Showing posts with label Trump sucks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trump sucks. Show all posts

Monday, January 23, 2017

Random post on Steeler loss, women's march & sleeping with Madonna


So many topics to tackle on this day: Do I blog about Steeler loss? Madonna being outrageous? The marches? Yes! Yes! Yes!

Time for the ever-popular random item post:

• I can’t believe I’ll be 54 in less than a month and I still haven’t slept with Madonna. She was very boastful of her promiscuity when we were both younger, and promiscuous was something I aspired to be. I figured it would just be a matter of time before we hooked up. Really, I thought it would happen before I was 40. It could still happen. The week has just begun.

• My friend John’s a football coach. He texted me toward the end of the Steelers 36-17 loss that the result meant I had to admit the brilliance of Patriot coach Bill Belichick. He’s a great coach, sure, but will be forever tainted by episodic cheating. We know anytime the Patriots win, the Patriots cheat. We just don’t yet know how.

• I really hate the Patriots. How much? When I saw “Manchester by the Sea” with Val, she thought the movie was a tragedy because so many bad things were happening to people. I said it was a comedy because all the bad things were happening to Patriot fans.

• Politics aside, the transition is fascinating. I know if I moved into the White House, one of the first things I’d do wouldn’t involve comprehending nuclear codes or state secrets. One of the first things I’d do would be to have someone explain to me how to use the new TV remote. It’s the first thing I do any time I check into a hotel.

• A buddy of mine texted me last night that I should challenge the legitimacy of the Patriots win and organize a march on Washington. I’m thinking about it.

• I was unprepared for the size and planetary participation of the women’s march. It was truly monumental. But Trump’s right. I didn’t see that kind of passion during the election. But he’s a fool if he thinks he can be dismissive of what happened Saturday. 

• Saw “La La Land” with our 16-year-old last week. Loved it. Very entertaining. I’m really liking Emma Stone. She was also great in “The Birdman” and “Zombieland.”

• The funniest show on TV right now is “black-ish” (ABC, Wednesday, 9:30 p.m.) It’s a hilarious take on what black people think about white people and vice versa. The episode that combined elements of MLK Day with white and black reactions to Trump election was truly brilliant.

• I caught some of the Atlanta game with some buddies and while we were admiring their firepower, we struggled to name five people who’d ever played for the Falcons. I came up with Deion Saunders, Bill Fralic, Steve Bartkowski and Michael Vick. Atlanta in general, a city best known for its airport, doesn’t seem to have much personality. It’s the Jan Brady of major American cities.

• Still, I prefer Jan to Tom Brady so there’s no doubt about for whom I’ll be rooting. 

• My conservative friends say me writing about Trump infuriates them; my liberal friends implore me to write about him all the time. Me, I’m going to resist writing about him because I find myself being too careful, too thoughtful. If I say anything inflammatory I want to be sure I’m both factual and concise. That’s a lot to ask from a deadbeat blog I do for free.

• Having said that, I relish reading every other word avid Trump-bashers compose.

• And having said that, I was appalled by jokes about Barron Trump. 

• A lot of people were gleeful to see a protester sucker punch neo-Nazi Richard Spencer. I was not among them. I disdain seeing anything that justifies an escalation of violent incivility. Him getting punched just standing there is not funny. Having a piano accidentally fall on his head would have been.

• SNL, a show which I can go for decades without watching is in a golden era, a rare epoch when cast talent meets newsworthy hilarity. This, to me, is the most appealing and reliably hilarious cast since the heydays of Carvey, Hartman, Myers and crew. Aziz Ansari, with whom I’d not been familiar, was hilarious this week.

• My daughter attended a high school dance Saturday. She had a great time. One complaint: she said the music sucked. “It was nearly all rap,” she said. I had to be careful about how I said what I said next. “Honey,” I said, “this might put you in an awkward position, but I want to propose to the student council that your Daddy be in charge of the music at the next dance.” She reacted with angry scorn, but in her heart she knows I’d be a great DJ for kids of any age.

• For me, the biggest WTF moment of this weekend’s inaugural WTF gala was Trump entering his lame-o concert to the tune of the Rolling Stones, “Heart of Stone.” What’s the message behind that? Certainly not compassionate conservatism. If I was producing the show I’d have suggested the Stones ’94 rarity “Sparks Will Fly.” One way or another, it’s bound to be prescient. 

• I hope the White House TV remote isn’t carelessly connected to the nuclear launch codes.

• My Super Bowl prediction: Atlanta 56, New England 32. Those aren’t scores. Those are my predictions for the high temperatures in each city the day of the game.

• If I ever had the opportunity to sleep with Madonna, I'd follow the advice I give to young men as they leave for college: "Put condoms on everything. Put three condoms on some things."



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Friday, August 7, 2015

Who'll take on Trump & what Cher has to do with it


I first spoke to Donald Trump in the early 1990s. I remember word-for-word our entire conversation.
Trump: “This is Donald Trump calling for Wayne Castleman.”
Me: “Hold, please.”
I think we had that exact same conversation about four or five times over the next week. I remember thinking each time how ironic it was for me to be transferring a call from a man who lived in a castle (Mar-A-Lago) to a reporter named Castleman.
Watching Trump last night I tried to recall all the famous people to whom I’ve said, “Hold, please,” while transferring their calls to reporters more important than I.
This mostly took place in the early 1990s when I was working at National Enquirer in fabulous Lantana, Florida. I did most of my work from our Pennsylvania home but the Enquirer — best employers I ever had — would fly me to Florida for two weeks every six months or so.
I’d spend most of my day doing odd jobs, BSing with old English Fleet Streeters and manning what I came to call the “Hold, please” desk.
The B- and C-list personalities to whom I’ve said, “Hold, please,” makes for quite the oddball celebrity Hall of Fame.
Besides The Donald, there was Julie Newmar, Joey Buttafuoco, Pat Sajak, Loni Anderson, LaToya Jackson and, my favorite, Rob Camelleti. Bonus points if you remember Camelleti.
That’s right. He was superstar Cher’s bagel boy lover. They met and fell briefly in love when he was 22, she 40. 
He was my favorite because every time I’d say, “Hold, please,” he’d say, “Sure, thanks, man.”
Trump was one of those celebs who complained constantly about having his private life exposed in The Enquirer, yet found exposing his private life in The Enquirer irresistible. He’d feed Castleman and other reporters his side of the story, often with the stipulation to say the info was from “sources close to Trump,” a typical celebrity dodge.
After watching last night’s debate, I detect the GOP establishment is nervous about being close to Trump.
I can’t blame them.
I used to think he was just a frivolous ass.
I was wrong.
He’s the most appalling and crass individual I’ve ever seen run for office.
He makes Ross Perot look like George Clooney.
He’s striking a chord with people who find his bracing brand of honesty refreshing.
These people fail to understand honesty without tact is like brain surgery without anesthesia: The operation might succeed, but the procedure can kill.
Trump says these perilous times require such stridency. He says that means Trump.
Wrong. We don’t need Trump.
We need Fred Rogers.
Or maybe Joe Welch.
Welch was chief counsel for the U.S. Army in the historic Army-McCarthy hearings that marked the downfall of U.S. Senator Joe McCarthy (R-Wisc.).
During a June 9, 1954, senate hearing, the thuggish McCarthy accused Welch’s trusted young assistant, Fred Fischer, of typical communist shenanigans.
Welch’s indignant reply on live TV is among my favorite moments in American history. He said: 
Until this moment, Senator, I think I have never really gauged your cruelty or your recklessness. I like to think I am a gentleman, but your forgiveness will have to come from someone other than me.”

When a sputtering McCarthy tried to renew his attack, Welch interrupted him:

“Senator, may we not drop this? Let us not assassinate this fine lad further, Senator. You've done enough. Have you no sense of decency, sir? At long last, have you left no sense of decency?”

The outraged civility of the rebuke signaled the long-overdue end of McCarthyism, one of the darkest periods in American history.

So someone in the GOP has a golden opportunity. 

He or she can pick the right moment and deftly plunge the dagger into the heart of Trump’s corrosive ambitions. It will instantly elevate that candidate to the top of the polls.

It’s going to take someone firm, but well-mannered, someone who’s gone hand-to-hand with really tough customers.

Someone who knows how to get on a real roll.

I wonder if Cher’s erstwhile bagel maker is busy.



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