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

Me: No, I haven’t heard back from Nancy.

Me: Well, I can’t think of any reason why she wouldn’t want to do it. It’s an awesome idea!

Me: She owns a cheese shop, so me setting up a grilled cheese booth in there is a no-brainer!

Me: It’s win/win, baby!

Me: Well, I thought I’d pick up one of those Instant Pot things and cook them in there.

Me: Oh.

Me: Really?

Me: The Instant Pot can’t make grilled cheese sandwiches?

Me: Why isn’t that on their advertising?

Me: Well, that sucks.

Me: Thought it could do practically everything.

Me: Yeah, I guess I did kind of imagine it like a robot.

Me: No, not like that.

Me: A benevolent robot, one that serves man, AND is capable of making a grilled cheese sandwich.

Me: Well, if it can’t make a damn sandwich, why the hell was it named Time Magazine’s Person of the year??

Me: Oh, I thought it was.

Me: The Silence Breakers were?

Me: I don’t know who they are.

Me: Oh.

Me: Yes, they are very brave women. #TimesUp

Me: I am an ally.

Me: Look, we’ve been through this before.

Me: Feminism is many things, many voices–and my collection of vintage Raquel Welch memorabilia doesn’t make me a “Bad Feminist.”

Me: It makes me an ally.

Me: No, not a creep, an ally.

Me: Well, let me tell you, I’d be delighted if she exploited me back.

Me: I really would.

Me: Oh, don’t act so innocent!

Me: You know you want to be exploited by Colin Farrell.

Me: I saw how many times you watched that Miami Vice movie, and I saw the way your eyes got all weird and intense whenever that greasy Crockett came on screen!

Me: I can’t believe you just wrote that!

Me: You’ve stopped going to your low carb support group, haven’t you?

Me: You were very high in agreeability when you were eating carbs.

Me: Now, not so much.

Me: The Rachelle Maynard I know (and love!) would never have said something like that to me if she was properly managing her carb withdrawal.

Me: Yes.

Me: Yes.

Me: I can see that now.

Me: I am sorry.

Me: I love you way more than I could ever love Raquel Welch.

Me: If I had a poster of you, I’d put it up over the fireplace. I’d wallpaper the entire apartment in you if I could!

Me: No, not like a serial killer.

Me: Like I’m your Crockett and you’re my Tubbs.

Me: We mustn’t let Trump divide us, my love.

Me: It’s what he wants.

1:40 P.M. EDT

MR. SPICER: Good afternoon. First off, yes, it’s true. Arby’s will officially be designated “America’s Roast Beef, Yes Sir!” After expert negotiations, President Trump will be signing an executive order this afternoon that will establish a formal marketing partnership between Arby’s and the United States of America. We hope and expect that this will prove mutually beneficial to both parties for years to come.

On a personal note I want to say that I worked at an Arby’s when I was a teenager growing up in Rhode Island back in the 80’s. We used to have quite a few vacationing gays come in looking for an affordable and delicious meal, and although most people were scared of their disease, I never had a problem with them.

I found them to be a very tidy people. You could always tell which table they’d been eating at because it was just so clean.

Anyhow, Arby’s makes the best sandwich in America, as President Trump knows, and if you’re ever driving by an Arby’s you should stop and try one of their Roast Beef Gyro’s.

The classic thinly sliced roast beef is topped with lettuce, onions and tomatoes, cool creamy tzatziki sauce, and authentic Greek seasonings all hugged by a warm pita. Nothing says “I am an adventurous eater and interesting person” like eating a gyro at Arby’s.

$4.29.

A great deal. The kind of deal that only President Donald Trump could negotiate for America.

You’d be an idiot not to buy that gyro.

A real, goddamned idiot.

On another note, drug abuse has crippled communities across this nation. In 2015, more than 52,000 Americans — that’s 144 people a day — died from a drug overdose. And a lot of those people were white. Keep in mind that this all happened under Barack Obama’s watch. I’m not saying he orchestrated this White Holocaust– although we have received a variety of intelligence reports indicating that might be the case– I’m just pointing out the facts so that you can make up your own minds.

Okay press monkeys, let’s play a game.

I want you now to imagine that terrorists killed 144 predominately white Americans each day. Imagine them in their orange jumpers. On fire in cages and stuff.

If that was the case there wouldn’t be a terrorist left on the planet under this administration. We would have killed them all. And their families. Even their pitiful animals. But as you know, you can’t always drop a bomb on your problems, perhaps even more so when those problems belong to your own people, and so President Trump is working on a joint initiative with Pfizer to create a new and safer opiate for all the despairing Americans who lost their manufacturing jobs to illegals. Pfizer, an exemplary company with revenues exceeding 50 billion per year, will be familiar to many of you in the press corps because you gobble Zoloft and Viagra like candy.

If it wasn’t for Pfizer, half of you would be on the street.

In other new, President Trump has Tweeted Direct Messages to the King of Saudi Arabia, the Prime Minister of Japan and the Acting President of South Korea concerning the United States’ military strike on the airfield in Syria, and oh, look, there’s Ivanka!

What a vision in a floral print!

Stunning, just stunning.

That Ivanka Trump line is really something else!

Let’s give her a round of applause!

Okay, we’ve run out of time and the questions will have to wait for another time! Please help yourself to the Arby’s spread at the back of the room! Thank you all very much for attending!

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

Fantastic turnout here.

Just light’s out.

You’re a great, great crowd, a very smart crowd, and I want to thank you all for coming out in such huge numbers to hear me speak. What’s that? Wow. My people are telling me that there are thousands more waiting outside. In the rain. Terrifying lightning flying around, too, and the sort of giant thunder that scares dogs. These people don’t care. No, they’re happy to risk their lives. They just want to be close to greatness and pay their respects. Real Americans, those people. I love them just as much as they love me. Well, maybe just a little bit less– let’s be honest– but still, I give them huge, huge amounts of love.

Of course, the media will make up lies about this turnout, just like they did at the inauguration.

So dishonest.
No conscience at all.
Lazy perverts.

They’d even stoop to blacken the memory of Mary Tyler Moore just to push their liberal agenda. Makes me want to throw-up.

But you know who doesn’t want to make me throw-up?

Mary Tyler Moore.

So beautiful.
So classy.
Such manners.
A real tribute to her race.
A true 9 out of 10.

It’s hard to believe she was taken before Crooked Hillary. Crooked Hillary who is so sick and weak and has those big bug eyes that always make it look like her head is going to explode. And those coughing fits? Awful. Why couldn’t death just take her? Yesterday’s news. She’ll probably be the next to go anyway. .. And then Bill. Both in such poor, poor health. Sad. Thankfully, I don’t have that problem. I am in excellent health. Best health of any President in the history of America.

It’s a fact.
Never had a drink in my life.
And no drugs either.

And let me tell you, it’s not like I didn’t have opportunity.

I had big time opportunity.

Mary, Mary liked to drink. It’s true. She struggled with it, but it didn’t matter because she really could turn the world on with her smile.

She really could.
Honestly.
No lie.

She could also do it with her ass.

Sweet Jesus, what a caboose!

You’re all probably wondering, did I?

A gentleman never tells, but let me just say that I bounced quarters off that ass. It should have been classified as a secret weapon because that ass could topple regimes. If I had sent Mary, the vintage Mary, young, like when she was doing the Dick Van Dyke Show,

into one of those pathetic, little airport protests, everyone would have seen her ass and just forgotten where they were. Seriously.

You couldn’t say the same for Rhoda.

Oy vey!

No, Mary was the real deal, the one and only.

Mary, and I can give her no higher compliment, was a real star– the Ivanka of her times– and America and her allies, will miss her.

We’re holding up pencils, trading memes about not giving in to fear and bravely demanding news agencies reprint the Charlie Hedbo cartoons, often from the comfort of our sofas while watching The Mindy Project or the hockey game. We’re warriors for free speech and we will not be silenced.

It’s ironic that our courage for free speech is predicated largely upon being able to express it through the distant, quasi-anonymous medium of social media, and it’s even more ironic that the massacre in Paris has only an optical relationship to free speech rather than a substantive one.

It seems unlikely that there’s a single person in the West who believes that curtailing free speech in order to placate terrorism is a tolerable, let alone debatable idea. The cartoons in question will go on to colonize the world, and we will gather together by the thousands in public squares to safeguard our liberties. Free speech will not die, not on our watch.

We should presume that the people responsible for these murders knew that this would be the outcome. It is, after all, always the outcome. Whenever an act of terror is committed, a robust surge of patriotism and anger—which we often mistake for courage—follows. Our tribe rises up and begins to throw rocks at their tribe, and last night as people were gathering in Place de la Republique in glowing, peaceful solidarity, others were enacting the revenge narrative by attacking mosques and bombing kebab shops.

France, the nation that banned the covering of the face in public, has a reputation for being one of the more Islamophobic nations in Europe. The cartoons that Charlie Hedbo printed were puerile, designed for provocation more than satiric illumination, I think. By appealing to a ready-made, Muslim-averse public, they were picking low-hanging fruit. In a different context, the cartoons, instead of being seen as heroic, would be seen as offensive, bigoted propaganda.

There are roughly six million Muslims in France, and they comprise about ten percent of the population. Of that six million, approximately a third identify as practicing Muslims, with the rest, many of whom are marginalized immigrants, leading secular lives that presumably include things like Grand Theft Auto, football and beer. The terrorists don’t want these people to be assimilated into French culture, they want them to be radicalized, and to do so they must feel persecuted and unwelcome. I suspect that the point behind the killings was not to quell free speech, but to ratchet up tribal warfare against Muslims, ensuring that for new, would-be recruits, participation in a holy war will always seem like a decent option.

The response then should be to treat the people responsible as criminals, and not as a part of some invisible, ever-present army. Declaring war on an idea rather than a specific, definable entity seems doomed, and as we willingly suspend our civil rights and try to make our collective fear, anger and grief manifest in physical villains, our principles and values, our quality of life, begins to rot from the inside, and right there, the war is lost.

“The Invisible Gays” was a Black-Ops project undertaken by the CIA that lasted through the 1950s to 1980. The highly classified covert operation implemented weather manipulation technology, chemical warfare, mind control and the paranormal in an attempt to influence social behaviour and undermine the USSR. Like a weather system, the CIA sought to create  “Homosexual Clouds,” with which they could then target various key groups of Soviet society. This imperceptible cloud would infiltrate certain groups creating gays, or at very least feminine, neutered sensibilities, from what was otherwise very vigorous, heterosexual stock. Through this process the USA hoped to gain the upper hand in the Cold War by emasculating, demoralizing and destabilizing the male-dominated, warrior culture of the Russian empire.

The success and even existence of the operation is still in some debate, although there are many in the West who believe The Invisible Gays played a large role in the eventual collapse of the Soviet Union.

The Invisible Gays and hockey

The “enigmatic” Russian hockey player is said to be a direct result of The Invisible Gays project. Historically, hockey was a very violent sport in Russia, but over the course of the 1970s the game took on an artistic character that saw fighting almost entirely eliminated even though it had always been a beloved and encouraged part of the sport. According to sources within the CIA, “Homosexual Clouds” were directed in greater and greater number into the locker rooms of powerhouse Russian hockey teams like the Red Army and Moscow Dynamo during the 70s, resulting in an effete style of play that lingers in the national character to this day.

Vladimir Putin and The Invisible Gays

It’s believed that Vladimir Putin’s current anti-gay laws have much to do with his knowledge of The Invisible Gays from when he was working for the KGB. Although it has never been confirmed, it is believed that Putin worked exclusively as an anti-The Invisible Gays operative for 6 years, at which time he was exposed to many Homosexual Clouds. Some have posited that this exposure has had lasting effects on the man, leaving deep within him homosexual desires which are now expressed as a repressive rage. Some argue that is a False Flag, and that Putin simply knows from personal experience how dangerous and what a threat The Invisible Gay project, and thus homosexuality, is to stable Russian society.

The Invisible Gays and popular culture

Reclusive American author Thomas Pynchon wrote a novel called The Invisible Gays.

He couldn’t be stopped, his dick had to be seen.

Of course, politicians have long been engaged in reckless, sex scandal drenched behaviour. Vladimir Putin, President of Russia and robust anti-gay activist has actually been celebrated for his aggressive sexual posturing, with his PR team strategically releasing sex room chat transcripts to the public in an effort to bolster his macho image by “gay-baiting,” a practice common in Russia, a nation now dealing with the fallout from Putin’s new anti-gay laws.

Here is one of those transcripts:

Bear60: Tell me! What is it you are wearing!!

Twink23: Black leather chaps and a wife beater. Also, I’m hard.

Bear60: You must prove this to me! I demand it!! You are submissive!!

Bear60: Ha! I am not gay and now you have sent me a photograph of your hard penis!! The joke is on you, fag-boy!!

Twink23: I like it when you talk like that, you want some more, don’t you?

Bear60: It is a nice penis you have, strong. It is a shame you waste it on men and not women!

Twink23: I would waste it on you.

Bear60: Tell me Twink, what sort of men do you like? Do you like Russian men?

Twink23: Oh, you know I do. I love the HARD consonants of the language, I love everything HARD about Russians—their lives, their hands, their dark secrets.

Bear60: Maybe it is one of your homosexual fantasies to imagine sex with a powerful Russian man who was once a killer in the KGB!!?? Perhaps that excites you Twink23!?

Twink23: Tell me more, Bear, tell me more!

Bear60: This man, he would take you roughly because he hates that you have unnatural sex! And to show you his anger and disgust he would tear off all your clothes, and it would just be the two of you in the secluded barn that had been sheltering you from the storm! Because you are weak, you would demand to be punished sexually for the things you have done and the Russian Bear would humble you with great force and beauty, and then your skin would glisten and emit a satisfied and loving rosy hue!

Bear60: Ah, Twink, I see I have tricked you into sending me another abberant photograph of you! Ha, you are a fool, but I see you must workout! A lot. I also work out, for I am a very vigorous and heterosexual man. Do you know where it might be possible for me to trick a black homosexual into sending me a picture of his penis and muscles? Maybe the three of us could chat?

I love the taste of bacon.

I can fly, but because I don’t like to stand out in a crowd I never do.

I hate my mother for abandoning me, but then I went and did the same thing to my litter.

Even though my tribe continues to look to me for religious guidance, I have lost my faith.

I can only achieve orgasm when I’m on my wheel.

I know it’s wrong, but I hate horses. They’re so pretentious.

Everybody thinks that I’m really nice, but the truth is that I’m full of anger and hate.

I kill for fun.