th And 47th

Today, July 20 marks anniversaries of two cosmic milestones. The 40th anniversary of Viking 1’s historic first landing on Mars, 47 years to the day since Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong landed Apollo 11 on the Moon. Apollo 11 served the Sea of Tranquility to wide eyed witnesses of science eclipsing fiction. In my life nothing technology has to offer comes close to emotions evoked by the dawn of space exploration. I consider every modern marvel a product of humanity’s quest to unravel our universe.

The world watched on television as Neil Armstrong took the first steps on the moon's surface on July 20, 1969. It was the first time humans walked another world. As he stepped onto the lunar surface, Armstrong said,

The world watched on television as Neil Armstrong took the first steps on the moon’s surface on July 20, 1969. It was the first time humans walked another world. As he stepped onto the lunar surface, Armstrong said, “That is one small step for [a] man, one giant leap for mankind.”

View full image. | First photograph ever taken from surface of Mars, by the Viking 1 lander shortly after it touched down on July 20, 1976. Image via NASA.

View full image. | First photograph ever taken from Mars’ surface, by Viking 1 shortly after it landed on July 20, 1976. One of the lander’s footpads is seen at the lower right. Image via NASA.

For the next three and a half minutes ponder The Most Astounding Fact by Neil deGrasse Tyson –

Fat Deck Widow

Last night I met the biggest baddest Black Widow spider. In polite residence behind a flower pot, she exhibited outrage when my broom swept her onto the deck. Stopped in my tracks, this was no ordinary widow. Reflex trumped reason, instinct called for capture. There I stood, mesmerized by the cup of deck widow in my hand. Behemoth is an understatement, abdomens of bedroom, kitchen and basement widows combined wouldn’t equal the girth of deck widow’s belly. Now what?

Couldn’t say how much time lapsed between scrutinizing her magnificence and impulsively running downstairs to show my husband. ” Caught the biggest widow I’ve ever seen” – no match for “Are you crazy? Kill it!”. What was I thinking – he’s snakes I’m spiders, together we have it covered and obviously the two will never meet. “Relax, I’ll take care of it”.

Logically, deck widow needed a new home. Not all arachnids can be trusted, sometimes spiders call for catch and release. Cup in hand I crossed the street, depositing deck widow on the sidewalk for one last look.  The couple walking their dog couldn’t hide assumptions I was out of my mind. Intent on capturing photos with my phone, they didn’t ask, nor did I explain deck widow was one bad ass spider.

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Define “Great”

Donald Trump’s presidential aspirations march to the beat of “make America great again”. Pardon my ignorance but which model of American greatness does Trump pine for? Does he yearn for America before the civil rights movement ruined everything? Was America great when African Americans knew their place? Might America have been great when entitled white boys avoided the Vietnam draft, conspicuously absent while America forced countless impoverished white and minority citizens to die fighting a pointless war? Did the torch of greatness wane when dastardly liberals insisted women deserve equal pay for equal work?

Wait a minute – I’ll ask a Trump supporter on Quora, Quora’s strict moderation demands polite sincerity, all I need is a straight answer. Oh crap, what was I thinking? America was “great” before Barrack Obama, Obama ruined everything America holds dear. WTF you raving Trump supporter lunatic! I’m dangerously worked up – read this explanation of America’s lost greatness and feel my pain ….

“Its logical to say that America didn’t stop being “great” in one day, right? Therefore there technically wasn’t a date when is stopped being great. I believe that Donald Trump thinks that America stopped being great when all of its values such as freedom of speech, etc. started going down the drain. So I believe that American started to deteriorate its “greatness” when Barrack Obama became president.

First he managed to double the US’s national debt within his eight years of presidency of the debt of all the past presidents of America. The national debt started around the American revolution which let’s say was around the late 1700’s. When he became president, which was centuries later, he went from around 10 trillion, to a whole 20 trillion!

Also, Obama encourages the Black Lives matter group. It is good to give equal rights to all races, but when supporting that group, it increases the tension between all races and between police officers and citizens, and leads to much, much trouble.


I could go on and on, but to wrap it up, the America that once existed was a country that didn’t even think about races, genders, or any other way of grouping people, and treated everyone equally. Where you could speak your mind, without getting blamed for what you believe in. Where the values that built America are used in everyday life.

That, is the “great” America, that Trump believes is possible.”


Friday Night Covers

Truth be told, cover songs are an obsession. Not the debilitating obsessive compulsive sort; more the kick back, work doesn’t beckon till 2 pm Saturday afternoon kind. In my world diversionary cover quests are like panning for gold, every so often a nugget winks back. Most valuable – songs I wasn’t looking for, covers transforming ordinary to extraordinary. Bells ring when covers of radio station changing originals smack me in the face. A classic example –

Searching for cover breaks my heart one moment, warms it the next. Ponder this –

A handful twinkle brilliantly beside originals from the soundtrack of my life –

Very late now, Friday night cover concludes with Playing For Change covering Bob Marley –

Once Upon A Time….


If you know the story of Mary Poppins  you’ll know that the children could only understand what the birds were saying when they were very young. Open hearts and minds; unfettered by responsibility, or yearning to be anything other than what they were; gave them a portal to endless wonders. Explanations were unnecessary – imagination a tool rather than a task. Peter Pan never grew up, Alice disappeared down a rabbit hole, and Dorothy travelled to Oz.

My early years were spent in those places. Never bored or at a loss for what to do, nothing seemed impossible. I devoured Greek mythology,  could name every constellation in the night sky. There were forts to build, tunnels to dig, hollow logs to explore. I wasn’t afraid of trolls or goblins, I knew how to avoid their tricks. Fairies danced for me every evening, certain it was just a matter of time until they invited me for tea.


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Pokemon Go

Dialed middle son this afternoon, hadn’t talked in a few days and wanted to know if he knew about Pokemon Go. Raucous laughter took a moment to subside, gaining composure he replied ” I’m on the seawall hunting Pokemon”. What was I thinking? Of course you are.

He was six in 1995, the year Nintendo solidified Japanese anime in popular culture. The premise was simple – mythical Pokemon were not created equal, each one has unique abilities, basic powers were varied but common, all powerful Pokemon existed but were extremely rare.  Human “trainers” captured Pokemon pitting one against the other in “battles”. Players started with a basic Pokemon, climbing levels as they acquired Pokemon and won battles.

As lone non-gamer in the household, it wouldn’t be fair to attempt discussion of Pokemon’s popularity. As a parent who fulfilled Nintendo Christmas wishes, drove kids to comic book stores to spend allowance on Pokemon trading cards, bought Pokemon pajamas, bedding, toys and lunch boxes – I “get” masterful simplicity capable of crowning Pokemon the second most lucrative game/media franchise in the world after Super Mario Brothers. As of September 2015, global revenue of 40.5 billion U.S. speaks to global phenomenon.


Last week Nintendo released Pokemon Go in a format dubbed “augmented reality”. Forget hand held controllers tied to television screens, Pokemon Go uses cell phone GPS to transform a player’s location into the matrix. “Go” is a literal term, play takes place in the real world. Ponder “real world” – get off the sofa, go play outside. The game knows where you are and what time it is, dispatching Pokemon accordingly. Locations where battles take place are called “gyms”. I won’t claim to understand intricacies, but had to laugh when reading Westboro Baptist Church, the den of U.S. abortion, homosexual and racial intolerance is ruled by pink Pokemon “Clefairy”. In accordance with game rules, nicked named “love is love” by the current gym leader.

Back to middle son. This afternoon he walked the seawall hunting Pokemon, late last night a twenty minute walk to join players in a local park. Apparently the game tracks distance – walking 10 kilometers allows players to “hatch” rare Pokemon. Calling his behavior uncharacteristic is putting it mildly.

Late this evening youngest son told me something that prompted another call to middle son, asking him “how did you download the game, it hasn’t been released in Canada?” Fervent hullabaloo clouded the fact Pokemon Go was only released in the United States, Australia and New Zealand. His answer left me feeling middle aged. No closer to understanding how to pirate  video games, I knew one thing for certain – Pokemon Go was worth the effort. Augmented is the new reality of gaming, I don’t have to play games to know Pokemon Go single-handily revolutionized the future of entertainment.