"Everything is as it should be."

                                                                                  - Benjamin Purcell Morris



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Curious George and the Banana Republic

Estimated Reading Time : 3 minutes and 48 seconds

Yesterday was one of those strange days where the surreality of events makes me chuckle while everyone else is pulling their hair out screaming. I got a text from a friend telling me that FBI director James Comey had been fired and that "shit was about to get real". I replied that if he "thought shit was getting real now, wait until Trump replaces Comey with Rudy Guiliani". No doubt it will be the height of dictatorial comedy when Trump tries to replace Comey with Guiliani or a Guiliani-type, a "tough talking - no nonsense" buffoon who will be his unabashed toady, to do all of his bidding and relentlessly watch his back. Former NYPD Commissioner Raymond Kelly came to my mind as well, since Trump really only knows people from New York. The most entertaining pick would be Chris Christie, because that bastard is not only corrupt and combative, but so desperate to stay in Trump's good graces he will do absolutely anything that is asked of him…anything. Whoever Trump appoints, they are going to be expected to scuttle any and all investigations into Trump and Co., and they will probably succeed. Ladies and gentlemen…Welcome to the Banana Republic!! Try on our Fulton Stretch Skinny Chino in Burgundy or Grass Green, on sale now for only $69.50!!

Adding to the bizarre events of yesterday, after my friend's text, I turned on my tv and got to watch a slow speed non-chase of Jim Comey's motorcade driving through L.A. traffic on the way to the airport. Being the civic minded individual that I am, I quickly wrote a sign on a poster board and ran to the nearest freeway overpass to let Comey know I supported him. Sadly, by the time I got there Comey was long gone and had already boarded the FBI's private jet to return to D.C. It is just as well, as on the walk home I realized I had written "Run O.J. Run" on my sign. Old habits die hard I suppose, at least a lot harder than ex-wives and unlucky waiters anyway. As usual I was a quarter of a century late, and more than a few dollars short…onward home I marched.

When I got home, dejected from my catastrophic sign failure, I turned on my tv, but in a sure fire sign that God is real and Irish (or that Spectrum is really just Time Warner's shitty service with a brand new name), my television was no longer working. I admit I was angry I would not be able to waste hours on end listening to members of the Clinton Cult who had ranted against Comey for months on end, including earlier this week, hypocritically do the same over his firing. Adding insult to injury, I also wasn't able to watch the N.Y. Rangers playoff game. As my frustration grew at my hockey watching impotence, I did the previously unthinkable…I washed my hands of the entire evening and went and read a book.

The reason this turn of events proves God exists and is Irish, is that the Rangers lost and were eliminated from the playoffs and I didn't have to suffer watching it. In addition, God spared me from hearing the outrage from every talking head on the cable channels, who, no doubt, all said the same thing over and over again about Nixon and Tuesday Night Massacres®. God is not only Irish, but kind and merciful.

As for the book, well, reading is for nerds, and I am not very good at it, but the book was interesting and I guess, pretty good as far as books go. I admit I didn't understand a lot of it, but I was certainly entertained when the lead character, a monkey named Curious George, threw baseballs to kids to distract them during a fire at their schoolhouse. Of course, he only did that after nearly killing an entire fire crew and destroying their station (which is paid for by my tax dollars) with his idiocy...or was it something more insidious than idiocy? Somehow, after ruining everything he touched, Curious George was labelled a hero at the end of the story. As I said, I didn't understand the story at all, but being the simpleton that I am, the pictures delighted me no end.

In my mind, and this is just an opinion, Curious George is not "curious" at all, but an asshole. It takes an incredible amount of cognitive dissonance to think George does not intentionally try to harm people. And how does he get away with it all? Who does he know in the halls of power that he consistently avoids being held accountable for his destructive actions? Does he have something on the district attorney? That may be the only way to explain how he never faces charges of reckless endangerment, wanton destruction of property or even manslaughter? If I had my way George would be at a research facility having baseball bats tested on his testicles, but that is just me, I can be cruel like that.

As a side note, I am absolutely convinced that the Man in the Yellow Hat is a pedophile. There is just something not right about that guy. And how is he able to have a monkey and not have him on a leash? Dogs do not have opposable thumbs but if you don't leash them you pay heavy fines…why can you have a monkey who can cause much more damage than a dog, and not face any serious criminal or civil liability for the destruction he causes, and not have to put them on a leash?

And who cleans up George's shit? I never see the Man in the Yellow Hat with a plastic bag or anything. He strikes me as the kind of guy who just pretends he didn't see George take a dump on the steps of the public library and then walks away whistling. How many people have slipped on George's poop and twisted an ankle or fell and hit their head, or just had their shoes ruined? Somebody has to do something about this George character and his relentless "curiosity", because if they don't, someone is going to get seriously hurt or, God-forbid, killed. 

Anyway…in case you're interested, the synapsis of the book, titled "Curious George and the Firefighters", is basically, Curious George starts a fire, nearly kills an entire fire station and then throws a baseball. Usually the first thing that would come to mind reading that exact scenario would be George W. Bush, 9-11 and his first pitch at the World Series, but yesterday it made me think of The Donald. 

Donald Trump is Incurious George II, a vindictive, malevolent and tyrannical primate who destroys everything he touches with his tiny monkey paws, from the office of the presidency to Preet Bharara, Sally Yates and Jim Comey. Luckily for Incurious George II, he has a coterie of ass-kissers, the House and Senate Republicans, who will clean up his every mess, or just turn the other way pretending not to notice his disasters as they walk off whistling.

The media and political establishment uproar over Trump's firing of Comey will probably, like all the other scandals, amount to little more than sound and fury signifying nothing because Trump inherited his imperial presidency from Incurious George I - Dubya, and from Mr. Hope and Bullshit himself, Obama. 

Trump is stomping on "traditions", not breaking laws, and that is why he will never truly be held to account. This is what an imperial presidency looks like, when laws do not restrain the power of the executive, but his goodwill and good nature are supposed to. Well, now we have a syphilitic monkey as Commander-in-Chief who is only able to be restrained by his better nature, of which he has none, and we have no one to blame but ourselves. The right trusted Dubya, the left trusted Obama, and now we are stuck with The Donald.

And one last thing…if we get lucky and Trump is actually impeached or resigns or is locked in a a closet with Ivanka at Mar-a-Lago which he can't quite figure out how to open, then we are stuck with President Pence, or as I call him, The Man in the Yellow Hat. With Trump gone and seemingly vanquished, the resistance will dissipate and disappear, and a focused, driven, disciplined and viciously efficient President Pence with all three branches of government (Executive, Legislative and Judicial), will have free reign to do as he pleases, and we will all be pining for the glory days of our (in)curious, orange-haired, pussy-grabbing simian friend and his predictable unpredictability. God help us all.