Trump Is Smarter Than A Meatball

Last week I asked if it was coincidence that the moment I began to write about Donald J. Trump that Big Balls by AC/DC was playing iTunes.

Maybe yes, maybe no, but I am sure there is no coincidence between my doing so again while Meatloaf serenades me.

Yeah, I have Paradise By The Dashboard Light playing because we already know that I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That) just wouldn’t work.

Some of the readers of that initial post were disappointed that I asked If Trump is Smarter Than A Matzah Ball.

“Josh, that is a rude and unfair comparison to make.”

You are right and since I feel badly about putting the Donald in a position in which he can’t win I am declaring today that he is indeed, smarter than a meatball.

Dealing With The Facts

Since I know some of you are going to insist we deal with the facts I thought about contacting the Deflater-In-Chief, Tom Brady, you know the guy who serves as Bill Bellicheck’s big toe to comment on the issue.

Remember Old Tom is the guy who may or may not be a supporter of Trump the same way he may or may not have been stripped by Charles Woodson.

I was all set to contact Brady when I made a shocking discovery about Trump and The Lorax.

Y’all might think that fella is as real and authentic as Trump’s hair but you’d be shocked to find out how close to the truth you really are.

The Lorax has been hiding in plain sight for years– he is Trump’s hair and probably the source of his intelligence too.

If you think that is ridiculous consider the fact that the next president is a former reality television star.

Cue Strange Barry Manilow Connection/Interpolation:


If you don’t understand the crazy connection between the words above and Barry Manilow all I can say is maybe you’ll figure it out somewhere down the road.

And now back to our unscheduled snark and madness.


I Keep Pounding On The Door

Fifteen hundred miles away from here there is a meeting taking place that I want to sit in on but can’t.

The hardest part about it isn’t that I am 1,500 miles away but that I wouldn’t be allowed to be a part even if I were five miles away.

Or maybe it is more accurate to say that even if I was invited, I am not sure what I have to say would be heard, accepted or understood.

There are some moments in life in which I have no problem walking away from with complete confidence because I know I did all I could do.

Doesn’t matter what the outcome is, I go to sleep knowing I gave all I had and that is enough.

And there are some where I never find that peace of mind, where I keep scrambling because my best never feels quite good enough and I think that one more try will do it.

One more step. One more push. One more punch.

But not here, not this. I have done all I am capable of doing and though there is a lot of time left, it still grinds upon me because I feel like I just didn’t do enough.

Calling Trump’s Hair

I’d call Trump’s hair, er, The Lorax and ask for some advice.

Creatures that are clearly clever and wily have wisdom to share and I’d gladly ask it to give me a word or two.

But there is no Batphone or Bat Signal to use and people would probably frown if I tried to get its attention by chopping down trees.

So yeah, I have things on my mind that have pushed me to engage in some general silliness and that is ok with me.

There is only so much time to talk about how a conman fooled so many people into voting for him.

And yeah I know it makes some people uncomfortable to be told they helped elect someone so profoundly unqualified and incapable to office.

That is why some of you have reacted so strongly to posts about whether he is smarter than a matzah ball.

I suspect it is tied into why some have been so unwilling to consider whether fears about him and his horrific choices for cabinet are justified.

No one likes to be told they are stupid or to hear they are part of the dumbing down of America so I’ll let that go…for now.

Besides I’d rather join you in lollipop land where we make sure our Facebook feeds are filled with like minded individuals because the echo chamber is never as scary as challenging our beliefs.

And as I always say, I do hope to be proven wrong and will gladly admit so if it happens.

But before I go, let me ask if you prefer Joe Cocker’s cover of With A Little Help From My Friends to The Beatles?

I sort of think I do, but I am not positive.

But I definitely am certain that I prefer Johnny Cash’s cover of Hurt to Nine Inch Nails.

He made that into his own.

</End of silly post>

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