My wife was a very happy woman last week. If you’ve been paying attention to what I’m doing with this column, you may remember I did a very long column.
Right after I finished the article, I came down with a bug that, among other things, took my voice away. One and one-half weeks of silence, as best that term can ever be applied to me … and she didn’t have to put up with my jabbering.
But quiet time is over now. My voice is just about back, and I’m ready to roar.
That dang Mike McFeely and Jim Shaw of The Forum have been great at picking out subjects that I wanted to write about, too — but didn’t. because they are good, they are fast, and they have a 55-million-gallon press available to them to compete against the my laptop computer. But I’m learning.
While I was recovering, I had more spare time than I’m used to. I watched more TV news than I wanted to and picked out some observations.
When you watch Dirty Donald Trump (he of potty-mouth fame) prance his person onto any stage, balancing that bale of hay he calls hair and with his third wife at his side, watch as he proves the critics right.
To call him a male chauvinist pig would be an insult to the pigs. But he who demeans women and brags about it … he who tries to shame Hillary Clinton for staying married to President Clinton (apparently when one fails and then works to preserve a marriage that’s not good in his world) … he who claims all women love him … has proven a point.
He’s only been married three times, so I presume there were at least two divorces. What a first lady his current wife would make! If she can’t be described as “window dressing,” then there is no such thing.
Watch as he enters any stage, and she’s with him. He walks ahead of her. He doesn’t hug or hold hands (not a necessity, but other candidates do it). In effect, he pays no attention to her.
Melania, on the other hand, stands there prettily, looking at the children of his other wives who adorn the stage with them when he feels it appropriate. But he points out that bad old Jeb Bush has his mother with him and his brother supporting him.
So there is a double-standard here in trotting out the family. When Donny is done, he just walks off-camera. I don’t know what the hell she does.
If I were going to vote Republican, I wouldn’t vote at all unless John Kasich or Bush gets the nomination. The R’s presidential field is like a can of squirming worms. It’s all about who can brag loudest about how tough they are, how many different names each can call their opponents and how many hints of others’ scandals they can drop to the media through their campaign organizations.
The media, instead of demanding accountability, plans and proposals, let Dirty Donny and his Clown Show play them like a fiddle.
When Hillary Clinton and Bernie Sanders go at it, they propose specific plans. They stick to issues that impact real people. They sharply limit the character assassination comments and basically treat the American people to political debate as it ought to be.
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If the kinds of regular TV commercials flooding the airwaves don’t bother you, then either you don’t watch them, are extremely difficult to irritate or possibly live in a cave.
There’s nothing like sitting down to supper and watching that green glob of snot being murdered in the Mucinex ad. Poor little pile of goober … he just wanted to befriend the human in the ad. And for that he’s murdered?
Or you can watch the leaky-bladder underwear pad ads for men and women.
Now, anyone can have bladder problems for a number of reasons ― I do (tmi?) ― but I’ve never seen anyone wiggling their fannies while dancing like they’ve just won the lottery or had hot coals dropped in their panties or shorts, all to prove they can’t spring a leak.
Of course, if you’re in a great mood, you can always watch the Viagra ads. Some slinky gal in her nightgown looks at herself in a mirror, puts perfume on her wrist, strokes her face and then leaves the bathroom with a poop-eating grin on her face. It’s kind of kinky, because she’s always alone … no men in sight.
While said slinky manless lady is leaving the room, the medical warning runs under the suggestive video. Among other things, it warns, “If you have an erection that lasts for four hours, call your doctor.” Doctor, hell! If that happened to a normal man, he’d call a press conference! This might explain the absence of men in those commercials.
Then, there are the numerous pharmaceutical ads that describe the wonderful things the prescription will certainly accomplish then list all the harm the drug “could” cause. When you finish listening to the possible side effects, no one in his right mind would willingly take it.
I say, take all drug ads off the air! Rely on your actual physicians for drug advice, and then select a reputable druggist to have your prescriptions filled. Amen.