What a beautiful couple we were. Really, you could have put us on an album cover. That album? It would have sold millions and millions and millions of copies. Best selling album in history. Captain and Tennille? Forget about ’em. We would have blown them out of the water. Losers.

That thing Ivana is wearing on her head?

Not a swim cap.
Not cancer.

Very European. Very classy. VERY expensive.

What do you think the thread count is on those sheets? 500? 800? Maybe 1000?

1200.
That’s right, 1200.
Egyptian cotton.
The finest in the world.

Ivanka is such a beautiful woman. So very talented. Have you seen her ski? Amazing. Could have been an Olympian if she wanted. But the truth is that she was never very good at art. Always used to hire other kids to do her drawings in school. This one was done by some Chinese. Ivanka, such a smart businesswoman. Her IQ might even be as high as mine. Such an improvement on her mother.

I was asked to do Playgirl. Many, many times. So many times I can’t even count. And the amount of money they offered me? You would not believe. The most ever. It was like the same amount they would have paid Jesus. Never did it, though. Didn’t like the idea of fruits getting off on me. Just disgusting, that. Anyway fruits, I guess today is your lucky day.

I get people to shave my chest now.

Bannon took me to that party a few years ago.

So much quality ass.

The ladies there had the best skin in the world. They were just as smooth as a bunch of billiard balls. Probably all used French moisturizers. I had sex with many, many of the girls that night– some with the masks, some without. It was hard work to stay hydrated.

Met Jamie Lee Curtis at a Planet Hollywood back in the 80’s.

Went on a date with her. Very uneventful, but let me tell you, those rumours of her having, you know, both sexes? Not true. All woman.

This is a more recent photo. Here I’m just roaming the White House late at night exploring. The place is really third rate. Desperately needs an update. If it was a contestant in a beauty contest? Boob, nose, eye job and liposuction just for starters. Reminds me. Walked in on one of the cleaning ladies changing the other day. You can do that when you’re President.

You think Obama didn’t?

C’mon!

**********************************

The other day President-elect Donald Trump gathered his cabinet together for a round of golf and some frank talk about America.

A transcript of their conversation in the locker room of Trump National Golf Course in Westchester, NY was leaked to the press:

*******************************

Wilbur Ross, Commerce Secretary:

Hey, you bitches know Florida, right?

General James “Mad Dog” Mattis, Defense Secretary:

Total smoke show.

Jeff Sessions, Attorney General:

That baby got back!

Mike Pence, Vice President-elect:

Testify!

Donald Trump, President-elect:

I love her coasts. Superb coasts. The best coasties in all of America. I love to get right in there, stick my face in the them and just splash them all around.

Reince Priebus, White House Chief of Staff:

It is no Russian propaganda that you sir, are the the greatest man on the planet!

Jeff Sessions, Attorney General:

You da man! Big dog always huntin’!

Ben Carson, Housing and Urban Development Secretary:

She ever let you into her Everglades?

Donald Trump, President-elect:

Let me tell you, her Everglades are very exclusive, like so, so super exclusive that you wouldn’t even believe, and let me tell you, I have been to her Everglades many, many, many times. She can’t get enough. When I’m with her, I make it rain.

Reince Priebus, White House Chief of Staff:

You’re the RainMaker, sir!

General James “Mad Dog” Mattis, Defense Secretary:

I once had a layover in Delaware. Did some real drilling there, let me tell you, yeah, some real drilling.

Donald Trump, President-elect:

Delaware?! She’s a village bicycle. Disease infested. Strictly bottom-rung. Not even a 6 out of 10.

Jeff Sessions, Attorney General:

Yo, you better get yourself checked by your doctor, could have the crabs.

Donald Trump, President-elect:

“Brain Surgeon!” Give The General here an examination, tell us if Delaware gave him the clap.

Ben Carson, Housing and Urban Development Secretary:

I can tell from here he’s got SDD, Small Dick Disease, and that it’s terminal!

Mike Pence, Vice President-elect:

That sick burn pleases the Lord!!

( High-fives and laughter from all)

Reince Priebus, White House Chief of Staff:

Anyone playing Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare?

Wilbur Ross, Commerce Secretary:

Fucking rules. Took three Ativan and played it for eight straight hours last night.

Reince Priebus, White House Chief of Staff:

Zombie mode is the tits!

Donald Trump, President-elect:

Okay, okay, girls, let’s focus. Listen up. Okay. There’s a black guy and a Mexican in a car. Who is driving?

(The cabinet is silent)

Donald Trump, President-elect:

The cop!!

(The cabinet howls with laughter!)

Jeff Sessions, Attorney General:

You got to Tweet that one, President-elect!

Donald Trump, President-elect:

Okay, who lost that round of golf? Was it Ross the Loss? No? “Brain Surgeon”? Was it you? Bad Hombre Priebus? No, okay we’ll make it Sloppy Second Pence. Pence you’re today’s loser and have to buy us all dinner. Has to be an exceptional meal, super exceptional, the very best, and if it is, I’ll bring out those Sarah Palin hot tub pics I was telling you about.

************************************

Rachelle: Is everything okay?

Rachelle: Oh.

Rachelle: Well, I don’t know why Netflix would be down.

Rachelle: But you’ve already seen Making a Murderer three times.

Rachelle: Yes, your thirst for justice is unusually obsessive.

Rachelle: No, strong. I wrote strong.

Rachelle: Must have been autocorrect.

Rachelle: Well, you’ll just have to be be brave, my love, I’m sure Netflix will be up and running soon and you can return to your Making a Murderer studies.

Rachelle: But tell me, how is Jones doing?!

Rachelle: Oh, he’s such a strong, little boy!

Rachelle: Well, you can’t take your eyes off him, you really can’t.

Rachelle: You should always be looking for his left.

Rachelle: Look, he always hits you with his left first. It’s his plan.

Rachelle: It’s not a dirty plan. He’s just a sweet, playful little boy!

Rachelle: So, just so you remember: The left comes first. And then when you’re dazed and trying to put your glasses back on, he will hit you with the right and then start kicking. Both feet. Every time, Pickle. You have to prepare for it.

Rachelle: I know he thinks it’s funny.

Rachelle: Well, I disagree, sometimes a bleeding nose can be very funny.

Rachelle: I know you get nose bleeds from the blood-thinning medication you’re on.

Rachelle: Sure. It’s not because Jones is stronger than you.

Rachelle: Yes, it is entirely possible you could still take Jones in a fight, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

Rachelle: He has muscle definition in his back. Do you?

Rachelle: So, he’s sleeping now then?

Rachelle: And you fed and changed him?

Rachelle: What does he look like sleeping? Does he look like an angel?

Rachelle: I don’t believe you’re in his room.

Rachelle: I think you just made that up.

Rachelle: He’s not talking in his sleep.

Rachelle: Send me a photograph of him sleeping.

Rachelle: Oh, you’re very clever.

Rachelle: I know you got over 130 on an online IQ test.

Rachelle: Pickle, you tell people you meet at parties that. You tell everybody that.

Rachelle: Yes, you are a genius, yet you still can’t drive or hold down a job. It’s fascinating, that.

Rachelle: Yes, the wildly misunderstood genius community is subject to a lot of bullying.

Rachelle: You’d think all those geniuses would be able to band together and cast a spell, but I guess I just don’t understand how genius works.

Rachelle: What?

Rachelle: Jesus.

Rachelle: Look, there is no way that Jones’ Exersaucer is haunted.

Rachelle: Yes.

Rachelle: It is creepy that it plays music of it’s own accord, and only when you’re in the room, but I don’t think it means it’s the Exersaucer of a dead child.

Rachelle: Well, no.

Rachelle: I don’t know the history of the Exersaucer.

Rachelle: Yes, I did buy it used.

Rachelle: Yes, so in theory it could have been sold by a grieving family that lost their child to a possessed and murderous Exersaucer.

Rachelle: I must say, watching Making a Murderer so obsessively really has really made you a better lawyer.

Rachelle: Netflix is back up, isn’t it?

Rachelle: I thought so.

Rachelle: Just don’t watch the horror stuff, okay?

Rachelle: It’s not good for you. Your doctors said so.

Rachelle: No, your doctors do understand genius.

Rachelle: Look, just throw a blanket over the Exersaucer if its scaring you!

Rachelle: Okay.

Rachelle: I will be back in about half an hour. You wanted the low sodium Triscuits, right?

Rachelle: Yes, I got it, LOW SODIUM.

Rachelle: Love you, see you and Jones soon, you’re doing great! xoxo

That was a bit of a kick in the junk, I tell you, but I’m not the sort of person who will let Big Government keep him down! With this in mind I have started an Adult Entertainment Film Company called Naughty America

and have been writing a series of pornographic scripts for American patriot and sex bomb county clerk Kim Davis, who gained international attention after defying a US federal court order requiring that she issue marriage licenses to same sex couples.

Script #1

(Kim Davis, wearing sweat pants and a sports bra is sitting in the stands at a baseball stadium drinking a beer and watching a young man take batting practice. It is early evening and it appears that Kim and the nubile athlete are the only people there. Sax music plays in the background.)

Kim: You’re just as black as night, aren’t you?

Baseball player: Un día voy a ser rico a través de mis esfuerzos , si Dios quiere.

Kim: (Takes off top and tosses her mullet) I like the way you handle that wood.

Baseball player: (Stops hitting, spits on the ground) I will sex with you once, $100, no lip touches.

Kim: Let it rain, baby, let it rain.

Script #2

(Mug Shot of Kim Davis, background slowly turning into an undulating American flag)

Voiceover: My name is Kim Davis and I’m an American patriot. When God said let there be marriage, he said it was between Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve, okay? I am a warrior for God, damn it, and if they put me in prison, well, they’re just putting me closer to God, so it’s really like a promotion. Like the Good Book says, “Then the Philistines seized him and gouged out his eyes; and they brought him down to Gaza and bound him with bronze chains, and he was a grinder in the prison. So there.”

(Fade out and then fade in to scene of Kim Davis naked in the shower. She is very slowly washing herself, and as this progresses, this slow, tender cleansing, she begins to speak to Jesus)

Kim: Clean me, sweet Jesus, clean the hell out of me. There Jesus, there’s a real dirty spot! Clean it, my divine Lord who looks just like Kid Rock, clean it faster!!

That’s it, that’s the purity I’m looking for sweet Lord, that’s it. Oh, you are a good and just Lord, amen, yes, amen!
Script #3

(Kim Davis is in a confessional, Pope Francis is listening on the other side)

Kim: Forgive me father for I have sinned. I am like, crazy turned-on by hot homo guys going at it. (Scene changes to gay sex between two men, while Kim’s voice continues her confession)

Oh, I like them when they’re smooth and when they’re hairy, I like how hard everything is and how they’re as powerful as America or a truck. (A naked Kim Davis is now in the scene with the men) It makes me want to roll around with them, to be their carpet and absorb everything!

Pope Francis: It sounds as if the fever dream a young priest once told unto me in a quiet and dark nook of the Vatican. In his telling, the Rosary beads were for more than just praying, they became a conduit to truly transcendent, Godly feeling. Oh, Brother William, I miss him so.

While he currently holds a job as a Toronto City Councillor, he also works as an onsite volunteer at the Humane Society where his duties including dog walking, bottle feeding (kittens and some birds) and much, much more. However, this is not enough for the man and he has just started a weekly Advice Column for the media giant BuzzFeed:

ASK THE EX-MAYOR

Dear Ex-Mayor:

I am a HUGE Game of Thrones fan!!! Do you really think Jon Snow is dead? I don’t want him to be dead. He can’t be dead. Please don’t let him be dead!!

Super fan from Vaughan

A: My brother Doug and I are massive fans of The Game. Just huge. It’s one of the few shows that’s able to mix sex, nudity and violence with class, and it’s wholesome enough that you can watch it with your kids, too. Good life lessons in GOT, good life lessons. Five out of five on the Rob-O-Meter.

Kinda reminds me of Miami Vice in that way. You could always count on Crockett and Tubbs ( Remember to take the BuzzFeed quiz: Are you Crockett or Tubbs?) to teach you right from wrong.

My brother Doug and I used to watch that show all the time. We dressed up as ’em for Halloween, too, and always used to get in a fist fight over who got to be Crockett. Doug always won because he was the eldest, but it didn’t bother me too much, because I liked dressing up in black face and speaking in that crazy Jamaican accent. Didn’t know that wasn’t considered “politically correct” until after I was mayor. Whatever. People don’t know how to have fun.

Those were good times, though. Miss the good times. Miss ’em pretty bad.

Anyway, I don’t think that Jon Snow is dead. They did something weird with his eyes at the end and I think that means he went to live in his wolf-slave, or that maybe he’s returning as a White Walker, so don’t despair Super Fan!
Dear Ex-Mayor:

I’ve been dating a terrific guy for six months. We have a lot of interests in common and I love spending time with him, but lately I’ve been feeling that our core values aren’t aligned. I’m a lifelong Christian and I know what is right and wrong biblically. He’s a Christian too, but he told me that he lost his virginity and has no regrets about it even though he knows it’s religiously wrong. This upsets me because as a Christian I know premarital sex is not allowed. He’s a good man and I don’t want to lose him, but he’s sinning! What should I do?

Conflicted Christian

A: The one thing we know about Jesus, other than that he had a beard, is that he’s forgives EVERYTHING. He recently forgave me all my Ashley Madison sins, and my wife, whom Jesus had put in a pretty tight corner by forgiving me so quickly, had to cut me some friggin’ slack, too, as she knew I had Godly absolution. I tell you, the holy Lord is the best goddamn lawyer of all time.

But for Jesus to forgive your sins of the flesh, you first have to make ’em. So, whatever you do, whether you decide to remain true to your faith and only give your man a hand job, or if you cave in and screw his brains out with U2 blasting, Jesus will still think you’re cool! He’ll give you the keys to his kingdom whatever you do! I know it’s weird, but it’s true. I tell you, Jesus is a bloody rock star, the Bono of his time.

You’re gold, Conflicted Christian, so sex it up!
Dear Ex-Mayor:

How do I come out to my homophobic parents?

Anonymous, age 15
A:

You’re a fruit, eh?

Geez.

Boy, don’t know what to tell you.

Really scratching my head here.

I guess it all just kind of grosses me out. Don’t want to think about it and have those images in my head. Anyway, good luck and go Blue Jays!

“This is not just a metaphor for my time as mayor, but for life. It’s a struggle, it’s always a battle, but even when it’s -2 out and all you want to do is watch YouTube videos in bed and drink Gatorade, you have to get up, go out there and work to make the world a better place. As the great and controversial Japanese author Haruki Murakami said, “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.”

“Ah geez, I don’t remember this one. It looks like I’m with Jesus. Maybe a parade?”

“Couldn’t believe how frigging big that owl was! Truth be told, I was kind of scared of the thing, but in politics, as in life, you have to overcome your fears, and I did. I looked that owl in the eyes and said to myself, “Mr. Owl, I respect you, but I am not afraid of you, not even if you do that Exorcist thing with your head. You shall have no dominion over me!” And even though I am a man and the owl is a bird creature, and I was speaking in my head, it’s like the owl “got” what I was saying. We came to an understanding and I overcame my fear of that owl. That’s what politics is all about.”

“I remember that day! It’s the small moments that comprise a life, isn’t it? I had to take the TTC because my driver had been arrested for something, forget what. Anyway, I’m a man of the people and had been talking to everybody, learning about them, and then I had a moment to myself, some quiet time for reflection, and I was thinking about my fantasy football team and how to make Toronto a better city. That’s when the Ferris wheel idea came to me.”

“This is one of my favourite moments from all my time in office. For a brief instance, we were all able to put aside our differences and come together as one. It was beautiful, man, just beautiful. One love, that’s what it’s all about, one love. That’s how I’d like my years as Mayor of Toronto to be remembered. When I was mayor, Toronto was the city that danced like nobody was watching.”

“I was looking up at that sculpture of the rat, and it looked to me like it had been decapitated and its head had just been put up on a spit as a trophy, everybody laughing. I don’t know why, but I was suddenly overcome by an empathy for the creature and I just wanted to reach out and touch its face, let it know that it was loved.”

Day 1:

I am grateful that we are wealthy enough to hire a house cleaner.

I am grateful that Albina, our house cleaner, always changes from her street clothes into her work clothes in the living room. It’s provocative and edgy. It doesn’t matter what she looks like, it just shakes up the day, you know?

I am grateful for sharks, as they have starred in a lot of cool movies and television programming.

Day 2:

I am grateful that it is now socially acceptable for a man to carry a “murse” and not have to sit on his wallet all day. Sitting on a wallet is like having to sit on a Club Sandwich all day.

I am grateful that I am very athletic and am not a nerd.

I am grateful for the invention of yoga pants.

Day 3:

I am grateful for the TV show Nashville, which is fucking awesome.

I am grateful that I don’t have to read very much for my job.

I am grateful that we don’t live with a ghost in our apartment, that would really dampen the quality of our life, I think.

Day 4:

I am grateful that I am wealthy enough to buy prestigious clothes and look really good when I go out.

I am grateful that I am really, really popular, as I was in high school.

I am grateful for the good governance and fiscal responsibility that guides Canada as a nation.

Day 5:

I am grateful for the beautiful autumn leaves.

I am grateful that BB King is my uncle. I have learned a lot from him.

I am grateful for heating pads.

Day 6:

I am grateful for unexpected Scratch N’ Win victories!

I am grateful that the LCBO is just down the street.

I am grateful that none of my erotic selfies have been leaked to the public.

Day 7:

All praise and love to Jesus, our LORD and SAVIOUR! I am grateful to him for the abundant gifts he has given me. PRAISE!!

I am grateful for celebrities.

I am grateful for peanuts, particularly dry roasted peanuts.

The girl working the cash was young and seemed excited by her job, exuding a manner that suggested she brought a great rush of enthusiasm and competence to everything she did. Cheery, even encouraging, she practically told me the story of each item I was buying, health and optimism radiating from her like sunlight.

On Dupont, a lovely, young Indian woman in Lycra yoga gear was doing some modest stretches against the steps near a restaurant. It wasn’t accidentally beautiful, there was some intent to her actions, but it was close. However, every time a man walked down the sidewalk she tensed up and became anxious, just waiting for something unpleasant to happen, for some guy to say something that was going to ruin her fragile day.

And as she did some calf stretches, a young woman proudly walked past her. She was swinging her arms and there was a spring in her step. She was feeling good, like a world-beater, and she was wearing a vivid, bright red t-shirt that said, “This is my Jesus year,” animated by her faith, an unknowable courage seemed to be guiding her through the day.

Her legs had been amputated just above the knees and parts of her fingers were missing, too. The area where her fingers stumped were swollen, red and bleeding, and smears of blood were all over her sweatpants, jacket and the two bags of cat food she was looking to buy. He hair was a dangerous nest of possibility and her eyes were angry and lost. She was talking, in a fractured but not incoherent kind of way, but it wasn’t clear to whom, and as she was doing this she was cutting the line. The security guard, moving in an I-hate-my-job way, was coming over to stop her, while the cashier, with a look of horror on her face, recoiled.

I did not know what I should do. The suffering and need of this woman could not be more vivid. I wanted to be Jesus, I wanted to selflessly love and help her, but I did not.

I stood there paralyzed, thinking about the blood-streaked bags of cat food on her lap and how they were going to get from there to the cash. I did not want to be a part of that process and so I decided to buy the cat food for her. This cost $4. I did this out of self-interest rather than altruism. The cashier and everybody in line seemed relieved.

Then one of the bags fell from her lap to the floor– as if a bell tolling, a command to be more involved in her suffering than I was willing to be. Again, I just stood there, waiting for somebody else to become alive to this moment, and then I saw something in her hands that looked a lipstick container and it struck me that perhaps this was all a performance and she had smeared lipstick on herself in order to look like blood and garner sympathy! It was an act!

It was an astonishing cognitive leap, this. There are homeless, broken people all over Toronto, and in order to inure ourselves to this procession of misery, we have to believe there’s a level of performance to the suffering. We construct ridiculous narratives that keep us distant from those asking for our help. Maybe it was all just a ruse, but no, no. This woman needed to buy cat food– either to eat or to feed to the one point of light in her life–and there was blood all over it and it was lying on the floor two feet from where I stood.

For what felt like a minute but was probably closer to 20 seconds, nobody did a thing, and then a woman bent down and with a gloved hand picked up the bag of cat food and returned it to the woman’s lap, the security guard then rolled the panhandler out, and the rest of us continued with our day as if nothing had happened.

michaelmurrayca: We’re finally leaving the cold, dark ice cave of Toronto!

michaelmurrayca: First, passing through the Rosedale Valley of Death. The forest is looming bent and horrible over road, like tree in Poltergeist.

michaelmurrayca: Oh. All of Toronto also fleeing apocalypse city.

michaelmurrayca: Avoid highway unless you find tranquility in stillness. Move through car wash at much greater velocity.

michaelmurrayca: Red tail lights in front of us stretching from here to Mordor. # LikeDeathLava

michaelmurrayca: Time of winter day when everything is the same colour– even salt-wretched cars in traffic jam.

michaelmurrayca: Now moving like pre-twilight wolves through landscape! Oh. Never mind. Traffic jam again. #BoxingDayBestDayOfYear

michaelmurrayca: Empty, Dark Onroutes, like post-apocalyptic tumble weeds, litter the side of highway like reminder of life we once knew.

michaelmurrayca: Very hungry. #Hangry

michaelmurrayca: Port Hope Pizza Pizza is a crime scene. 40 customers, 1 employee. #ThereWillBeBlood

michaelmurrayca: Now full of McDonald Happy Meal. You know how I feel.

michaelmurrayca: Now trapped in an actual parking lot. Feel like punching things.

michaelmurrayca: Now moving as fast as flying dolphins! Our lives redeemed!

michaelmurrayca: Flying dolphins tricked into traffic jam cove! Hate tricks!

michaelmurrayca: 3 hours 46 minutes to not yet Belleville.

michaelmurrayca: My wife doesn’t so much like me playing Nick Cave in a traffic crisis.# BadTasteWife!

michaelmurrayca: Can’t believe wife doesn’t like listening to Sting! # WhoIsThisWoman?

michaelmurrayca: Now playing girl music. #MarriageTipsForTrafficJam

michaelmurrayca: Retract usage of “girl music,” meant “good music.” Very lucky to have wife like Rachelle!#MarriageProTip

michaelmurrayca: Apparently I “yell” when I speak on the phone, and ” should have gotten your (my) fucking driver’s license decades ago.”# whatever

michaelmurrayca: Stony silence for an hour and a half good for both our morale.

michaelmurrayca: Now listening to Christian motivational CD. God wants us to succeed.

michaelmurrayca: Let Jesus be your co-pilot, says voice on CD. No idea how to apply that to a traffic jam.# UselessChristianTips

michaelmurrayca: If I was King of Kings, would create traffic removal trucks instead of just snow removal trucks. #UsefulThingsGodCouldDo

michaelmurrayca: Also, if King of Kings would move Toronto and Ottawa closer together. 3 hour trip regardless of transportation method. #SoSayethTheLord

michaelmurrayca: Just didn’t expect to hit a deer while in a traffic jam. Very demoralizing, especially since deer Rachelle’s spirit guide.

michaelmurrayca:  Pretty sure Christmas now very, very ruined.

michaelmurrayca: Very dark stretch of the road, like Cormac McCarthy novel only without spears and fancy language.

michaelmurrayca: Traffic loosening up after Kingston, but now icy and douche trucks everywhere!!

michaelmurrayca: We both tried to love you and the world the best we could!