A deranged decree

Pajiba points out that the only thing Feckless Leader is doing that isn’t Putin’s or Bannon’s bidding is “that thing that everyone said would get him impeached,” i.e., keeping his ties to his and his family’s business interests. Today it was tweeting — apparently during his freaking intelligence briefing — and then sending his press secretary out to repeat that Nordstrom should stock his daughter’s schmattas by presidential, regardless of market, demand. Reactions ranged from “conflict of interest” to “crook” to “unconstitutional.” Me, I’m thinking of following my sonnet with a song to the tune of Steve Martin’s “King Tut” called “King Putz.”

Think clean thoughts

It occurs to me that if the Michelin Man worked out, he’d be the sexy Mr. Clean in tonight’s Super Bowl ad:

Naturally, Mr. C. is a candidate for this blog’s jingle of the day feature:

Mr. Clean cuts dirt and grime and grease, it takes him just a minute
And now it’s even better ’cause there’s Ultra Power in it
Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean, Mr. Clean!

Come to think of it, if the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man worked out, he’d be the Michelin Man. There’s enough white power in this post to satisfy Steve Bannon.

All in all, his brain’s another brick in the wall

Today’s jingle of the day comes from a commercial extolling the filter tip of Pall Mall cigarettes:

Over, under, around, and through
Pall Mall flavor travels to you

Texas Senator John Cornyn reminded me of it by saying (h/t No More Mr. Nice Blog), in regards to the cost of Feckless Leader’s border wall: “I have concerns about spending un-offset money, which adds to the debt, period. I don’t think we’re just going to be able to solve border security with a physical barrier because people can come under, around it and through it.”

B – b – but the wall won’t cost us a dime, because Mexico will pay for it! Get with the program, Corny! Between this and two Republicans opposing Betsy DeVos for Secretary of Education, are we seeing a rift between the GOP and Lord Boor?

Cue Steve Martin from the end of those old “Saturday Night Live” sketches: “Naaaah.”

The Pygmy Colossus

I should have gone to the airport to join the protests against the thief executive’s outrageous, hypocritical, and un-American let’s be honest and call it a Muslim ban, but I was oddly moved to look up the Statue of Liberty’s legendary lines and write a poem instead. With apologies to Emma Lazarus and the sonnet form,

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
Whose conquering stride spanned wide from shore to shore,
Still less like our America’s dear dame —
The woman with the torch, who by the door
To freedom spoke inspiring words now moot.
She weeps in silence, while an empty suit
(Unbuttoned sport coat, anyway — such girth!)
Occupied by a preening, strutting boor
Stands like a toxic blight upon the Earth
And cravenly cries, “Keep your tired and poor!
The innocents and children fleeing war
Will get no welcome here. Let men say, ‘Shame!’
But huddled masses now will find a dearth
Of pity where democracy saw birth.”

Two tuna tunes

Commercial jingles are rarely more than a few lines long. Many are merely couplets, like

The best part of waking up
Is Folger’s in your cup

Although our jingle of the day series prefers retired or classic rather than current entries, so let’s fire up the bouzouki and sing along with this Greek classic:

Olympic Air will make you smile
But please, no dancing in the aisle

Alternatively, we could chant a couplet that my Florida niece and nephew inexplicably adored and repeatedly asked me to sing when they were young:

Bum, bum, Bumble Bee, Bumble Bee tuna
I love Bumble Bee, Bumble Bee tu – u – na

I think that one had some more lines, but I’ve forgotten them. It also had a competitor, which I do remember:

Ask any mermaid you happen to see
What’s the best tuna? Chicken of the Sea!

Yes, that’s the first question to ask if you see a mermaid. As a child, I thought it was the height of comedy to sing to the same tune, “Ask any bullfrog that you have on hand / What’s the best chicken? (Croak!) Tuna of the Land!” I was a deeply unpopular child.

A braver blogger than I

Or at least possessor of a stronger stomach is Roy Edroso at Alicublog, who regularly reads some of the most outrageous wingnut screeds and reprints them with sensibly snarky commentary. This week, in back-to-back posts, he dispatches some feminine ninny who compares Ivanka Trump to Kate Middleton and, pausing only to come up for air, a Louis L’Amour loon who compares her father Lord Boor to — wait for it — Abraham Lincoln: “Not since 1860 have American voters rejected their elite and chosen a candidate without apparent qualifications.”

Roy’s remark: “Ah, I see; so in 1860 Americans (40 percent of them, anyway) … rolled the dice on a former Congressman at the head of a burgeoning movement and party who had stood for the Senate and whose debates with Stephen Douglas, a watershed in American political discourse, had been widely circulated — which lines up pretty good with ‘former reality TV star’ and ‘famous bankrupt rageclown.'”

He forgot to mention how Lincoln was backed and Douglas hacked by the Russians, but I’m still a fan.

If she was a car, she’d burn rubber

Delta Jean MarieDespite having only three-quarters the usual allotment of claws, black cat Delta is shredding the hell out of my two black leather chairs, one in the living room and one in the office. She likes to leap and hurtle through the air before skidding to a stop on furniture, then dig in for traction and either launch herself or tumble clumsily from the top or arm of a chair, leaving punctures and lengthy claw marks.

Yes, this is going to be one of those blogs that occasionally shows a cat. Back in the early ’00s when we used a platform called Radio instead of WordPress and I had one of the top 50 blogs (i.e., when there were only 60 blogs in the world), I wrote and more famous and generous blogger Jonathon Delacour immortalized as a little plaque or meme We’re here, we blog, we post cat pictures, get used to it.

I yam what I yam

Red Meat moves into theology.

Also, speaking of this post’s title, Bark Bark Woof Woof‘s Mustang Bobby has a good take on evil vizier Kellyanne Conway’s instantly immortal phrase:

Fact: I’m a 64-year-old white guy with a mid-level government job who could stand to lose a few pounds.

Alternative fact: I’m a well-muscled billionaire who can fly.

Bobby refers to Conway’s “trying — and failing miserably — to be charming in a Fox News-like perky and yet devoid-of-reality sort of way,” but today’s attitude isn’t perky. It’s stern and paranoid, yet devoid of — nay, openly hostile to — reality, from the global gag rule that prohibits health care providers from even mentioning abortion to the clampdown on national parks tweeting about climate change. Been a vicious 48 hours, hasn’t it?