The vile orange smear says that he may not leave the White House when he loses the upcoming election. Bwahaha! He's gonna waddle downstairs and hide out in the bunker. He thinks he's Anne Frank without the charm. He'll even think he's "winning" until the real President removes widdle Donnie's pacifier, his phone; his tweeter machine; the only thing his stubby little fingers have abused that haven't sued him for sexual assault. Eventually, as with everything old and rotten, the bunker will smell of fetid white trash and they will flush it. Then they will create a new national holiday - Never Trumper Tuesday. Glorious, no?
August 2, 2020
He wanted to become a fireman.
She was upset and told him so.
She reminded him that he was an accountant.
She said he'd never lifted anything heavier than a ledger book.
He said he needed some excitement in his life. Fires seemed exciting.
She wanted to know what was going to happen if he got horribly disfigured in a terrible accident. Maybe a roof collapse. Maybe a crazed arsonist.
He said he would then just go back to accounting. Numbers don't care what you look like.
She acquiesced.
He went to fire school.
He got hit by a fire truck on his first day and died on the second.
To mitigate liability, the fire school told her he had been killed by a crazed arsonist escaping a roof collapse. They were sorry for her loss.
She said she knew it. She knew it! Chalked it off to women's intuition and went on with her life.
Moral of the story? Well obviously, fire trucks are bad. Bad trucks. Bad bad trucks. Duh.
August 3, 2020
Overheard two couples at the grocery.
-- What say we invite Marge and Colin over and make this a real party?
-- I hate Colin. You know that.
-- And Marge is a phony. Why would you suggest them coming?
-- I don't know. It seemed like a good idea?
-- He wants Marge here because he thinks she's hot and he wanted to ogle her all night.
-- Is that true, Barry?
-- I dunno. Yeah, I guess.
-- Well what's the matter with ogling my Barbara here?
-- Marvin!
-- I'm just saying. Don't you think Barb is hot?
-- Well, yeah, she's kinda hot.
-- Barry!
-- Well she is. But I don't want your wife, Marvin.
-- Whoa, don't I get a say in this?
-- Barb-
-- Shut up, Marvin. You're the one who offered me up like dessert. Why don't you want me, Barry? What's Marge got that I haven't got? Come on, Barry, spit it out.
-- Relax, Barb. He just craves little phony Marge. Well fine, let's invite them. Let's watch Barry make a fool of himself. Let's watch Barry drool over someone who isn't his wife - in front of his wife! You bastard! I HATE you Barry Podolski!
-- Ok, ok, so we won't invite Marge and Colin to the party. It'll be just us. That way it stays an intimate evening between two couples and not some all out orgy with Barry humping Marge and the rest of us hating Colin. You good with that?
-- Yeah.
-- Ok.
-- Sure, whatever.
August 5, 2020
You know how people say someone has an old soul? Well what if you're just old, with no soul, et tu Donnie?
August 7, 2020
Ah, the election. Let's see.
On the one hand, you've got a mentally ill musician running for President.
On the other hand, you've got a mentally ill President running for President.
So to recap, you've got two mentally ill mofos running for President.
It was the biggest game of beach volleyball ever played. Here is the final point being served in what has been dubbed the Match of the Century by people with small minds too easily excited by hyperbole and big balls.
August 9, 2020
LETTER OF THE MONTH
Dear Keith,
My name is Charlotte and I am 14. I am a budding poet. I rhyme stuff all the time. Just regular things like laundry and ponder. Anyway, the other day I made a rhyme that really made me stop and think. Did you know that Trump rhymes with cunt? Think that's a coincidence?
Sincerely,
Poet Charlotte
Dear Poetess C,
There are no coincidences. In this case it's synchronicity.
August 10, 2020
I am not a touch typist, nor am I delicate. With two fingers I pound the keyboard hard, a legacy of my manual typewriter days. I have beat this thing so mercilessly I've worn off the lettering on 4 keys - the A, S, M and N; at least I think that's what they are. Well meaning people have asked why I don't modulate my brutal typing. Fools! They don't know that the harder you smash those keys, the better your writing will be. It's a fundamental law of nature. Is too.
August 12, 2020
You talk to yourself all the time. We all do. The difference between you and me? I listen.
August 13, 2020
I found some of my books on free file sharing sites. Authors are usually livid when that happens. But I'm not upset that it's being read and could possibly better someone's life for having read it. Whether I make money off that exchange is secondary. Does that mean I'm going to start giving away books for free on my site? Silly you! No, no it does not.
August 14, 2020
LETTER OF THE MONTH (cont'd)
Dear Keith,
This is Charlotte again. Ok, this guy who used to work for Trump says that he is "a cheat, a liar, a fraud, a bully, a racist, a predator and a con man." Maybe that's why Trump rhymes with cunt. You think?
Sincerely,
Poet Charlotte
Dear Poetess C,
If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck. As an aside, does your mother know you read this site?
August 17, 2020
In the multiverse theory there are an unlimited number of realities in which a prick like Trump is rotting in jail and enduring the invasions of felonious strangers precisely because he is, was, and will always be, a pussy. Comforting, no?
August 18, 2020
She was about to give her first reading of her first novel. Nervous, she thought she'd start off with a cute story to ease her anxiety. "Two adorable puppies-" and was immediately interrupted by someone in the audience who said, "For Christ sakes, ALL puppies are adorable. Name a puppy that isn't adorable. You can't! There is none! So don't start off with an obvious redundancy that you feel the need to repeat as if we didn't know. This makes me think you don't know. Adorable puppies indeed." The author stood there stupefied, unable to respond, unable to go on, unable to process what was happening. She was, however, doing a pretty good job of unravelling.
Fiction writers aren't customarily persons in the best of mental health.
Kurt Vonnegut
August 19, 2020
Before pot was legal in Canada, two friends were dead set against it and often delivered sermons on the dangers of marijuana. Now, two years after legalization, both are huge pot smokers and neither can believe they ever railed against it. You must be misremembering, they said. Uh huh, I replied.
August 20, 2020
I was on our screened porch going through some stuff when I kept getting buzzed by a fruit fly. Sometimes it would land on my arm or the box I was looking through, but mostly it just strafed me. I told the fly to bugger off but it persisted. Anyway, I finish my task and turn to exit the porch when the fly zips past my ear and straight into a spider's web. The vibration of the struggling fly alerts the web's owner and the arachnid speeds toward the captured prey, spins a few strands of silk around it and proceeds to eat it alive. Lordy, sure that fly was annoying, but come on, no one deserves an end like that.
August 21, 2020
Overheard at the airport.
-- I'm afraid all we have left are middle seats.
-- I'll take a middle seat. How about you put me between the two prettiest girls on the plane.
-- I'm afraid that is against the rules.
-- Ok then, just one good looking girl. Sit me next to her.
-- I'm sorry, sir. I didn't notice anyone's looks when they checked in.
-- Don't give me that. You're hot. All hot girls notice when another hot girl enters the scene.
-- The scene?
-- Come onnnnn. It's a 5 hour flight across the country. Do me a solid. Get me next to a babe so I can enjoy my trip. Your sign says that you want happy passengers. Make me happy.
-- You really think I'm hot?
-- Girl, you're a sizzling, slow burn, touch-if-you-dare kind of hot. If I wasn't catching a flight...
-- Well, there was this one girl... 14B. That should make you happy.
-- You're a sweetheart! Thank you.
-- You know what I liked best?
-- What.
-- Touch-if-you-dare. That, my man, was sexy.
-- Damn, if I wasn't catching a flight...
August 22, 2020
I was in a waiting room waiting my turn when the woman next to me poked me with her elbow, held up her tablet and exclaimed, "The Internet is shit! Everybody just repeats what everybody else says. There's nothing good to read. Pisses me off. You got any suggestions?" May I? She handed me her tablet and I punched up a favorite KeithSpeak from years ago and handed it back to her just as the receptionist called my name. C'est moi, infecting one person at a time.
August 23, 2020
Tiffany Trump is the keynote speaker at Douchebag Donnie's Republican Convention of Clowns and Criminals. Tiffany! That's awesome, nobody said ever. So what does that say for Fake Freddy and his Festival of Fascists? Look how pathetic we are! We're so pitiful! that the only person willing to stand up in front of the world and support Douchebag Donnie and his demented dreams is his daughter of zero consequence! OMG it's Tiffany! DOA.
August 25, 2020
Overheard a woman on her cell phone (just her side of the conversation).
-- I told you I was pressured!
--
-- Herb, I got nervous! He was a hustler, a high pressure salesman and I got flustered and the next thing I knew I was signing the contract. I know I shouldn't have but-
--
-- What?! How much? $14,000 for vinyl siding? Do we need vinyl siding?
--
-- I don't know what I signed! Herb, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I lost my head.
--
-- Don't say that, Herb. You don't mean that. Stop right there before you say something you can't take back.
--
-- I'm warning you.
--
-- Ok, that's it! I've had enough of your temper tantrums! You make me nervous all the time! When's Herb gonna blow up again. Walk on egg shells, Herb's pissed. Tiptoe quietly lest you make Herb mad. Screw you and your Jekyll/Hyde bullshit. I've had it up to here, Herb. I sure didn't do it on purpose but now I'm glad I stuck you with a 14 thou bill. You can think of me every time you hear people walk by the house and say, Vinyl siding looks so cheap. The guy who lives there must be a real asshole to his wife. Bye, Herb.
August 26, 2020
Poetess Charlotte got me thinking of all the other things that rhyme with Trump:
cunt (of course)
chump
idiot
stupid deluded old man
charlatan
quack
criminal
psychopath
loser
lying piece of shit
goober
douchebag
schmuck
loser
And finally, how to rhyme Trump using a sentence: If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, then it probably is a duck. Now substitute cunt for duck.
August 27, 2020
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I dunno. Do we need to add any more? Are these not statements that can stand on their own? Won't more words just dilute the power of the initial declarations? Is verbiage that important? Isn't less more? Is this how haiku started?
August 28, 2020
He said he was from west Africa though he wouldn't name a specific country. When pressured, he said that he was from Chad (a landlocked country smack dab in the middle of Africa, no more west than east). When asked the capital of Chad, he said he didn't know (it's N'Djamena). When asked what city he was from in Chad, he said he couldn't remember (who can't remember where they're from?). When asked what language they spoke in Chad, he guessed, English? with a question mark like he was asking the question (it's Arabic and French). In the end, turns out he isn't from Chad at all.
August 29, 2020
The rest of the world is saying the USA is no longer exceptional, unless you count the number of COVID deaths and infections. Then they're number 1. Of course Trump's magnificent ignorance celebrates that ignominious pandemic chart topper with a dollop of schadenfreude: "We're number 1, baby. With a bullet!" Illustrating precisely why the rest of the world is saying the USA is no longer exceptional.
August 31, 2020
WHITE HOUSE CONVERSATIONS
-- Where's my hairspray?
-- Donnie Jr. borrowed it for his beard, sir.
-- His beard? Who hairsprays their damn beard? That dirty ass facial hair makes him look like a monkey.
-- You want me to get the hairspray from him?
-- Forget it. I'll do it after the tanning booth.
-- I'm sorry, sir, but Eric is using it.
-- What! That pale prick! Throw his ass out, I'm the President. I'm the one that has to look orange. Where's Jared?
-- He's in the lobby awaiting your orders, sir.
-- Tell the little zombie I want Taco Bell for lunch. And not the super spicy stuff. makes me look bloated. I'll wear my red tie today in case I spill.
-- Good idea, Daddy.
-- Ivanka, where did you come from?
-- I've been here the whole time, Daddy.
-- Wow, didn't even know you were there. Definition of inconsequential, eh. Hey, does Eric know his aunt called him a moron.
-- He does, Daddy.
-- This family...
-- Sir, Jared wants to know if you want a chalupa?
-- What in God's name is a chal-o-poppy?
-- Chalupa. It's a-
-- Tell that son of Dracula they'll be no Spanish chipolinos spoken here! We only eat their food. Hab-lo el food-o.
-- Yes sir, no chalupa.
-- You got that right. Is the dirty bearded chimp done with my hairspray?
-- I thought you were going to tan first, Daddy.
-- You calling me a liar?
-- Uh, er, no! No, Daddy. I just thought-
-- You thought. Go and make sure your effeminate husband knows no chiliponkas! That boy never does anything right. And tell Eric to get the fuck out of the tanning booth. And get my goddamn hairspray back from Junior! God, this family!
