We rename things now. Here in godless Portland, a person could buy a house at the intersection of Portland Boulevard and 39th Avenue in 2009, and wake up today to discover she lives at the corner of Rosa Parks and Cesar Chavez. Here’s the very intersection. Sometimes the owners on all four corners go out front to organize themselves, and sit any damn where they want to. We approve of that sort of thing here, which is one reason the President has the National Guard on speed-tweet to send over on a moment’s notice to thump some lefty ass.
Speaking of renaming, he would probably prefer the title President-for-life. A horrifying prospect, but how long can that be? The only thing holding him up is hairspray and the wind whistling through his facial pores. But he’s been busy.
The tallest mountain in North America has been called Denali for about ten thousand years, except for a few minutes after 1896 when someone named it Mount McKinley in order to suck up to the president at the time. Sucking up to a president never really gets old.
“Hey you. Skippy. What kind of stupid name is Denali? African? Isn’t it a big white mountain?”
“For another few years, yes sir.”
“What was wrong with McKinley?”
“Nothing, sir, nothing at all. Great man. People are saying great things. Championed the gold standard.”
“Mmm, gold. Can we re-McKinley it?”
“You can, sir. It was Obama who changed it to Denali.” Skippy ducked as another lunch tray hit the wall. “I’ll put out the press release, sir.” Skippy scurried off, but reported back before the ketchup slid to the floor. “Done deal, sir, it’s McKinley again, and also, Google Maps just signed off on the Gulf of America.”
“I changed my mind. It’s the Golf of America now.”
“Branding, yes sir, very smart. Will there be anything else?”
There was. Each one punctuated by a thrown French fry.
The Panama Canal of America.
Greenland: Ivankastan.
Canada: Even Norther Dakota.
Skippy scribbled furiously.
“And I was thinking about the Grand Old Party. ‘Old.’ I don’t like it. Let’s change it. All the Republicans are in line, right?”
“110%, sir. Lock, stock, and cracker barrel. They bleed orange for you. They’re in the palm of your hand. And a very large hand it is, sir, the largest ever, like no one’s ever seen. It’s your party and you’re the indisputable head, sir.”
“Good. Because I don’t like that elephant either. They live in shithole countries. Also, not big enough. What’s bigger?”
“A whale, sir?”
“A whale. What do you think, Other Skippy?”
Other Skippy snapped to attention. “Elliott, sir.”
“You’re Skippy now. Well?”
“Much larger than an elephant, yes, sir. And some of them eat sharks. A sperm whale, maybe.”
“Sperm whale. I like that. I like that.”
Original Skippy scrambled for primacy. “Sperm whale!” He snapped his fingers. “You could name the party after the greatest sperm whale ever, the Great White Whale! Moby Dick!”
“Great White, huh?”
“I’ll put out the press release, sir.”
“We’ll need a flag. Big white whale. On a big blue field. Long red tie. And make sure it’s spouting.”
“Spouting powerfully, sir!”
It was done. The flag was ready that very evening for the announcement and photo op, with the entire Republican delegation arrayed in uniform in front of the banner, including the congressmen from the states of North and South Lester Maddox. And in center, directly in front of the spout, wearing the scowl of triumph, and standing nearly erect: the Moby Dickhead.
I’m glad that your post flies under Trump’s radar. He doesn’t NEED any more crazy or dangerous ideas. He has enough on his own.
And Musk getting all our financial information? That’s even scarier. I just started collecting on Paul’s SS, and it’s a lifeline for me. I’m worried that they may dismantle it. Also, how secure is our data, now that they have it?
Anyway, satire and reality have seemingly merged.
Gee, I guess I should be glad I have no Social Security to steal! Although a Civil Service pension looks plenty theftworthy for this crew.
“And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:—
“Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States.”
“Whaling voyage by one Ishmael.”
“BLOODY BATTLE IN AFGHANISTAN.”
Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces— though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment.”
Ishmael
from Chapter One
Curiously, this post does not appear in your Substack feed, or whatever it’s called. And I’m not saying just that I didn’t get the requisite email announcing it, I’m saying that when I go to Substack, it ain’t there. Yet? Here’s hoping I don’t have to figure out who to complain to about my subscription to something that isn’t being delivered…
Meanwhile, Moby Dickhead indeed.
He certainly puts the dick in dictator.
Oh that’s just because I’m not used to Substack yet and I accidentally didn’t set it off for 3am. 5:15pm, evidently, because I went in to change something at that hour, and it rescheduled itself. It’s in there now!
Yes! Got the email when I started up my ‘puter this morning. Phew!
Where’s an albatross when you need one?
An extra-long red albatross…
I’m trying hard to see some humor in our ‘current events’…I admire Murr for being able to conjure up some.
I have a goddaughter who’s grants have been taken away, she’s a post doc doing research on a cancer TCGA atlas, that would have helped identify types early.
My youngest is a grad student at the Henry Jackson School of International Studies at UW, her grants have gone.
I see us just meekly caving to the new nazi government, giving even less resistance that the Germans in 1933-4.
Wish I could laugh, but.
I got nothing, baby. Except mindless hope that springs…ah, internal.
I wish I could find humor in this, but I can’t. Things just get more troubling and surreal each day. The latest, Trump offering to take Gaza off Israel’s hands at least isn’t a problem for us at home, unless of course he decides that troops need to be sent to secure his new Riviera.
I’m rather unhappy at the moment because I discovered last night that the neighbor I’ve been cultivating as a friend is a heart deep Trump loyalist. Not sure how that was missed this long. I thought she was possibly not the brightest bulb in the pack but last night she asked me what Canada had done to warrant the tariff action. She was serious. She assumes that whatever Trump orders is justified. When I told her Trump was an asshole and an idiot, she told me that she was a Trump supporter. And that is the end of that friendship.
The protests have begun. #50501
Oh, Bruce! I’m sorry! This asshole has split up families and friendships. He’s added to MY depression, as seemingly to other people’s. Every morning, it’s like “What has he done now?” Sadly, there is always something new every morning. Fortunately, I live in a Blue state, and my neighbors/friends are Democrats. I’m sorry for your loss. Truly.
Bruce, we’ve been on pleasant terms with our next-door-neighbors for 30 years. I knew they were MAGA, and they know I’m a Democrat, and we were still able to interact nicely for the most part. My spouse, Joe, helped them complete a tree-house for their little girl. I gifted her a hand-made quilt for the treehouse. We agreed that they could open the gate between our backyards and let their dog in to play with our dog. We shared our lawn mowers when we needed to. But then they started flying a Confederate flag around the election and it’s still there. What a disgusting eyesore for our neighborhood, and a threat to others. And these people are public employees. A cop. A school bus driver. A public ed teacher. WTF
My spouse is able to ignore it and continue to be pleasant towards them. I will never speak to them again, unless it’s to tell them what I think of this.
Oh, Susan! This is horrible and maddening! I’m lucky to live in a blue state. My neighbors are mostly Democrat and sometimes even Atheists, so we have a lot in common. Sometimes, when I just KNOW that someone is MAGA from some of the things they say, I pivot the conversation to something else. Like an acquaintance who started about getting a vaccine just so she could go to bars and restaurants in her state (PA). I knew right then, she was MAGA. So I didn’t talk about vaccines. I talked about her local bars and restaurants: “Oh, yes! Malvern. What are your favorite places? And why?” By then, we were off to a different topic. Pivoting is a great way to still be friendly with people with opposing views.
I agree, and what you say has merit, and I’ve done so. But when their “opposing view” is that it’s OK to hate and threaten other people, and to celebrate depriving them of their human rights, and to champion violent insurrection against the United States government, I’m out. That’s all. They can think of it like a little tariff they get to pay. If they think at all.
I have to agree I would not be able to overlook the Confederate flag. I do think it’s important to be respectful and engage, but I’m not actually that good a person.
Agreed, totally.
Mobey Dickhead. I like that.
Satan is jealous. Every time Trump speaks or acts, he spouts, “I wish I’d thought of that!”
Great White Party —I can see DT going for that. Every day brings even more bizarre and disturbing news. Buy Gaza, kick everyone out, and make a new Riviera? WTF??How callous and naive. Spreading lies about how nasty Canada has been to the US has really gotten Canadians pissed off. We’re about to write a strongly worded letter to the White Star Line, to quote Jack in Titanic. And 51st state? Try adding 10 new BLUE states and three territories and see how that works out for the Whale party.
Had to chuckle at the grovelling Skippy’s.
The Grovelling Skippies would be a great band name.