You look around a little sheepishly, but you do not see the bathrooms. Finally, off in a corner you see a little gold plaque on a door. That must be it. You proceed apace in that direction. When all of a sudden you are embroiled in an ontological debate:
Facts and science have no more place in our lives since “the people” cast their votes and democracy and moral integrity got trumped, and I think it is high time that we embraced the world of ‘trumphacts’ [n. plur.,ˈtrʌmp-fækts’].
Although we admire your efforts, the sad truth is that we have reached the end of satire.
It is a prerequisite of satire to be more outrageous than the subject. Our new Monomaniac-in-Chief, however, cannot be outflanked. As insane as your Trump monologues sound, the real Trump (if one may assert such a thing) is more likely to hire you as a speechwriter than be given pause to reflect.
It is the end of an era for all of us. We have had a long run of presidents who were perfect subjects of satire – Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, “W” – who never let us down or left us wanting new material. We had a crook, a bumbler, a peanut farmer, an actor, and… well…“W” as perfect fodder and foils for our wit and parry. Continue reading →
As an equal-opportunity curmudgeon, I feel no sense of shame in my grumpy mutterings because, in the course of a year, each reader will find him- or herself singled out and injuriously slandered by my offhanded remarks. It is the nature of the beast.
THANKSGIVING DAY, November 24, 2016 – As Americans gather around the Thanksgiving tables this afternoon to make the traditional Thanksgiving duck lips and peace signs in front of our cameras, I think we should take time out to have a look at what we should be thankful for this year.
Especially from an Instagram point of view.
The Thanksgiving selfie (what I am hoping that we will begin to call the “turkie”) shows us how much we have progressed since 1653. We have much about which to be proud and thankful.
Today we take our selfies seriously. Making sure that the Thanksgiving meal is in the background, maybe part of granny’s nose and a couple of cousins (and their smartphones too), we digitize and share a wealth of photos of ourselves. The original Plymouth pilgrims could only dream of such bounty. Continue reading →
I woke up this morning not to any kind of “New America” but to an America that has finally allowed its baser instincts to chew through the leash on which they have been held for many years and take charge.
While my memory is not the sharpest or the best in the world, I think I can manage to remember where I am. Most of the time anyway.
Still, it never ceases to amaze me at how many times, in the course of a normal month, week, day, and (on bad days) hour, people will invoke this sentence as a definitive argument and statement of fact. People will constantly tell me THIS IS SERBIA when I wonder why I cannot figure out the city bus schedule. Why does every official act require a mile-high stack of signed and stamped papers? THIS IS SERBIA! Where is the waiter with my change? THIS IS SERBIA! Why do we repair all the roads at once when the traffic is highest? THIS IS SERBIA!
We usually think we don’t have enough of it, as if it would suddenly run out. And sometimes time seems to stand still. We set ourselves appointments in time, deadlines in time, and sometimes allow ourselves a timeout.
The whole world has agreed to this arbitrary standard, as a means of segmenting our finite human sojourn on this planet. We have divided it up into a certain amount of months, weeks, days, and hours and we agree to allow it to reign supreme over all our activities. Time is a cruel master – it never bends to our needs and we are forever chasing after it.
While America is reeling and holding its head at the thought of Donald Trump as a possible 45th President of the United States, so too is Serbia biting its nails to see who will come out on top of the extraordinary one-party elections coming soon to this country.