Archive for the ‘Donald Trump’ Tag
Everyone should send a letter or, since everyone reads them if they pass through their hands, a postcard like this one to
President Stephen Bannon
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue
Washington, DC 20500
A) this seems to be the sort of thing that gets under Trump’s skin and might cause him to have a stroke if it happens enough, and
B) see A).
Links to terminology:
Cottaging (also, this video from Monkey Dust)
Santorum (if the link ever fails, Google search “frothy” and “Santorum”)
FBs (hint, NOT FaceBook or First Baptist, unless it is)
Drunken Bunny Liqueurs
The gruff, aggressive, and very drunk guy at the Bull bar demanded, “why are you taking photos of pubs?”
“Habit, I guess. Ooooo! Theakston’s Best, please!” I had just spotted the £1.75/pint sign on the Theakston tap. I was soaked partly from the sweat but mostly from the torrential downpour on the run from Uxbridge town centre.
“Wuh duh yuh mean, ‘habit?'”
“Been doing this for ages. Almost up to 1800, now.”
“Different strokes for different folks,” he said dismissively. Thinking he had lost interest, I settled into my beer. “Hear!” he spouted, startling me and the massive bartender. “Is that…is that an American accent?”
“Yeah, ‘fraid so. I’d lose it if I could. It’s the only thing American about me, though.”
“But, you’re American.”
“Not according to my passport. It says I’m as British as you.”
After a long pause during which he looked like he was urinating but the chair remained dry he asked, “why did you leave there for here?” in that frustratingly defeatist way Brits ask this.
“I saw it coming.” The owner and the bartender laughed and we started talking about the Trump immigration Executive Orders only to be interrupted again.
“But, why did you leave there?” The bartender stepped in: “Trump, mate. He reckoned he foresaw Trump coming.” Then, they both started to laugh. The owner and I talked about the conversion of the pub from a café (which it was when I ran past a few months ago) back to a pub. Then, she changed back to the Trump ban, again.
“How can he block so many people?”
“Well, it isn’t so many. They are quite specific in who they target.”
“Yes, but it is a nation of immigrants.” I took note of this coming from the south Asian woman. “And, to target a religion. Isn’t there religious freedom there?”
I smiled, ruefully and tried to answer without my reflexive condescension. “It’s not about religion or terrorism or economics.” I turned and looked the black bartender in the eyes to see that he was listening, then back at her. “It’s this,” I said, pointing back at my face and drawing an air circle around it (sort of the national “note the race” hand gesture in Britain).
“Oh, of course. The racism is much worse there, isn’t it?”
“It’s hard to miss.”
Fantastically friendly bar, even the plastered guy propping it up. You should go there (they open at 9am). Here’s the map, if you decide to.
I’ve watched every Presidential Inauguration since 1973 but this time around I joined a few thousand like-minded individuals down at the US Embassy. More diverse than the Socialist rallies I more frequently frequent, it was also attended by many more Americans than usual.
Good talks, throughout, but I don’t really think the chants lead to contemplation either by observers or the chanters themselves; still, the spontaneous eruption of, “lock him up! Lock him up! Lock him up!” made me smile.
I went down empty-handed knowing there would be plenty of placards to pick up on the way (I grabbed a No To Racism one half down from the Marlborough Head); the homemade ones were best, though. A personal favourite was “Make America Read Again.”
The promise was to stage resistance Trump when he comes to visit. “We’ll grind London to a halt.”
Oh, and Lily Allen staged an impromptu concert.
“I’m going to build a great buzz and Mexico is going to pay for it,” Jackie declared unconvincingly last night. She works what are termed, here, “unsocial hours” so her lunchtime is 4 pm and today that is 1 hour before the officer that carries the Football discretely shifts across the Inaugural Stage from the side of President Obama to that orange guy. For lunch, she is having tequila today. I hope the bar doesn’t have a tele.
I, on the other hand, am just now boarding a bus bound from Oxford to Baker Street then walking the few blocks down to Grosvenor Square to join an Inauguration themed rally in front of the US Embassy. Should be fun. Do join us, there will probably be a chance to watch the riot squads of the Metropolitan Police in action. The old joke about the bear applies to my hope for large numbers turning out:
When the Met comes at you is it better to run or to offer Passive Resistance?
Oh, mate, we should run.
Do you really think you can outrun them?
No, I only have to outrun you lot.
When I think Trump and Tequila, this is the picture that comes to mind:
British betting shops are ready to cover your Trump related wagers. At Ladbrokes, we have:
The troubling one on that list is 2025 OR LATER…. Well, not as troubling as 2017 ever becoming an option in the first place.
The selection at Paddy Power is:
I have a lousy gambling record so I don’t want to read too much into this, but those seem like pretty good odds for the Wee-wee Tape coming out (yes, he puts the ‘P’ in POTUS). And, if I understand the semantics of this slate of bets then he has slightly better odds of Splitting With His Soft Core Porn Star Wife than he has of Not Getting Inaugurated In The Next 24 Hours. I keep saying, ill-advised though it is to do so out loud, that America really needs a patriot with good aim to step up (maybe a Secret Service Agent with inoperable cancer?) and get me that 20:1 payoff.
Stanhope’s ghoulish Celebrity Death Pool (fantasy football for the obituary obsessives) seems to have tapped into that same stream of consciousness. The leading ‘picks’ as of yesterday were the easy to justify Charlie Manson and George HW Bush. Number 3? You don’t get that many votes from people expecting a fatal hairspray incident:
Here were the debate buzzword results and the odds Ladbrokes was paying out on them (see the post from last week for the details).
These paid out:
“Make America Great Again” (1:10), twice by Trump at the end.
“Commander In Chief” (1:5) came up twice (both times in Clinton responses)
“Putin” (1:2), 3 times by Clinton
“Pennsylvania” (Evens) all Trump, once for the State of and twice for the White House address
“Unbelievable” (6:4) Trump described his company twice as “unbelievable”
“Reagan” (6:4) twice by Trump, and “Racist” (2:1) three times in one Clinton answer
Tear up your betting slip if you had these:
“Lying” (1:2) no
“Crooked” (4:6) he couldn’t say it to her face
“Pneumonia” (Evens) nope
“Terrific” (Evens) no
“Basket Of Deplorables” (6:4) no baskets
“Brexit” (5:1) no
“There You Go Again” (5:1) no
“Give Me A Break” (5:1) no
“Monica Lewinsky” (10:1) no
“You’re Likeable Enough” (10:1) nogo
The very dickish “How’s Your Cold” (20:1) sadly was not used.
These last ones were close enough to get excited about:
“Mexico’s Gonna Pay For It” (5:4), no but Trump mentioned Mexico six times in context of how well they are doing down there
“Founding Fathers” (2:1) closest was Trump talking about his father’s company.
“You’re Fired” (2:1); fired only came up in the context of Carrier Air Conditioning firing 1400 workers and moving the factory to Mexico.
“Washington Bubble” (3:1) no, economic bubble, vis “We are in a big, fat, ugly bubble.”
“Total Loser” (4:1) did not happen although Trump did point out, “I have a winning temperament. I know how to win.”
“How the Hell Should I Know” (20:1), but Trump said “we have to knock the hell out of ISIS, and we have to do it fast.”
“You’re No Jack Kennedy” (33:1) but Trump mentioned Kennedy Airport.
I had “Make America Great Again,” “Commander In Chief,” “Putin,” “Racist,” and “Crooked” netting £22.17 including the 4 out of my 5 quid stake returned.
If you bet £1 on each possibility (£25) you would leave the bookies with £6.33 including your stake (for a net loss of £18.67). If, instead of gambling, you were using these as a drinking game then you probably stayed relatively sober. I didn’t think of it as a game and, as a result, I DID NOT stay sober. The VP match-up may be a little better.
I went for a run today, like most days. Nothing special: I have done roughly 8 miles every September 11 since my flight to Edinburgh got cancelled that morning in 2001. Then, when I returned home I found the corpse of a Jihadi Sparrow who suicide piloted his ass into the side of my house. You can never escape it, these days. But, you must always be vigilant.
The run was nice, marred only by assholes on the canals and at the pub stop. The Great Ealing Battlements (above, now renamed ‘Northala Fields’ for some reason) originally built to keep the hordes from the Boroughs of Harrow and Hillingdon out of the quieter — and more civilised — London Borough to our south and southwest are now a recreation area complete with a motorway view to add some breathing challenge to a family day out. I run past this on a regular basis, lately, and it reminds me that the Donald’s plans for a wall (a great wall, the BEST) are nothing new.
Near at the end of the run, I snapped this shot of HM Prison Ruislip. The photo had only a coincidentally September 11 link (this is where the worst of the potential future terrorists are re-educated to become drones of society); I shot the picture just because the site was used for the high school scenes in the Inbetweeners, a film I TiVo’ed only to see the Ruislip Gardens neighbourhood scenes and fast-forward through the rest.
I mentioned the Chinese Sex Chair before. I removed the arm-rests (which double as *ahem* posing supports) a few years ago and have been using the mahogany piece as a garden table but on the day’s run, whilst not thinking about nor even considering the horrendous anniversary today marks (Pinochet should have died in the Hague!) I came up with this idea that I could turn this piece into something Mediterranean…Greek or Cypriot, like. Updates to follow (I haven’t yet mixed the right shade of blue). Just a note, though: while the US frets about Arabs pantsing them in public, the Chinese have been taking their lunch money for decades (thanks go out to Ronnie Reagan for both). Opa!