Jim Flanigan Looks at the World
Turning the Mundane into Fundane Since 2015
Based on the recent Brett Kavanaugh FBI “investigation,” I think the dictionary definition of FBI needs to be amended just a bit. I have added some additional spellings in red to the dictionary definition below.
Alternate spellings: FSB and GRU
Outdated spelling: KGB
Caught on video recently was a plucky piece of toilet paper making a rare escape after encountering fecal matter.
The New York Times has certainly made a splash as they have exposed bare the Trump family’s tax fraud and money laundering through the decades. I am primarily familiar with money laundering thanks to the great TV series Breaking Bad.
That’s a coincidence. I have an aunt who many years ago used to swear I looked just like Nicholas Cage. Let’s just say Cage has aged better since then thanks to a better trainer, better cosmetician, better tailor, better hairpiece (I use a scrap I cut out from an old burlap sack), and fewer kids. But that’s a story for another blog. Let’s get back to the Trump crime family and money laundering.
Continue reading “Trump’s Dirty Laundry Super Gif Special Edition”
Last weekend I led my winless family fantasy football team into battle as the KavaNots.
This weekend, my team is still winless, but heading into week 4 with a new team name and logo …
I am still scratching my head trying to figure out how all the Republican senators on the Judiciary Committee can turn their back on non-investigated sexual assault charges and vote to pass along SCOTUS nominee Brett Kavanaugh for a full Senate vote. Maybe it is because of the invisible glasses that Orrin Hatch wears that allows him to see the truth that we cannot see.
Maybe it is because Lindsey Graham can’t imagine sexually assaulting a female. I wonder what kind of kompromat the Russians are holding over Graham’s head that have made him take such a 180 degree turn and become such a Trump toadie. Just look at the change …
Here’s what I took away from the testimony provided by Dr. Ford and Brett Kavanaugh.
Despite what went on today at the hearing, and regardless of whether the Republicans decide to vote to confirm Brett Kavanaugh, I still think Attorney Michael Avenatti has a part to play in this pageant. Stay tuned.
When used as an adjective, the word ‘naught’ has these meanings …
I played a little fast and loose with Brett Kavanaugh’s name for the title of this blog post because he personifies that word’s definition now. His Supreme Court nomination appears to be lost and ruined. He will soon be viewed as worthless and useless to the conservative Republican’s cause. And if the accusations are true, he is morally bad and wicked, or at least was at one time. But that is not the problem I have with the Brett Kavanaugh SCOTUS nomination.
The title of today’s blog post is a saying and a movie from the great comedian W.C. Fields, and I tested that saying the other day. I opened my car door in a parking lot and accidentally lightly tapped the car next to mine. I had the door in my control at all times and could immediately see that zero damage was done to either vehicle. I could also see the other vehicle was a Cadillac Escalade which I stereo-typically view as driven by a criminal, drug dealer or pimp.
Hmmm, maybe point proved. Anyway, the angry owner jumped out of the car, I assumed (hoped?) to sell me drugs or whatever. However, he insisted I damaged his car. Where? There was no mark. I opened the door again close to his car. Nothing there where the two cars had kissed. He pointed to a spot about half an inch away. I insisted that could not be from my door. He insisted I did not understand the laws of physics. Well, he was right about that, but that did not explain why the spot on his car was white and my car is gray. He insisted I provide my insurance card and driver’s license. I refused.
I’m not a small guy, but this guy was big. He made me look small and old. Well, at least the old part was accurate. And he smoked unfiltered Camel cigarettes. I think that means he can rip me in half, but probably not be able to catch me to try.
I resisted. I have a lot of experience resisting the last year and a half. He threatened to call the police. I told him to go ahead. And then he called my bluff and made the call. Gulp.
There is a line in Don McLean’s song, American Pie, about “the day the music died.” For me, it should have been “the days the music died” which perfectly described this past weekend for me. My 2018 concert summer experience was just showing signs of life with September concerts by Cheap Trick and Rare Earth. This past Saturday, I had a chance to make 2018 a memorable concert summer.
Chicago is a city chock full o’ of summer music festivals, and Riot Fest came to town this past weekend. No, it is not a celebration of the 1968 Democratic National Convention held in Chicago between riots. It’s an incredible 3-day music festival. I could have seen Weezer headline Friday night, and I thought it would be cool on Sunday to see Debbie Harry bring Blondie to Riot Fest to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the release of their great album Parallel Lines. But I couldn’t believe the line-up of artists I could see on Saturday. I could spend about 7 hours there in music heaven wandering from stage to stage to see favorites. Take a look at this line-up …
Continue reading “The Day the Music Died – Part 1, Saturday”
Wow, that was quick. In one day, 65 women who knew smarmy SCOTUS nominee Brett Kavanaugh back in high school put together this letter and put their names to it.
Names have been omitted to protect the naive.
I am not sure I could locate 65 women from my high school of over 4000 students who even remember me, or would publicly admit to it.
Am I a bad guy or just wildly unpopular in high school?
Of course, I also have not had a woman accuse me of sexual assault either. I am a math-lover, but in this case I would bend the arithmetic rules and admit that 1 > 65.
Each week I am changing my family league fantasy football team name and logo to tweak my Trump-loving relatives in the league. Last week, this guy’s mug was the logo for my team, the Mueller Marauders.
You can read the details HERE.
This week, I was stymied. I had a team name of the Sanders Raised Eyebrows planned, but there is a character limit on team names. “Mine is too long,” I said for the first time ever.
However, I am happy with my alternate choice for this week.
Has it really been 17 years since September 11, 2017? Wow, time flies.
The NFL season has begun. That means my fantasy football season has begun. That means my fantasy feuding with my Trump-loving relatives in my family’s fantasy football league has begun. Say that 3 times fast.
I explained in a prior post about my plan to tweak the Trumpkin relatives in my family’s fantasy football league with Trump-baiting team names. I entered our online draft as the DC United Patriots with this team logo.
That elicited nary a comment. Who can complain about someone with a patriotic team name and logo? So for week 1, I decided to turn up the tweaking a bit. Here’s my week 1 team logo …
Yesterday, my wife calmly pointed out a bee/wasp/hornet on her pillow. Like one of Pavlov’s conditioned dogs, I reached for a tissue, gathered the creature in its folds, and took it outside to set it free. I guess technically it was free inside our house, and I was the one who imprisoned it in a tissue, so is that really setting it free? It’s kind of like when Donald Trump signs a heinous Executive Order, chaos ensues, and then he “fixes” the problem by revoking the order, most likely because some circuit court judge ordered him to do so.
Anyway, my wife’s pillow was bee/wasp/hornet-free when she was ready for bed last night. We both slept soundly, with my sounds being mostly snores. That was until I felt a sharp pain in my arm, like a deranged acupuncturist was loose in our bedroom. I groggily reached for the area, grabbed something, threw it on my nightstand, and went back to a fitful sleep. I dreamed I had a stinging pain in my arm the rest of the night. Meanwhile, my wife dreamed she was married to a pain in the neck for the rest of her life.
In the morning, I awoke to this …
Jim Flanigan Looks at the World 