Matt Whitaker: Where have I seen this guy before?

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Breaking: Trump Opens New Golf Course on Indian Land

“This is a line of Indians leaving Rancho Malario. To make room for you! Here’s the beautiful Trail of Tears Golf Course…”

Full comedy album here.

More About The Firesign Theatre

“Classic comedy album a Firesign of the times” (Boston Globe)

Note: The album title in question admits of seasonal variations. Now that the Trumpster claims to be resuscitating Christmas, one might say “Don’t crush that crèche, hand me the pliers.” Something to think about while eating at Papa John’s. (Don’t!)

* * *

Tom Price – Leaving on a Jet Plane

A paean to the disgraced HHS Secretary, who was thrown out with the Friday trash.

WASHINGTON (AP) — President Donald Trump’s health secretary has resigned, after his travel on costly charter flights triggered investigations and angered his boss.

Tom Price’s partial repayment and public regrets couldn’t save his job.

The Health and Human Services secretary became the first member of the president’s Cabinet to leave office in a turbulent young administration that has seen several high-ranking White House aides ousted. Price served less than 8 months.

When interviewed about future plans, Price said he expected to be found hanging around airport bars and giving away free high schools.

* * *

The views expressed are those of the author, and do not represent any other person or organization.

Donald Trump: Latest Parody Pic

Viewing the pic and discussing some Photoshop techniques

donald-trump-twelve-days-of-trumpster-by-michael-howard

Donald Trump – The Twelve Days of Trumpster

I’ve been slaving away in Photoshop to bring you a new Donald Trump parody pic, this one combining the Big Brother and Twelve Days of Christmas themes. I’ve already posted the lyrics here, but the new pic adds something special. In the argot of the song, it boasts a:

Big Brother head,
Big groping hands,
And an eagle in an Aryan meme.

If you’re sick of seeing alt-right depictions of Donald Trump as Norse God and Emperor of Europe, this parody may give you a chuckle. (“Look to the sleigh / See the Donaldus — Oy veh!”)

Regular readers of my blog know that I sometimes get obsessed with Photoshop, which is actually a good way to get stuff done. Despite its comic intent, this piece demonstrates some useful Photoshop techniques.

If you’re just getting started with Photoshop, one of the best things you can do is just look — look carefully at the elements which make a good composition. Here you can look at the lines which draw the viewer’s attention toward the center of the picture. In your mind’s eye, draw a line from the cat’s hindmost paw to the standing reindeer’s top antler. This is the main line unifying the different figures.

Note also the contrast between the saturated colours in the body of Trump, and the outsized head which “pops” because it’s grayscale. Also note how some areas of the composition are crowded with detail, while others give a much needed sense of space.

If you want to create montages in Photoshop, it’s good to work your way through the exercises in Photoshop tutorials so that you’re fluent with the techniques. One book that really helped me a lot was The Photoshop Wow! Book, which includes beautiful and artistic examples that make you really want to learn the techniques.

Once you have some technique under your belt, get creative with layers, masking, and blending modes. Always ask “What if?” and don’t be afraid to experiment. When making changes, save your work frequently.

When you get into a groove with Photoshop, you’ll find that amazing things happen! A strong technical foundation means you can use your intuition to lead you in a good direction, without having to think everything through.

Is the central figure standing or sitting? Well… both! The standing figure seems to be wearing a blue tie, but as your eyes follow the tie down, it seems to culminate in a belt buckle worn by the sitting figure. The Christmas wreath has two red bows hanging down, and these look as though they’re draped on the knees of the sitting figure.

Effects like these can be achieved using layers, layer masks, and blending modes like Overlay and Luminosity. Sometimes you may like an effect but find that it’s too extreme or that you only want it to appear in part of an image. You can reduce the opacity of a layer, or add a layer mask and paint on it with white or black paint to “brush in” the effect exactly where you want it.

Before starting work in Photoshop, I spent a long time collecting a “morgue” of Donald Trump and Christmas images, not really knowing what I would end up using. Eventually, viewing the collected images, some ideas began to take shape in my mind. Then I started doing rough drafts in Photoshop — refining the basic composition, then taking things to the next level with outrageous layer effects.

I hope these ideas inspire you to explore your own creativity using Photoshop or similar image-editing software.

Michael Howard
The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization.

Defringe Your Cat

Some people declaw or even neuter their cat. If you’re a Photoshopper, you want to be sure and defringe your cat. In the best of possible worlds, I would like to have done a better job removing the green fringe from around the outline of the cat. But at some point you have to consider a work finished. After all, this one isn’t destined for the Sistine Chapel!

Trump vs. Australian PM (parody)

How the deal went down between Donald Trump and Malcolm Turnbull

The “blunt” or “frank” exchange of telephonic views between President Trump and Prime Minister Turnbull has become the stuff of legend. From limited transcripts, we can only imagine what went down.

Scene I

[Phone prep with Kellyanne Conway. Donald Trump is seated in Conway’s second floor office at the White House.]

Conway: Now Donnie, remember that man we talked about yesterday? The one who lives all the way over in the antipodes?

Trump: We don’t need his antipodes. We can make better antipodes right here in the U.S.A. Beautiful antipodes.

Conway: Yes, well be that as it may, it’s time for you to call him now.

Trump: Another foreign leader? I’ve been on the phone with these losers all day long. Can’t I take a nap or watch TV?

Conway: You remember what we agreed: Work time before nap time or TV time. Just one more call today, then you can do whatever you want.

Trump: I’m fresh out of openers. Can’t I just grab him by the–

Conway: Now Donnie, we talked about that. I want you to be very nice to Mr. Turnbull. Turn on the charm. Speak to him in his own language.

Trump: What language does he speak?

Conway: English, after a fashion.

Trump: After a fashion, after a fashion. Even Melania speaks English after a fashion.

Conway: I’m sure you have a lot in common. Just try to get to know him better. Throw in a reference that will make him feel at home.

Trump: What should I say?

Conway: Something homey and Australian to impress him.

Trump: You’re always filling me full of these foreign words like Kristallnacht and borscht to use with foreign leaders. They don’t seem so impressed.

Conway: Well maybe if you used the right words with the right leaders you’d get better results. The Japanese Prime Minister didn’t know much about borscht, and calling him “Honest Abe” didn’t help matters. Nor did Angela Merkel take your reference to “bad hombres.”

Trump: So what million dollar word do you have for me today?

Conway [thinking]: Try didgeridoo. Work it into the conversation somehow. That’ll show him you’re familiar with Australian culture.

Trump [grabbing phone]: Hello? Hello?

Conway: Wait, Mr. President. We need to go downstairs to the Oval Office and call in the boys.

Scene II

[The Oval Office. Kellyanne Conway shepherds Donald Trump to the chair behind his massive oaken desk and gets him settled. He requests Bosco.

Soon she lets out a sharp whistle, and Michael Flynn and Steve Bannon come trotting in. They arrange themselves haphazardly on the opposite side of the desk and begin staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact.]

Trump: So, how’s my convoy coming?

Bannon: Mr. President, your idea of having the Supreme Court finalists head up a truck convoy driving all the way to D.C. is a stroke of genius. But I’m afraid the nominees just aren’t going for it, Sir.

Trump: Nominees? They’re contestants plain and simple. Don’t they know about ratings? Don’t they care about putting on a show? If they flop, I’m the one who gets schlonged.

Flynn: Yes Sir, but I’m afraid some of them have been spoiled by going to Harvard Law School and, you know, sitting on the bench in black robes and all that formality.

Trump: Convoy! Convoy! Everybody loves a convoy. Even Arnold Schwarzenegger loves a convoy. The black robes are fine, they’re beautiful. But can’t we have trucks too?

Flynn: I’m afraid, Sir, that it’s just too late to arrange it. For the last mile of the drive, I have gotten a motorcycle escort for Judge Gorsuch. The Secret Service would not okay the fog machine.

Conway: We need to get this call done. It’s the last call of the day and the timing is tricky.

Trump: Okay, okay, stop Doug Henning me.

Conway: Perhaps you mean mother henning, Sir.

Trump: Doug Henning. Doesn’t anybody remember Doug Henning? Now he really knew how to put on a show. He once sawed Johnny Carson in half. I think it was his last show.

Bannon: Try and settle down, Mr. President.

Conway [to group]: Well, I’ll leave you now.

Conway [whispering to Trump]: Remember what we talked about!

[Conway exits. Phone rings.]

Trump: Hello? Hello?

Turnbull: This is Malcolm Turnbull speaking.

Trump: My didgeridoo is bigger than yours!

Turnbull: Let’s talk it over, mate. I’ve got an esky in the boot.

Trump: Wha…?

Turnbull: Seriously mate, why don’t you pop over, change into your trackie dacks, and we can head over to Macca’s for some wings.

Trump: Translation, I need translation. Huge translation!

Turnbull: I’ve got some lovely prezzies for you, chummy. All arranged with your noble predecessor and ready to ship. Just have a Captain Cook at this snapchat, which I’m sending to you… NOW!

Trump: Pictures. There are pictures on my phone. Pictures of people. Foreign people. Is this legal?

Turnbull: Abso-bloody-lutely! This is Stralia, mate. It’s legal as alligator pear salad.

Trump: Stralia. Now is that a country or a continent?

[Flynn and Bannon shift nervously in their seats.]

Turnbull: It’s both. Look mate, I don’t have time for a geography lesson. I just called to–

Trump: This Stralia, how’s the waterboarding up there?

Turnbull: Not much waterboarding, but plenty of surfboarding. Pop over and I’ll lend you my budgie smugglers. Surf’s up at Lake Burley Griffin. Though you are a bit of a salad dodger.

Trump: I like the surf ‘n’ turf at Bobby Van’s restaurant. Somebody gave me Harry Caray’s Restaurant Cookbook. He’s the leader in surf ‘n’ turf. But I don’t have time to cook. I said to Kellyanne (isn’t she beautiful?), why can’t we create a cabinet position for executive surf ‘n’ turf? It would be cheaper than ordering out. If we eliminate two positions at the State Department, we can have a surf ‘n’ turf guy and still come out ahead of the game. But the bureaucracy! You wouldn’t believe all the red tape that goes into fish.

Turnbull [puzzled]: What kind of fish?

Trump: ANY fish! It could be lobster, red snapper, even a nice piece of halibut comes with so much red tape. Red tape like you wouldn’t believe. The reason I got a huge majority of votes is because people are sick of red tape. Everywhere I go, they ask me: “Can’t we just enjoy surf ‘n’ turf without all the red tape?” That’s where I got the idea. From the restaurants. They have their twofer nights, so I said to Congress: “For every regulation you create, you have to eliminate two more.” I’ve declared war on red tape. We’re bombing the hell out of red tape!

Turnbull: Good on ya, mate. Now if we could just have a decent convo on the subject of–

Trump: I love Austria. I love the people and the rivers. You and I may be different races, but we’re both rooting for the same values. All Americans are rooting for these values. I want us to be friends. I want you to root with me and for me, just like the American people are doing. I’m a huge fan of Austria, and I’ll be rooting for you too. We’ll be rooting together. It’ll be a better way of life. Cry me a river and I’ll cry a river over you. Not actual crying and not an actual river. But good trade. FAIR trade. RECIPROCAL TRADE!!!

Turnbull: That’d be beaut. Do you yanks have any potato scallops? If you do, send ’em on down, because our take-away shops are really hurting from the shortage.

Trump [to Bannon]: Steve, do we have any potato scallops? Check the fridge.

Bannon: We have a few, but not enough to supply Australia. I suggest you leave this issue to the trade delegates.

Trump: Delegates shmelegates! I’m trying to do a deal here. I’ve got the man on the phone and he wants potato scallops. Can’t we find some?

Flynn: We’ll make it a priority, Mr. President. I think there may be some military surplus scallops…

Trump: Okay, but remove all military markings and change the last date of sale to two years from now.

Trump [returning to phone call]: You want scallops? I’ll get you scallops. I’ll get you anything you want. Because you’re a friend. A good friend.

Turnbull: Looking forward to it. Now about this refugee thing negotiated by your worthy predecessor. Are we on, or is it a daggy deal?

Trump: Did someone say the R Word? I hope no one said the R Word. Because that would be very sad if someone said the R Word. I spoke to four world leaders, terrific world leaders today, and none of them said the R Word.

Turnbull: Mr. President, I only said, uh, that word, because there’s business between our two nations which demands it.

Trump: There’s no business like show business, and no business that demands the R Word. No one says the R Word. I was elected by billions and billions of people. Even Carl Sagan voted for me. He’s just one of the dead people who voted for me, even though Hillary tried to get them all to vote for her. So if I say we don’t use the R Word, we don’t use the R Word.

Turnbull: Mr. President, I won’t use the R Word again, I promise. But your worthy predecessor–

Trump: I hope you’re not about to use the O Word. Because I like the O Word even less than I like the R Word.

Turnbull: No Sir, well let’s just say that there was a Mr. Embalmer who had certain dealings with our nation of–

Trump: Austria?

Turnbull [flustered]: Yes, as you say, this Mr. Embalmer had certain dealings with Austria which were left undone. And I, as the, er, Prime Minister of Austria–

Trump: I’m hanging up now. Don’t try sending me any illegal immigrants, either. I wouldn’t mind a kangaroo to play with. It’s lonely in the White House. Melania left me.

Turnbull: Sorry ’bout the missus, mate. I’ll send you a kelpie. Kangas are off limits.

Trump: On behalf of the American people I may accept one kelpie, but only with extreme vetting. I won’t have thousands of djangos eating our fine Boston babies.

Turnbull: No worries, mate. Call me in the arvo. I’ve got to ring off now. I’m giving the Aussie salute to a herd of bush flies.

Trump: I will be checking that kelpie VERY CAREFULLY!

Turnbull: Whatever, mate. Auf wiedersehen!

Trump: Do svidaniya!

Trump [hangs up phone and begins barking orders]: Turn on Fox! Throw another reporter on the barbie! Bring me my Katy Tur doll! And a fresh supply of pins!

Bannon: Get Kellyanne. See what he needs. Tell Sean to issue a statement. Something like “The two leaders emphasized the enduring strength and closeness of the U.S.-Australia relationship that is critical for peace, stability, and blah-blah-blah.”

Trump: Convoy! Convoy!

Flynn: No convoy today, Mr. President. Motorcycle. Mo-tor-cy-cle.

Trump: American motorcycle?

Bannon: It’s a Harley Hog, Mr. President. Made in America by Americuhns. It’s got thrush pipes, hooker headers, ape hangers, and is a pig on roller skates. You can’t get any more American than that.

Trump [smiling vapidly]: Let’s make America great again.

[Just then Kellyanne Conway bursts in, all panicky.]

Conway: Mr. President, I’m afraid I have bad news. No motorcycle. On short notice, all we could get was a Holden Ute.

The Holden Ute, an Australian engineering MAH-vel

The Holden Ute, an Australian engineering MAH-vel

* * *

Further Thoughts

What constitutes torture? Before being so glib about waterboarding, I suggest Donald Trump watch the following video 857 times, then see how he feels about torture:

I’m Not Jealous Dept.

Ben Pobjie on Crikey.com
Lee Zachariah on Junkee.com

Crash Course in Aussie Slang

esky – ice cooler
boot – trunk (of a vehicle)
trackie dacks – track pants
Macca’s – McDonald’s
prezzies – presents
Captain Cook – look
alligator pear – avocado
budgie smugglers – tight fitting swimwear
salad dodger – overweight person
convo – conversation
daggy – not trendy or cool
kelpie – Australian sheep dog
kanga – kangaroo
arvo – afternoon
Aussie salute – swatting flies

django – not Aussie slang, but may refer to a European jazz musician. So when Trump evokes the “dingo ate my baby” meme, he seems to fear that Boston babies will be devoured by the Hot Club De France. And what better reason to issue a travel ban?

Soul mates in fly-swatting
Barack Obama and Malcolm Turnbull immersed in selfie bliss

Barack Obama and Malcolm Turnbull: immersed in selfie bliss

President Obama was legendary for his fly-swatting prowess. Prime Minister Turnbull may not have actually nailed one, but gives the “Aussie salute” numerous times while being grilled by the press over his tête-à-tête with Donald Trump. Someone should post a YouTube from account “Flyswatting News.” It should intercut footage of Barack Obama and Malcolm Turnbull swatting flies, punctuated by the guy from the newsstand in A Few Good Men saying “No flies on you.” The one vid I won’t bother to create, and it would probably get a million hits. Sad! 😉

Donald Trump and Malcolm Turnbull: a couple on the rocks

Donald Trump and Malcolm Turnbull: a couple on the rocks

More fallout from the Aussie potato scallop famine

“Llama Farma” writes:

This is an outrage! Yesterday, I was forced to endure 3 dim sims of spurious composition and a chicko roll with no confirmed chicken content, all on account of the potato scallop shortage. This isn’t pre-1900’s Ireland, people, this is modern day Australia and it’s not good enough. I demand a Royal Commission!

No fries in the Ausland, darlin' / It's a sign of the times...

No fries in the Ausland, darlin’ / It’s a sign of the times…

Disclaimer: This work of parody sometimes goes for laughs on serious subjects. Concerning questions about the treatment of some refugees by the Australian government, see this article in Britain’s Independent.

Michael Howard

The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization.

The Twelve Days of Trumpster

Hilarious song parody toasting Donald Trump’s first days in office

donald-trump-twelve-days-of-trumpster-by-michael-howard

My personal blog is very, very rarely about politics. I usually try to stay a million miles away from that subject, but in these troubling times I can’t always help expressing my opinions. In “People Are Good,” I counselled gentleness and loving kindness in response to the problems of the day. But I sometimes favour humour too. (Why is humour helpful? Because it relieves outrage fatigue.)

From the highest point of view, I wish that Donald Trump would succeed as president, that he would be touched by the light of compassion and humility, and that he would become a good and noble leader. But I can’t help observing that he got elected by being a show-off and a bully, and so far does not seem keen to change his stripes.

What good may come of his term in office I cannot say, but I can comment on what I’ve seen so far:

The Twelve Days of Trumpster

1
On the first day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
A leader in an ethics quandary.

2
On the second day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

3
On the third day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

4
On the fourth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

5
On the fifth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

6
On the sixth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

7
On the seventh day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
One wall for leaping,
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

8
On the eighth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Two pipelines piping,
One wall for leaping,
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

9
On the ninth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Sanctuary bye-bye,
Two pipelines piping,
One wall for leaping,
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

10
On the tenth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Waterboarding hello,
Sanctuary bye-bye,
Two pipelines piping,
One wall for leaping,
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

11
On the eleventh day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Travel ban for Muslims,
Waterboarding hello,
Sanctuary bye-bye,
Two pipelines piping,
One wall for leaping,
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

12
On the twelfth day in office
My Trumpster gave to me:
Twelve freaking tweetstorms,
Travel ban for Muslims,
Waterboarding hello,
Sanctuary bye-bye,
Two pipelines piping,
One wall for leaping,
Kelly Conway spinning
Five odious things.
Millions on the mall,
Big, big thumbs,
Sean Spicer lies,
And a leader in an ethics quandary.

You can catch the tune and general spirit from any of these YouTubes. The piano version (deep blue thumbnail) makes a good karaoke. If that’s not enough, see the sidebar for even more versions.


Note: “The Twelve Days of Trumpster” has a long and storied history and admits of many regional variations. In Greenland, for example, it is not unusual to hear reference to such gifts as:

Twelve lobbyists leeching
Eleven seniors swooning
Ten golfers golfing
Nine frackers fracking

Our neighbours to the south, on the other hand, may sing of:

Pissed-off Mexicanos
Stupid bloody gringos
Take your wall and shove it
Trumpster is El Cuco

I, however, prefer the original (more genteel) version passed down through the ages. (The “three French hoons” mentioned in the Australian version are totally off the menu.)

Michael Howard

The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization.


Sidebar: Other versions of the carol

It’s not easy to find good versions, as most people mistakenly think this is a children’s song, and that children have no taste. (In truth, when properly cooked they taste delicious!) Be that as it may, here are some other versions of “The Twelve Days of Christmas” which I genuinely like:


I hope you’ve enjoyed our little trip to the antipodes! Next year: “Dashing Through The Bush…”

* * *

No, Cuco No!

Why Latino children are scared of Donald Trump, plus another Sophie Maletsky video.

In Trials of Apartment Living, I talked about things like abusive landords and plumbers who never show — though as you would expect, I also digressed into things Whovian, Scottish, and Sockpuppetrian. (Now there’s a Scrabble word for ya…)

I’m blessed to live in a building with few bugs, and I don’t leave food or crumbs around, so they should have to fast if ever they became visitors. Still, with a long, hot, humid, endless summer, some were bound to crawl out of the woodwork. I found myself having to spray repeatedly until Old Man Winter finally arrived and the bugs hitched rides to Florida or wherever they get to.

But at the height of summer I would spray in the early morning, then go out for a few hours so as not to inhale the fumes. Still, on returning I wondered if I was not in fact fumigating myself, while the bugs put out their lawn chairs and sipped piña coladas. So I can definitely relate to the sentiment expressed by songwriter and children’s entertainer Sophie Maletsky of Sophie’s World when she sings:

Brava! Now, I’m not sure how much Ms. Maletsky knows about the Spanish language. (Maybe she knows more than she lets on.) The cockroach is la cucaracha, but there is another entity known as El Cuco:

You don’t really need to grok Spanish to know that El Cuco is one scary dude. In a 2011 piece on “Scary Latino Myths,” Grace Bastidas writes:

Disobedient kids all over Latin America have always feared El Cuco. The mystery boogeyman is a dark, shapeless monster that appears out of nowhere to kidnap and eat children that don’t obey their parents. There’s even a classic rhyme that warns the kiddies that El Cuco will eat them if they don’t fall asleep early. He’s mom and dad’s best ally!

At least, he was mom and dad’s best ally. Writing more recently in The New York Times, Héctor Tobar pointed out the connection between such scary legends and Latino children’s fears of Donald Trump:

Now we can add a new boogeyman to the repertoire of scary Latino bedtime stories. His name is The Donald. Ever since he began his campaign for the Republican presidential nomination with a vicious screed against Mexican immigrants, Donald J. Trump has become a figure of dread and comic-book meanness to the Latino community. He’s a villain in a flaccid pompadour, spewing threats and insults that have filtered down into the bosom of many a Latino family, to be heard by children gathered by the television set or at the dinner table. … Mr. Trump’s campaign speaks to a child’s greatest fear: the possibility that he might be separated from his parents.

donald-trump-el-cucoSo what’s the differencia between la cucaracha and El Cuco? The first scares you for a minute, the second might scare you for a lifetime or an Age of Man.

I won’t obsessively ransack every line of Sophie Maletsky’s song for political significance, but it’s easy to picture Michelle Obama singing the part that goes:

I don’t mind if you live outside,
But please don’t come into my House;
It makes me feel all icky inside,
And it scares me much more than a mouse. (Eek!)

No, cuco, no!
No, cuco, no!
No, cuco, no!
Cuco, cuco no.

Sophie Maletsky is a woman of many talents who can also teach you how to make a panda purse out of ingredients you might find lying around the set of The Sopranos, like black duct tape. But I think her tender refrain of “No, cuco, no!” will make a lasting contribution to political discourse in the era of Trump. It’s easy to picture Chuck Schumer and Nancy Pelosi joining hands and singing a few choruses of “No, cuco, no!” when asked to privatize Medicare, deregulate Wall Steet, allow fracking in Central Park, or make Taiwan the 51st state. (I like Taiwan, but it would be impractical.)

Based on the original melody, I think I could add a couple of verses to this already excellent ditty:

Mr. Trump, I was oh so wrong
To think you were just a goober,
Filling our minds with hate,
And playing the fake news tuber.

Now you are in our House
With all your infernal relations;
You’ve proven that you’re the King
Of pestilent infestations!

No, cuco, no!
No, cuco, no!
No, cuco, no!
Cuco, cuco no.

Michael Howard

The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization. (Seriously, don’t blame anyone but me for this.)


For Further Reading

“No One Ever Told Me That Grief Felt So Like Fear” on The Impractical Cogitator blog

* * *

Trump Your Pumpkin!

Announcing the winner and runner-up in the YouTube contest to carve a place in political history.

 

Orange is the colour of my Trumpkin’s head
In the mornin’ when we rise…

Donovan

The last of the costumes have been put back in mothballs; the last of the vomit has been cleaned up off your parents’ coffee table; but there’s still one Halloween ritual left to perform: the all-important Judging of the Trumpkin Videos!

One meme begets another, so just when Trump Your Cat was starting to seem stale as old kitty-litter, along comes Halloween, and with it Trump Your Pumpkin.

We’ve sifted through more YouTubes than you can shake a femur at, scooped out the seedy ones, and baked the two finalists into a blogger’s pie for your delectation.

The Runner-Up

Deserving mucho appreciation for all the work that went into it, “It’s The Great Trumpkin!” is a parody of the classic Charlie Brown Halloween special:

The children’s voices are remarkably convincing, and I love seeing Snoopy as an illegal immigrant skulking across the border in the dead of night.

The Winner

Called “Donald Trumpkin Is Making Halloween Great Again,” the winning video is a fast-paced survey of nearly ten entries in the field, ending with a Trump Halloween mask made by a shop in Cuernavaca, Mexico, plus an interview with the proprietor. Viva El Trumpkin!

What The Future Holds

If the Trump Your Pumpkin meme should ever ring hollow, I’m confident that others may be unearthed. Perhaps actor Charles Laughton holds the key! (At least, that’s my hunch…)

donald-trump-your-hump

Michael Howard

The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization. No pumpkins were harmed during the making of this post.

Joe Kracht and Lavanya Muller (parody)


“She entered into doubt-parlor

Only to be tattooed by ignorance-ink.

He learned the jiu-jitsu of betrayal
Studying at university of no ethics.”

For further discussion, see “Paint It Black!”

(If the embedded video doesn’t play, watch on DailyMotion here.)

Explaining The Aphorisms

Sometimes aphorisms are like poetry — to get the full meaning we need to examine the language carefully in all its fine shades.

What does it mean to enter into “doubt-parlor”? Suppose you are a spiritual seeker, a person of faith. You have some friends who used to be spiritual seekers, but now their main focus is on doubt and speaking ill. You feel, “Oh, my faith is secure so of course I can mix freely with them and I will not suffer.” But doubt is like poison in the spiritual life. Just because you know it’s poison doesn’t mean you can drink it and not suffer.

You may also think, “Just because I’m not attacking anyone, therefore they won’t attack me.” But imagine you put your hand inside a snake’s cage. You may do so innocently, harmlessly, but still the nature of this snake is to bite.

In the same way, former spiritual seekers who now specialize in doubt instinctively attack the faith of any person who enters their environs. They feel your faith is an impediment to joining their social clique and want to make you faithless like them. So once you agree to go where they congregate, whether it’s a physical location or a place on the Internet, half the battle is already lost.

This battle may not take place openly, but may be more like a clandestine encounter with a pickpocket. The pickpocket embraces you warmly, but a few hours later you discover he has stolen all your money!

Never think that ignorance is not a strong force. Even one person’s ignorance may overpower your faith. How much more easily you can be overpowered when you are the only person of faith in a place where everyone else has become a black doubter. It is like one person fighting against a whole gang. (This is assuming you even bother to put up a fight. Some people go to a bad place because they secretly want to become bad people.)

So “doubt-parlor” is a place where doubters meet and congregate and advance their clever arguments. (“Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.”) Now, what is “ignorance-ink”? If you have a cloth that is pure white, then if you get ink on it, it can never be made the same again. Still, there are different types of ink. Sometimes children are given finger paints which are water-soluble and wash off easily.

Ignorance is like ink because it spoils the pure-white tablet of faith so that it is smudged or dirty. Now what does it mean to be tattooed by ignorance-ink? The ink used in tattooing is extremely permanent and is etched into the skin. This comedy skit suggests that people get tattoos when they’re drunk and are then stuck with the results, unless they want to opt for laser surgery:

So to be tattooed by ignorance-ink means that ignorance puts its permanent mark on you and calls you its own, so that you are no longer fit for a spiritual purpose.

To take the meaning of the aphorism as a whole: You are invited to join in the festivities at a place where doubters congregate. You think, “Alright, I will go but I will maintain my faith.” However, once you enter into their parlor, then like others you become drunk with doubt and are tattooed by ignorance so that you cannot get rid of it. The stain is permanent, or you do not possess the means to wash it out. Will a simple spot remover remove a tattoo? No, because the ink is in too deep. That is the favor some so-called friends are doing you.

To come to the second aphorism, what is the connection between “jiu-jitsu” and “betrayal”? Here, jiu-jitsu signifies any type of tricky move or maneuver which must be learned. The heart and soul by their nature want to remain true, but the tricky mind and vital want to find a way to throw off the spiritual commitment and live a life based on ego, desire and ambition.

It is rare for a person of faith who loses their faith to simply admit “I have fallen. I have lost what I had previously attained.” First comes disobedience, then self-justification, then a guilty conscience comes. Finally, in order to escape their own guilty conscience the person will throw all the blame on their former spiritual teacher or path. For some people this develops into a kind of complex, so that even though they left their spiritual teacher 10, 20, even 35 years ago, they are still obsessed with trying to discredit him, in order to assuage their deep-down guilty conscience.

Some people even openly admit to this without truly understanding it. They say, “Oh, I have found a wonderful new way of getting rid of guilt. I joined a support group for former spiritual seekers where we spend most days and nights publicly attacking our old teacher. Hate is a wonderful antidote to guilt.”

The only problem is that this is actually a symptom of the complex. It does not truly get rid of guilt, but only masks it temporarily. Those suffering from this complex tend to need bigger and bigger fixes of hate to mask their guilt, so they end up vilifying their former teacher to a mind-boggling extent, making up the wildest stories in order to keep the hate jag going. There is no true healing in this approach because it’s all based on lies and self-justification, not honest insight.

So “the jiu-jitsu of betrayal” is any tricky method someone learns as a way to throw off their soul’s deep spiritual commitment and betray the teacher who first gave them illumination, out of sheer compassion.

Modern science is ethically neutral. It is often not concerned with net effects on people, but only whether something is do-able. If making a bomb, can they make a bigger bomb? If making a biological weapon, can they produce a more deadly strain? That is how some destructive people think. Doubt is usually “slow poison,” but some people actually become connoisseurs of doubt. They try to refine it and make it more potent, more concentrated. Modern doubters have produced more virulent strains of doubt which are quick-acting.

When people develop an ugly and impure mind or vital, they can conjure up an ugly picture of things — things which are inherently beautiful in themselves. The impure imagination becomes a kind of demonic laboratory from which new, more virulent strains of doubt are culled. One should protect one’s aspiration by not visiting places where such people congregate — whether in real life, or on the Internet.

Some psychologists are dead set against the spiritual life, so they’ve developed powerful techniques or psyops for combating faith — comprehensive, systematized methods of injecting doubt and pressuring seekers to abandon their faith. This is known as deprogramming or exit counseling, but like tattooing or ear-piercing it’s practiced by amateurs as well as professionals. (See “Sock Puppet Theatre – A Tribute to Samuel Bradshaw.”)

Some anti-cult groups morph or change their tactics over time, renaming themselves and eventually coming to use a soft-sell rather than hard-sell approach. See Part 2 and Part 3 of my series on “The ACLU and Religious Freedom,” as well as “Doubt, Faith, and the Ethics of Apostasy.” People don’t know the history of these groups and don’t recognize the techniques being used to rob them of their faith — professional deprogramming techniques like employing apostates to circulate false “testimonials” vilifying the spiritual teacher or path.

If you look carefully, you’ll see that such euphemistically named “support groups” often have hard-core members who’ve undergone formal deprogramming, exit counseling, or anti-cult therapy, e.g. Samuel Bradshaw, Anne Carlton, et al. These people are then encouraged to practice the same techniques on others, sometimes in an informal setting where they conceal or deny their affiliation with anti-cult groups.

How does the soft-sell differ from the hard-sell? The hard-sell is all poison, poison, poison. The soft-sell is: “People are not drinking the poison because it is too bitter. Let us set up a fake spiritual site, something to do with yoga, with spiritual quotes and artwork. Then, once we sucker people in, let us give them just enough poison to kill them. Initially they won’t know that we are all apostates, so they will stupidly drink the poison if we sweeten it a little.”

sri-chinmoy-yoga

Look to the methods, not the labels. Some sites may put up a spiritual veneer, but are actually ex-members groups where the main thrust is to get people to read highly negative material, and respond by abandoning their faith.

Like wife-beaters, some people are deeply troubled in their nature. They may claim they love their former spiritual master, but they torture him regularly. Stop the torture and I will believe that you love him. Otherwise, I will say you are a sick individual.

Each person is different. It may happen that a spiritual master advises a student: “Stay close to the spiritual community. Don’t go for a law degree or it will totally ruin your spiritual life.” The student disobeys, and lo and behold! Now that he’s a lawyer, instead of showing devotion to the spiritual master, he only wants to subject the master (now long-dead) to mock show trials on the Internet! Such displays of vigilantism are worthy of disbarment. Still:

Joe Kracht Lawton Law Firm Parody 1

Joe Kracht Lawton Law Firm Parody 1

Continuing on with my analysis, what is “university of no ethics”? To learn a systematized method of doing something, you go to a school which teaches that very thing. Universities originally emerged from a monastic tradition in which faith and ethics played a most significant role. Gradually over centuries, a “great divorce” occurred between religion, science, and the humanities. Today, it’s possible to receive a university degree without knowing anything about spirituality or ethics. Some former spiritual seekers will even go to the length of getting a degree in psychology which they then use to attack spirituality. (Of course, spirituality and psychology can get along well together. Here I’m only referring to a fringe group of psychologists who actively oppose spiritual practice, just as there’s a fringe group of psychologists who participate in military torture.)

As I discuss in “Paint It Black!” apostates often trash-talk their former friends, colleagues and mentors in a shameful and two-faced manner. They may learn such behavior through participation in institutions which impart secular knowledge divorced from ethics and spirituality. They have been processed by a college or university, or by the military, or by a school which emphasizes physical conditioning and self-defense, but teaches next to nothing about loyalty or ethics. This conspicuous spiritual vacuum makes it easy for people to engage in wanton acts of betrayal. They may be experts in their limited fields, but in the field of life they are nowhere because they’ve sacrificed the core values which imbue life with spiritual meaning. This is what it means to learn “the jiu-jitsu of betrayal/ studying at university of no ethics.”

Such faithless persons of no ethics often end up coaching others in the ways of betrayal, helping them achieve the “full Judas position” — a position of utter treachery. Sadly, such coaches may fail to provide the requisite thirty pieces of silver, or the noose to hang oneself when conscience dawns.

Attorney Joe Kracht drilling a new deprogrammee

Attorney Joe Kracht drilling a new deprogrammee (artist’s conception)

Michael Howard

The views expressed are my own, and do not represent any other person or organization.

Items which may interest you:

Sarama — The Hound of Intuition
Self-Interest, Self-Giving, Low Ethics, and High Ethics

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