Friday, August 26, 2016

I COULDN'T RESIST




I've got far better things to write about than this, but I absolutely couldn't resist.

Here is Hillary's latest designer outfit, worn last weekend at a Cape Cod fundraiser hosted by Cher (who else?)

Top tickets for seats cost $27,000 a shot.....

..... and Hillary's outfit cost - get this-
OVER $12,000!!! 



My Big Question:
What the hell IS it?

A hospital gown?
An apron for the Ozark Possum Cookoff?
A reject item from Maternity City?
A gigantic toaster cover??

Twelve thousand buckeroos??!!?? 
I've seen better outfits for ten bucks at Walmart.

Jon, you're always making fun of people!

Give me a friggin' break. I seized a golden opportunity. This is the biggest laugh since Billyboy's tribute to her at the Democratic Convention.

You're not only voting for the most corrupt woman in the history of the United States, you're also voting for the most tasteless one.

But, of course, she's better than the Evil White Man.

Don't expect me to apologize. It's the grim truth.

 
A few more Hillary fashion statements.



(I won't give you my take on Cher....)

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

TANGO




     


  When I was considerably younger and a little more agile than I am now, and when I was living in the delectable State of Illusion - also known as Hollywood - somebody (names need not be mentioned) taught me to tango.

Yes, tango. The dance. Alle Argentina.

I was never a dancer, but a few glasses of sangria and a balmy summer night can inspire me to try just about anything. Old records on an antique Victrola. Candlelight. A smooth partner.
I learned the steps, the moves.
I tangoed. 

Tonight - a thousand years later - I'm remembering how the tango ignited my soul. And I'm lamenting that I was born in the wrong era. I need to be transported to the 1920's, languishing in a campy cafe somewhere in Paris or Berlin - smoking a cigarillo, drinking cabernet sauvignon. Immersed in  sensuality, exotica, and promises of passion....

Which is what inspired me to make my latest video today. A tango.

Por una Cabeza has always been my ultra favorite tango - for as long as I can remember. I love it. It is the essence of my soul.


 Carlos Gardel
(1890-1935)

It was written by Carlos Gardel (1890-1935)  a French-Argentine singer and composer, who died much too soon in a plane crash.

Por una Cabeza is a Spanish racing horse phrase, which means "By a head" - a horse winning a race by the length of a head. In the song, he compares his addiction to horse racing with his attraction to women.
Go figure. 

I chose the instrumental version for my video. The original version, sung by Gardel, can be found on YouTube. I'm too lazy to provide the link.

I threw this video together in less than an hour, published it on YouTube, then saw that I made a few glaring errors - so I had to delete it and do it again.
I think it's okay now.

Let's tango. 


Video best viewed full screen

Sunday, August 21, 2016

OLYMPIC OBSERVATIONS





Fair Warning:
I'm in a foul mood and this post is going to be brutal, ruthless, and offensive. If you can't handle it - leave now and go to the Disney Channel. 

I remember a long-ago time when I loved the Olympics and was completely caught up in the excitement and magic of the occasion.

Has the entire concept of the Olympics changed for the worst, or is it only me?
This time around - after two excruciatingly long and joyless weeks of unabashed athlete worship - I'm counting the minutes until the damn thing is over.

I no longer have a TV and now I know why.

I watched the Olympics via live stream (that's kinda like a steady piss) on the computer. Since American live stream isn't always reliable, I occasionally had to switch to the French sports channel.
You haven't lived until you've watched the Olympics in French.

Here are my random, haphazard, unedited observations of the Rio Summer Games:

The most disorganized, unappealing Opening Ceremonies I ever saw. It looked like an explosion at the Cirque du Soleil. 
The Save the Trees lecture on environmental awareness was annoyingly inappropriate. To hell with the trees - - why isn't something being done to clean up Rio's polluted water?

Since Brazil's female President Dilma Rousseff is in the process of being impeached (ya hear that, Hillary?), V.P. Michel Temer had to take her place. His bizarre, rambling speech at the Opening Ceremonies encouraged us to welcome and love all of the wonderful immigrants that invade our countries. 
Yea, that's exactly what the good ol' United States did, and the immigrants f*ked us over with such gratuitous acts as 9-11 and the Orlando massacre (to mention only two out of hundreds).

Here's a flash, Senor Temer: the Olympics isn't the place for political statements. 

And why all the news media adulation over the female athlete who wore the Burka? (Obama will undoubtedly throw a party in her honor).
I don't give a rat's ass if she wore Fruit of the Looms on her head.
 

I love the Olympic Hymn - but that church choir of children who sang it completely destroyed it. Their unemotional rendition was far too fast.

Give them a break, Jon. They're only children.

Yea? Well, maybe instead of using the Romper Room Brigade, they should have used some adults who could actually sing. 

And while I'm on a roll - where the hell is the Olympic flame???
They kept moving it from one place to another until, finally, even NBC couldn't keep track of it. It's probably somewhere in Guam by now, for all we know.

 Bob Costas

And while I'm on the subject of NBC - - did anyone notice that Bob Costas no longer has any facial expressions due to the face lift? I don't even think his eyes are able to blink.

Mary Carillo

And here's the burning question that I've had for years:
What is the deal with Mary Carillo???
Is she a man?
Transvestite? 
Transgender?
She has been on NBC for every Olympic Game since Euripides was molesting houseboys - - and I still can't figure out her gender.
My uneducated guess is that she's a Lesbian, taking male hormones. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Another (unrelated) question:
Are there any age requirements for the athletes?
Why do all the Chinese women look like they're six years old?

Did anyone notice that all of the announcers and commentators on NBC have high, shrill, unbearably annoying voices?
And those are the men. The women are even worse.
Except for Mary Carillo, of course.

In my humble opinion, just because you're an ex-athlete doesn't necessarily mean you'll make a great sports announcer.

While we're on the subject of ex-athletes, they dragged Tara Lipinski out of the dust bin to make a commercial for Subway.
Wasn't she a World Champion skater fifty years ago when she was three?

Hey, she was a sweet kid, Jon.

Sweet, my ass. She irked me back then, and she irks me even more now.

Isn't there ANY redeeming factor about the Olympics, Jon? Didn't anything inspire you or bring tears to your eyes?

Yea. I got tears this afternoon when I realized that I wasted two precious weeks watching this crap. 

Surely you jest.
  

Don't call me Shirley.
Okay, okay.  You broke me down. It was admittedly inspiring to see Michael Phelps win another fifty gold medals.

He has a total of 28 Olympic Medals, Jonathan. 23 are gold.

Whatever. After you win two or three, it sort of loses it's meaning.

Any other thoughts?

That girlfriend of his, with the baby, is hanging onto him like grim death. I saw the dollar signs in her greedy eyes. 

You're just a jealous bitch, Jon.

I probably shouldn't say this - because lots of people are listening - but (just between you and me) doesn't Michael Phelps look...a little bit....like Alfalfa?


 
 You're really brilliant, Jon, but very few people appreciate it.
Are you finally done with your Olympic Observations?

Not quite. There's one thing that REALLY pisses me off. Well, actually two things:

VOLLEYBALL AND GOLF.
They DO NOT belong in the Olympics!!!!

Golf is something you do in Palm Springs when you're eighty-five.

Volleyball is something you do in Venice Beach (California) when you're sixteen. 

The only reason they threw volleyball  in the Olympics was to kill time with an endless T and A Fest.

That's Tit and Ass, for those of you in Kansas.

Hours and hours and hours of clueless, sweaty anorexic babes in skimpy bikinis, batting that friggin' ball around over the net.....  

Calm down, Jon, and take a deep breath. I think your time is up.

Admit it, Kemo Sabe - this was one helluva entertaining post. And any sourpuss who didn't think it was funny is completely hopeless.