Trumpelstiltskin's Non-Ballistic Missile

In tv's latest reality show, REPUBLICAN PRESIDENTIAL DEBATES, the producers have upped the ante. No more getting voted off the island or “fired.” Lose ground in a debate and you Get Your Balls Cut Off by one of the other contestants.

So Trumpelstiltskin went on tv again. He went to a debate and said things with his balls. He also said things with his brain and his ass but  nobody could tell the difference.  They didn't know if he was a smart-ass or a lame-brain. But then Fox News said, “Trumpelstiltskin, get your balls cut off.”

So Trumpelstiltskin chose a technology executive so she would do a good job. And then everybody said, Ha,ha, Trumpelstiltskin got his balls cut off by a girl. Now he doesn't have any balls.

“Don't worry,” surgeon Fiorina assured him. “You're still bald.”

ON SALE NOW !!!

“I still say Klingons is the niggers of outer space,” Curtis Baumgartner said.

          Wayne Clewless took a slug of Pabst, then set down the can with authority and stared down the bar at Baumgartner like he was sighting him with his .22. “And I keep tellin you they ain't no niggers in space.”

          “I ain't talkin bout actual niggers. I'm sayin they is the niggers of space.”

          “And I'm sayin they ain't no niggers in space.”
        “ What he's sayin Wayne,” Buddy Burnsed stepped in, “ is ever place has its niggers. And in space it's the Klingons.”

          “But how'd they ever get in space? And how'd a bunch a niggers build a space ship? Answer me that. ”

          “Them Klingon ships do look like they's nigger-rigged, Curtis,” Buddy Burnsed said.

          “They ain't... regular... niggers,” Curtis Baumgartner explained, exasperated. “They got regular niggers on the Enterprise. You kin see the diff'rence.”

          “Okay. So you's sayin' they's space niggers.”

          “If thet's the closest you kin come to unnerstandin it, Wayne, then yeah. They's space niggers.”

          Wayne stared upward, visualizing the final frontier in the glo-in-the-dark stars glued to the ceiling.  “Well, if they's niggers in space, then why they ain't no Klan?  Answer me that.”

          Curtis almost fell off his stool.  “Wayne, you idiot – what'd you think the Fed'ration is?”

          Buddy Burnsed muttered “Jesus Christ, Wayne,” into his beer.   


from The Last Opus of Hector Berlioz ...  available on Amazon Kindle or e-mail for a real book

"Levine is laugh out loud.  He is a master of the genre."  - Midwest Book Review

an awful lot of baloney being sliced for us

just a reminder here that at the same time Orlando is planning to give its citizens processed urine to drink and shower in to protect the aquifer, Niagara's deal to take away millions of gallons each day was renewed and their allotment increased.  People who dislike being played for a fool might consider taking some meaningful action.  

enuff already

So then Trumplestiltskin came back to Earth and tried to be president again but Barak O'Bama said, “No, man. Look at you. You're a zombie.”

Then Trumpelstiltskin looked at himself and it even scared him. So he had a lot of baby black people and then called up Hilary Clinton and asked her to kill all the Irish people and Hilary Clinton said she probably would. Then Trumpelstiltskin loved Barak O'bama and sent him a giant scab off the top of his head where his beautiful spun gold used to be. Then all the Arabs started having baby Mexicans and that really made them stop and think.

the end

Rump Rant

I feel compelled to point out something to people getting excited about Donald Duck for president.  The thing about it is, the President of the United States is supposed to be our representative in the government, the rabble’s man.  Because we’re the ones who vote him in.  All the promises are made to the commoners, nobody else, all the pie in the sky is aimed at we the feeble.  So he’s got to be our advocate;  the man elected to a position of strength who keeps at bay the dogs of wealth from gobbling us up entirely. That’s what we’re hoping for.  We want someone from our team with a righteous fire in his belly to take ahold of the reigns and drive the buggy to the beach.  But the fact is, nobody from our team could possibly become president.  He may start out on our team but before he can be considered for the job, he must abdicate to the other side, heart and soul.   Nobody could be farther on the other side than a multi-billionaire. 

You know how when you get up a baseball game and you’re a couple people shy of full teams so someone from the team that’s batting plays catcher?  And you know how you never really trust that guy to try his best to catch a foul ball or tag out the runner?  Well, it’s like that.  Ignoring politics makes complete sense but why in Dr. Ruth's underwear would you get excited about a billionaire representing you?   It smacks not of democracy but worship.  And it’s pathetic.   Hey, I’ll bet if all the marionettes reached up and cut their strings, the puppeteer would just fall over backwards.

Return of Trumpelstiltskin

So Trumpelstiltskin rubbed his hands together excitedly.  But just before he said what the deal would be, he noticed a talking Bush nearby.  The Bush said, “Trumpelstiltskin, you like Hilary Clinton and think she can talk to Irabians.  That sounds like you’re not conservative.   You can’t be president anymore, Trumpelstiltskin.   I’m going to impeach you.”

                Then Trumpelstiltskin said, “You can’t impeach me, you stupid Bush.  I’m dead.”

                “Oh no,” the Buish wailed, “Trumpelstiltskin is dead.  Trumpelstiltskin is dead.”

                Trumpelstiltskin just looked at it.  “Bushes are stupid,” he thought.

                Thinking distracted Trumpelstiltskin so much that he stood up and the Customs official Martian got away.   Then the Martian yelled, “Ha! Ha!  No deal for the illegal alien!”

                When Trumpelstiltskin heard that, he decided he might as well rape all the Martians as long as he was there.  But then he saw Barak O’Bama coming in an angel drawn chariot. 

                Barak O’Bama yelled, “Saints be praised,Trumpelstiltskin, you’re in my care now.  You can’t escape just by flopping around in space.  I’m everywhere.”

                So Trumpelstiltskin got in the chariot but he smelled so bad by then that Barak O’Bama kicked him back to Earth.  “Here’s your second chance, Stiltskin,” he said.

                  

More to come…