September 7, 2018

So I’m guessing you’re wondering what the two chicks from ABBA, Anni-Frid “Frida” Lyngstad and Agnetha Faltskog, doing on a post titled after a dumb Elton John classic? Actually, the song sucks, but I sure like its sentiments.

The other day I made myself a Hemingway daiquiri (since the Oronoco brand is no longer manufactured I’ve switched to Olo Silver) and sat out on the back patio under happy pineapple lights. There was a bit of a breeze out of the southwest stirring the queen palms keeping the heat of the day at bay and the sunset a dust-free (thankfully!) clean and shimmering gold, allowing me to just take a breath from another long, hard day at work and a long, hard year. Another call with “The Client Who Shall Remain Nameless” and another dick-head management moron trying to tell me how to do my job, but I’ve grown hardened to where point where it’s just another shitty day in paradise, right? My company had completed another round of layoffs but they’re not going to get rid of me – at least just yet – because there’s too much unfinished business on my watch (not to mention the fact that my team brings in revenue). I have little doubt my time will come, but the executioner’s chair will just have to wait.

So there I was, just trying to veg out, me and my daiquiri. No music playing. Thinking about just how stressful this year has been. Not just from work, but all the planning involved with getting my dad into housing he can feel comfortable in and enjoy. The past nine months has me completely worn down and mentally fried to the point where I don’t even feel like hitting balls – let alone playing golf – as a form of distraction. The good thing is, I’m just a week away from starting back at the gym, and the Eades diet and its two weeks without alcohol and caffeine, but that’s the way it’s gotta be: I want to look and feel great when I go to Vegas the first weekend in December. Maybe by that time I might even feel like hitting balls.

In the meantime…

Be careful what you watch on TV. The other night Tracey was watching some show on the history of ABBA. It didn’t seem bad, so I sat down and watched it with her. That was six days ago, and six days later I still can’t get this stupid song out of my mind. Well, it’s not stupid, it’s a damned finely-crafted piece of confection pop that deserved to be a hit. But, how to get the damned song out of my head?

Somewhat related, in a “guy” sort of way is the news that Dawn Wells, Mary Ann of “Gilligan’s Island” is soliciting donations on GoFundMe because of some health issues that require expensive surgery and money she doesn’t have. A thought: can you imagine if every guy who, at one time or another, over beers with friends and strangers at a local watering hole, debated “Ginger or Mary Ann” and argued for Mary Ann, sent Ms. Wells $10 for her trouble? Why, she’d be swimming in dough-re-mi! Having always been firmly and unequivocally been on the “Mary Ann” side of that universal debate, perhaps I ought to do just that.

…I say somewhat related above because the same kind of argument rages over on YouTube for every ABBA video ever posted. Is it Agnetha (that cute blonde kitten with one of the finest asses you’ll ever see on a girl), or Frida, the brunette with that mischievous look and seductive eyes. Check this alternative video of “I Do…” out and you’ll know what I mean. Two very different and attractive kinds of girls, right? For two very different kinds of guys. I know who my Goodboys pal The Funny Guy would pick: he’s an Agnetha dude if I ever saw one. And I’m guessing the same for fellow Goodboys Goose and Cubby as well. They’re all such dopes for cute blondes. My Goodboys pal Killer? I think be would be a Frida guy. Me? Unlike with the Ginger and Mary Ann debate (which to me is no contest), this one is really too close to call. But were you to put a gun to my head, I’d have to go with Agnetha by a nose because of that cute little gap between her front teeth that just makes my heart melt. (Sad to say, she got her teeth worked on somewhere down the line because “the gap” disappeared in later videos.) But then I look at Frida’s long, brown bangs and eye makeup and I’m conflicted all over again.

Here’s an idea: if you guys out there can’t decide, use as a tie-breaker how the ladies look in their infamous cat outfits. I’ll spare with the obvious and sexist guy comment that comes to mind.

So much for this being an intellectual blog post.

I have to admit, between the Democrats meltdown at the Kavanaugh hearings, the “revelations” contained in the Bob Woodward book, and that infamous Op-ed in the New York Times, one has to admit President Trump has had a pretty good week. Breitbart’s Nick Nolte is right:

I don’t care how Trump makes his decisions, I care about the end result of those decisions.

All this long con over Trump’s “fitness” is based on is his management style; which is meaningless inside-inside gossip for the stupid and shallow to masturbate over – a hoax, a con, a carnival barker’s sideshow.

How about if we focus on the substance for just a moment…

Our economy is booming for the first time in a freakin’ decade, manufacturing jobs are finally coming back, North Korea has stopped launching missiles, the War on Terror feels like a bad memory, ISIS is no longer lighting people on fire, Putin’s adventurism has been halted, the rule of law is returning to the Supreme Court, someone is finally paying serious attention to the plight of the working class, were out of the Paris Hoax Treaty, the Iran Deal is dead, we’re not funding the Palestinians, we’re not transporting billions in cash to terrorist nations, the media are finally being treated like the Democrat operatives they are, the Obamacare mandate is dead, black and Hispanic unemployment has hit record lows, and, and, and…

Look at that. Look at all of those accomplishments, all the substantive substance above and tell me again why I’m supposed to give even a scintilla of a damn about Trump’s style.

As long as Trump lives inside the Democrats’ heads they are powerless to think and do anything else. I hate the very idea of helping the opposition party, so I won’t bother giving them any talking points they could be using to help their cause. Because they could turn the tables on Trump and use his own campaign words against them (again, I don’t want to give them any hints). Instead let them freak out and act like the juveniles and morons they are. Heck, if they can’t conjure up any effective strategy beyond Trump being unfit for office, and that he’s Hitler personified, and that his latest Supreme Court nominee will kill all women and children, why not just let them continue digging the hole they are digging for themselves?

…speaking of which, Massachusetts senator Elizabeth Warren is a jackass.

R.I.P. Burt Reynolds.

This is way beyond cool.

Filed in: Uncategorized by The Great White Shank at 02:09 | Comments (0)
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