Tag Archives: Donald J. Trump

THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE TRUMPOCALYPSE

You can see them nightly on the evening news. Riding angrily across America’s skies like agents of intractable doom.

HATE, LIES, TREACHERY AND FEAR. The four horsemen of Donald Trump’s dreams. Demons unleashed daily in service to his lust for power, riches and revenge. Their shadows race across our great land seemingly unstoppable, provoking discord, division, and destruction in their wake. 

You can hear their malevolent injunctions thundering across America’s storm-filled skies: “Hate your neighbor,” “Fear anyone who is different.” ”Worship me.” “Believe everything I say.”

And their demands grow louder as the hoofbeats draw ever closer. They disturb your sleep, upend our daily lives, and destroy any sense of security or stability we once enjoyed.

No matter that lives were lost, others destroyed, on January 6th; or that 250 years of the peaceful transfer of power was peremptorily upended in Trump’s failed attempt to subjugate the will of the voters, and the soul of the Constitution, to keep himself in power. 

Just as it apparently doesn’t matter to Trump that the lives of innocent Haitian families living legally in Springfield, Ohio have been thrown into turmoil in response to a lie he voiced, and refused to retract after learning it was debunked. 

Those of us who can see Trump clearly for what he is, cannot understand why his followers seem so blind to his fecklessness, his cruelty, or his narcissistic need to elevate himself at the expense of others. Yes, he’s a racist and misogynist; as well as a convicted felon, sexual predator and stealer of his country’s most sensitive secrets. 

So obvious are Trump’s faults and weaknesses, it seems almost biblical that someone that evil and weighted down with the Devil’s baggage could be embraced and worshipped by legions of followers like a golden calf.

One look at the devastation Trump left behind after his first—and God, please, only—term as president should evoke a gagging response to the idea of his ever returning to the Oval Office. Under Trump’s inept management of the Covid crisis, America’s death rate ran 40%-60% higher than all other industrial nations, making him responsible for upwards of 400,000 of the million Americans who died.

DEATH, you’ll recall was one of the bible’s original Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

You can look it up in Trump’s bible if you don’t believe me.

SHERLOCK HOLMES AND THE CASE OF THE MISSING INCLINATION

      

  “Watson, we are in difficulty!”

       These words rang out from the interior of our shared sitting room where, through the smog of his acrid pipe tobacco, I could see Sherlock Holmes stooped hungrily over documents at his desk.

       “What’s the problem, Holmes?” I inquired.

       “What’s the problem?” he laughed back. “If I knew that, Watson, I would scarce have a problem!” 

       “And those papers . . .?” I asked with pointed interest. 

       “Both the source of the puzzle and the key to its solution, I suspect.” Derisively, he lifted four or five sheets of paper, remarking, “I refer, of course, to these, our notes – yours and mine, Watson — taken during the initial interview with our overwrought client, Paul Steven Stone. And never a more inconclusive set of notes have my eyes traversed.”

       “And what exactly are you looking for?”   

       “A reason, Watson – any reason will do – to explain why a perfectly good writer like our client should suddenly run out of election-related blog posts to write about. And, perhaps, a reason to explain why, of all the possible resulting actions he might undertake, he chooses to confide his difficulties in me. 

       “Why me, Watson?” he queried sharply. “I’m a consulting detective, not a spiritualist, literary muse or election pundit. On the surface of things, it appears quite inexplicable.”

       “Inexplicable, indeed!” I affirmed, recalling the frightening loss of ideas and inspiration described by our client only yesterday in these very rooms. And recalling, too, my sense of utter incomprehension as to how Holmes and I could possibly be of service to him.

       But our client saw nothing of our ill ease as he continued to detail the scope of his affliction.

       “Just look on the front page of The New York Times,” he challenged, standing up from his chair and offering the paper in question for our review. “Read it for yourself, gentlemen. Sadly, it is the same story that’s been told since the day Donald J. Trump first rode down his golden escalator and into America’s presidential politics. Quid pro quo deals with foreign enemies, the shameful self-emasculation of weak and corrupt Republican politicians, the building of immense personal fortunes at the public’s expense.”

       “Yes,” Holmes replied, “it appears there is much these days, as there always is, for a writer to write about.”

       “And think of all the lunacy that surrounds us!” our client exclaimed. “Should Donald J. Trump win in less than two weeks time, America will have her first fascist president living in the white House. And with Trump as Commander-in-Chief our army will be led with no sense of moral purpose; our federal giovernment will be staffed with lackeys who pledge their allegiance to one clearly confused, bitter and ignorant man. Not only that, but lobbyists and religious zealots will take control of our national agenda while millionaires in all branches of government will decide how best to serve the interests and assets of their fellow millionaires. In ordinary circumstances, Mr. Holmes, I should be able to write a dozen of my commentaries with that kind of inspiration waiting to be tapped. Yet, here I am a week late and … ?”

       “You are bereft,” Holmes finished dryly.

       “Yes, bereft,” our client affirmed. “That is a very good word to describe it. I have already written so many posts highlighting Trump’s ignorance and cruelty that I find myself losing my capacity for indignation. And that, just when my readers are about to make the most critical voting decision of their lives. There is no shortage of good subjects for a new Trump expose, Mr. Holmes , but I have no inclination to write about any of them. I am here before you, sad to admit, bereft of any inclination.”

       And here we were but a day later, feeling bereft of answers, Holmes and I, as we ponder the curious parade of events that brought our client both to his state of desperation and to our set of rooms at 221B. Baker Street.

       “Forgive me, Watson,” Sherlock Holmes said, walking over to the window, “but I feel the need to restate the particulars of our case. I know you will forbear me your ire or impatience.”

       “Impatience!” I puffed as a protest through my pipe. “Not at all, my good man. No such thing.”

       “As you say, good friend,” he smiled back. “But as to the facts, allow me to postulate . . .

       “Our client is a writer with a variety of possibilities for the subject of his next blog post. 

       “’A Stone’s Throw’ being the name of his blog,” I offered.

       “Yes, very clever how he injects his last name into the formal title of his blog post. But enough of these incidentals…

       “Our client, Mr. Paul Steven Stone, comes to us because an apparent writer’s block or severed connection with his muse has left him going weeks without publishing a suitable essay to describe—and help combat—the frightening peril in which America now stands. Yet, even though he laments his woeful lack of inspiration, he still finds he has no inclination to author a post that might help America’s voters wake up in time to avert disaster. He makes no claim to understand the changeable nature of his normally aggressive muse or why he would suddenly start acting in this timid, unhelpful manner.

       “But there’s the funny thing, Holmes,” I interrupt. “Mr. Stone does not ask us to divine the cause of his writer’s block…”

       “About which even the simplest of theories must consider the poor man’s emotional and physical exhaustion.,” Holmes interjected. “This is a man under great stress, Wason; a writer wound ever so tightly as he tries to produce a series of blog posts that would sound the alarm. And sound it loud enough for all to hear.

       “But, no, you are correct, Watson. Paul Steven Stone does not ask us to unearth the cause of his difficulties, but rather to help him prevent a mystery that could arise as the result of his difficulties.”

       “And what mystery is that, Holmes . . . ?”

       “It is a mystery in the minds of Paul Steven Stone’s readers, Watson, as his tardiness continues and they begin to worry about his state of mind; and especially worry that they might have lost one of their most trusted voices for sanity, moral probity and correct action. That is why Mr. Stone encouraged us to create a document that could slyly—and ever so deftly—take the place of a missing blog post, with no one being any the wiser. A course of action, Watson, we not only have taken, you may notice, but in fact are near to completing. By the way, for your future notes, you may wish to file this as “The Case of the Missing Inclination.”

       “And what would you call it, Sherlock?”

       “I’m a little more practical, Watson. I’d call it, ‘Better late than never.’”

NO MORE

NO MORE will we listen to your lies, those infamies that breed faster than fruit flies and spew from your mouth like the overflow stench from a flooded septic system.  

NO MORE will we afford respect or dignity to those scabrous Republicans who traded their self-respect and integrity for a seat at your table, to nibble on rancid scraps from your leftovers, and pretend they adore you so that their clueless followers will adore them. Theirs is the more disgraceful behavior since you were born the way you are, and they willingly bargained away their souls to become little more than your echo.

NO MORE will we watch you gobble like a pig from the public trough. No more will we watch you—like a squealing pig hunting for truffles—sniff out odious and nefarious ways to turn the people’s presidency into a money-making operation. 

NO MORE will we allow you to denigrate the soldiers who made the ultimate sacrifice to keep our country safe and free so that sons of millionaires like yourself could stay home safely with their non-existent bone spurs.

NO MORE will we allow you to sow hatred and division in a country that was built on the belief that all of us are equal, and equally deserving of opportunity, security and happiness no matter our religion or skin color.

NO MORE will we allow you to defame and belittle immigrants, nor brutally tear families apart—children wrenched from their mothers’ breasts, or placed in cages—to deter others from seeking out the American Dream.

NO MORE will we watch helplessly as you turn every day of the week into a crisis of Trumpian proportions. No more will we watch—helplessly again—as the self-serving and criminally-inclined sycophants you install in government positions get called out for breaking the public trust, as well as breaking the nation’s laws.

NO MORE will we watch as you make a fool of yourself on the world stage, pushing leaders aside to get to the front of the group, disgracefully sniffing Putin’s fingers for a scent of the power you so envy, threatening to disassemble NATO, the greatest force for peace and stability on the planet.

NO MORE will we watch as you heedlessly destroy the norms, practices and rituals that define our sense of America as protector of our rights and leader of the free world. Nor will you continue to upend the values we share as Americans every day. No longer will selfishness, treachery, dishonesty, cruelty and avarice reign supreme in the corridors of power, nor will you ever again play both jester and king for your sole benefit and delight.   

NO MORE will we accept with stoic silence your description of America as no longer great. We will agree that for the four years of your virulent presidency America’s greatness was darkly dimmed and placed on life support. But in November we will shout “NO MORE” so loudly at the ballot box it will echo around the world, and you will no longer be able to escape your fate as an insurrectionist and betrayer of America’s secrets.

And then, at long last, our national nightmare will come to an end. And you, Donald J. Trump, rapist, business fraud, convicted felon, congenital liar and con man extraordinaire  will threaten our democracy, our constitution, our institutions, our traditions and my fucking peace of mind NO MORE.

And that’s how we’ll Make America Great Again.

NEW VACCINE PROTECTS AGAINST DONALD TRUMP

Introducing VERACITY VACCINE By Paul Steven Stone Labs. THE ONLY VACCINATION proven up to 95% EFFECTIVE AGAINST DONALD TRUMP’S reckless and unceasing trampling of the truth.

Studies have shown that almost 45 percent of America’s adult population are at risk of succumbing to Donald Trump’s outright lies and empty promises. Twice yearly injections of VERACITY should prevent or totally eliminate normal MAGA reactions to Donald Trump’s deceit-layered behavior.  

VERACITY VACCINATION IS 100% EFFECTIVE AGAINST:

DONALD’S LIES:  Whether he’s claiming to have uplifted more Afro Americans than Abraham Lincoln, insisting the January 6th insurrection was a patriotic field trip or trying to sell a condo with only 1/3 the actual square footage stated on the listing, Donald Trump’s lies are virtually unstoppable. Worse still, they come at you so fast and furiously, you are quickly numbed to their audacity and obvious mendacity. Chances are, by the time you realize Trump is telling a lie, he has already buried the original lie under half a dozen new ones. 

Now, with our new VERACITY VACCINATION, Donald’s lies are no longer audible. Through the wonders of modern pharmacology, VERACITY renders its users impervious to Donald’s lies, from the largest honkers to the smallest and whitest of lies. With VERACITY your hearing will suddenly drop out from both ears at the first detection of a Donald Trump falsehood. Gone are all promises of a border wall paid for by Mexico. Never again will you have to listen to Donald’s crybaby complaints of witch hunts, political persecutions and rigged elections. 

During the periods of silence that ensue while Trump vomits up lies, falsehoods and misstatements, VERACITY VAXERS will have their choice of peaceful classical compositions, courtesy of Amazon Music, to transform Trump’s typically mendacious rants into melodious musical interludes.

VERACITY VACCINATION IS 100% EFFECTIVE AGAINST:

DONALD’S GRIFTS AND SWINDLES:  Whether it’s a cheap, repurposed naugahyde-covered bible, or gold-foiled basketball sneakers, Donald Trump always has something new and unexpected to sell you. Maybe you prefer to spend your discretionary income on Trump campaign donations. Well. that’s fine with us. Anything you want, just as long as we get all your available money.

With a VERACITY VACCINATION, you will no longer be susceptible to Donald Trump’s vulgar and tasteless sales pitches. Similar to how sounds disappear at the first whisper of a Trump lie, VERACITY shuts off both your eyesight and hearing instantly upon encountering one of Donald’s sales pitches, leaving you impregnable and unreachable as a sales prospect. Unfortunately, it also leaves you totally vulnerable to the dangers of automobile traffic and various other human activities.

For protection at such moments, VERACITY purchasers will receive a placard—absolutely free!—to hang around their necks declaring, “HELP, DONALD TRUMP LEFT ME DEAF AND BLIND!” 

That’s VERACITY from Paul Steven Stone Labs. Two shots in the arm annually and you can live your life in peace once again.

And that’s the truth!

FORGET-ME-NOTS

by Paul Steven Stone

FORGET-ME-NOTS

(a poem of remembrance)

Some critical facts to memorize

When Truth is mired ‘neath muck and lies,

While all around, cult fever runs wild

Threatening the Future like an unprotected child.

FORGET-ME-NOT, FORGET ME NOT,

Who tried to steal a second term,

Counting lies instead of votes.

And remember who did not.

Recall as well whose sordid deeds

Echoed daily in the news…

Sexual assault, slander, business fraud

All charged, tried and proved.

And remember who did not.

FORGET-ME-NOT, FORGET ME NOT,

Who lacks integrity, kindness or shame,

The morals a president is lost without.

And remember who does not.

FORGET-ME-NOT, FORGET ME NOT,

Who sent a mob to sack the capitol,

Trashing 250 years of American democracy.

And remember who did not.

Forget-Me-Not, Forget-Me-Not

Whose epic Covid malfeasance

Sent thousands to unnecessary deaths.

And remember who did not.

Forget-Me-Not, Forget-Me-Not

Don’t vote for anyone who tried to steal an election,

And remember who did not.