It is way past time for "Dirty Diaper Donnie" to be ejected from the Whitehouse & IMPEACHED!
My Fellow NEWSTALKERS.Communists, I speak to you today, because at nearly 84 years old, I have no friends, so, of course, I reach out to strangers, who, for the most part, HATE ME.
Hello, what the Fugazy, do I care! When one is a senile, old bag of wind, seeking Sheep Dip, I spend my valuable time denigrating the ORANGE ARSE WIPE, who is "Always on my Mind!"
While in college, I took a Summer Job at the New Jersey State Hospital, where I met, bathed, and cleaned up real NUT JOBS.
At that time, I thought I would like to be a psychiatrist, not because I was brilliant, but rather because I believed it was a profession that would help me meet young women who needed help.
I had little success with girls in grade & high school, nor in my first two years of college at Central State College, in Wilberforce, Ohio.
It was a 99.8% BLACK UNIVERSITY. I was granted a Scholarship for one simple reason: I was white.
I had never known anyone who went to college in 1960, nor had I ever considered it a possibility. I knew one damn thing: I was NEVER, under any circumstance, going to work in a factory.
In 1958, I enrolled at John H Patterson, a c--op High School, where students in their Junior and Senior years could go to school for two weeks, and work for two weeks.
We attended school for 11 months, and it was a wonderful experience. Students from all over Dayton, Ohio, signed up because at that time, wages were a dollar per hour, and we were 8 hour shifts, 5 days per week. By the Senior year, wages went up to $1.85 for all students.
At that moment in time, my mother was working for $1.00 per hour at St. Elisabeth Hospital as a Nurse's Aide, so I was impressed that I was making more money than she did.
My drunken, wife-beating father worked at Wright-Patterson Air Force base, just outside of Dayton. He and my mother, and 4 of my sisters, migrated to Dayton for my Father to get a job that the family could afford.
I was born in Dayton, January 18, 1942, and my baby sister was born 18 months later. Her name was Jackilyn.
My mother, also from Minnesota, gave birth to 7 children, the first, Jack, died at birth, from an umbilical cord that wrapped around his neck.
My Mother, whose maiden name was Daisy Hale, told me that her grandmother was Emma Hale, who married Joseph Smith, the pedophile creator of the Mormon Religion.
Of course, in the 1950's, no one referred to Joseph Smith as a pedophile. Those who knew him quickly learned that, like "Dirty Diaper Donnie," was a Gifted CON MAN!
Joseph's first fortune-making scheme was to convince farmers that he could contact a spirit guide that he could mentally summon, provided he had a sheet that separated him from his suckered clients.
Joseph pulled this prank on several farmers in the area until he got caught and convicted of FRAUD, exactly like "Dirty Diaper Donnie', and escaped JAIL, with only a condemnation never to do that scheme again. Well, of course, he packed up, married my great, great grandmother, and headed out to make a fortune, adding several wives to his family, and preaching his doctrine, which Emma Hale Smith wrote for him.
Apparently, he was an attractive young man, bright, intelligent, but Hell Bent of Mesmerizing Men with his BULL SHAT!
Does that sound like Donald J. Trump to you, the kind of mind that could convince people that he alone could make their lives better, if only they would follow in his footsteps?
(To be continued. My lovely wife of 49 years wants to take me to a movie, not far from our home, so what can I say but yes. She is my GIFT From GOD! I must tell you that story, it is true, and an eye opener!)
PLEASE:
Don't start cussing me out before I finish this Epitet!
However, you can start sending me money. CASH ONLY, checks are for SISSIES!
PPS:
If, by chance, you happen to find errors in this commentary, blame Right Wing MAGAS who rattle by brain, every time they expel a "FACIAL FART"!
The World will little note what I said here, but most will not give a SHAT what I wrote here!
Jonathan Livingston Pigeon-Poo, "Doctored".
If you don't think I am "DOCTORED", jes take a gander in me medicine cabinet. I take one, two, maybe three hundred pills a day. If'n I ain't DOCTORED, who is HADES is?
Night All!
I take it every chance I get!
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Finally, at nearly 84, I can tell my sordid story to total strangers who don't give a damn.
That's OK, they are the ones who drink less, never smoke, and have seen UFOs!
PPS: Man, this AI correction stuff is helpful to a senile receiver of DEMENTIA.
Your fascination with dirty diapers and Trump is disturbing. Do you have something you need to get of your chest and share with the group?
Indeed, I do want to share my load with others.
I believe that "Dirty Diaper Donnie" is a CHAOS addict who uses that technique to keep his MAGA supporters from learning the truth that Donald J. Trump's goal is to become America's FIRST KING, which will enable the WORST PRESIDENT in the History of America to stay in POWER until he dies.
Of course, Project 2025 is still operating, and they are in favor of converting our Democracy into a form that a handful of SUPER, URBER R I C H, selfish SOBs could hijack our government and turn it into their eternal playground for the sole purpose of making them richer.
Greed and swindlers have operated in our country from the very first time a WHITE MAN stepped foot upon this continent. It didn't take long for them, of course, with their religious beliefs, to slaughter the native Indians, men, women, and children, to reap their goal, or, as some might say, their "gold".
Who wouldn't want to get rich, especially if they had guns, and their enemy fought with bows and arrows?
America, like a lot of countries, fought with its neighbors, friends, foes, and especially those who spoke a different language, or, "Heaven Forbid", a different religion, or a separate Christian Demonanation.
War, Killing, and slaughter have been a part of our culture since the beginning of TIME.
It is way past time to change the paradigm and embrace all humankind in a positive manner that brings human beings together, rather than killing them for their religious beliefs or origin of birth.
It is time for Americans to grow up, especially those who follow a ruthless wannabe Dictator/King, in my humble opinion.
WHAT SAY YOU, Friend!
I think this KAT is the finest comedian since Jonathan Winters. Both are talented and off the wall. However, this Kat is unbelievable!
Jim Carey, the Canadian Comic, Actor, and brilliant human being. I wanted to be a comedian since the 7th grade, when I discovered that I could make the entire class LAUGH!
It was a warm, powerful feeling that made me feel like I had found a place for me.
Of course, I was sent to the Principal's Office frequently. And, several times got wacked in me flat, no fat arse, which hurt like HADES.
When I returned from Vietnam in 1966, I attended the University of Houston, where I majored in Theater. I loved it; it was home. I wrote one-act plays, performed, did some stand-up, and put together a comedy quartet to keep a friend of mine from going nuts because he had a final performance due at 8 am, and he had been out all night with his girlfriend.
At around two o'clock in the morning, he rapped on my door. He was desperate, to the point of nearly crying.
I asked him, "How much material do you have to do?
"15 minutes, Hell, man, let's run to the library and dig up some old Vaudeville Stics.
Oldly, at 2 am, we kept bumbling into our other Theater friends who tagged along. By the time we reached the Library, which was open 24 hours, there were 4 of us. So we dug in, conducted some research, and came up with a wealth of historical information.
On the way back to my apartment, we practiced our routines and picked up props that we discovered. One of our buddies discovered a clean, white, porcine commode and picked it up.
At 8:00 a.m., we marched into the small rehearsal theater where 34 students were seated. High on our finds, when we knocked them out of their seat, even the professor laughed heartily.
My buddy was saved from failing his theater class, and in a panic that if he didn't graduate, he would not beable to get into an officer's training program, as a cadet.
I strutted out of the theater, and several attractive girls who never talked to me rushed up to me, hugged me, and told us how "brilliant" our performance was.
My girlfriend had just broken up with me, I was depressed, crushed, not because I LOVED her, but she was the first upper-middle-class, attractive girl/woman that I had ever KNOWN.
I said, "Hell, with it! I am going to HOLLYWOOD. There is money to be made, and beautiful women who throw themselves at actors, comics, and writers. I wanted to be all three.
And I desperately wanted to have sex with an attractive woman, and not my hand. My wrist was hurting!
So I packed up my tiny foreign car and drove like a MADMAN to California. My sister, "France", who had changed her name to "Sherry", because of the constant harassment from the TV SHOW, "Frances The Talking Donkey"!
She was only 18 months older than I, lived there, so I knew that I would have a place to live temporarily, until I became a star, a Comedian, an Actor or a gifted Writer.
I was dug in!
The first thing I did was take out an Ad in the HOLLYWOOD REPORTER, seeking actors comedian for a comedy quartet that I was putting together, and invited them to try out at my sister's home, without her knowing it.
She went to work as a hostess in an upscale, posh place, and I pulled up a card table and a metal chair as eager actors, writers, comedic raced to my door.
I wanted a woman, a black comic, me, and someone really funny to form our "Three Minus One Comedy Team" that was the name I craftily pulled out of the ether, for my friend's LIVING SAVING EVENT.
Meanwhile, I copied their material, stole their jokes, etc. These, I learned later, are the things that COMICS do to each other.
Richard Pyror stole the Comedy piece I wrote for him. He never paid me the $500.00 that he promised me, said, "Man, you are FUNNY, but you ARE SICK!"
That stun!
Because when Stan Drebin, one of the best comic writers, offered me a slot in a show, to be in "SOCK IT TO ME 69" (the title I created), which was going to open in Las Vegas, and he wanted me to be in it.
Well, you see.
Stan the possibly multi-millionaire, famous comedy writer's office was located in City Center, in Beverly Hills, where damn near ever mayor actor, including Barbara Striesan's agent, and where Barbara, and her three woman ontouage entered, occassionally, hired me as a "go fer", at first, then elevated me to a slot in a combination Musical Comedy, dumbass show that no Casino would bye into.
After 6 days of performing in front of an empty house, where Vegas owners, Mangers, and Mafia members watched our performance in absolute, cold-stone silence.
The entire cast left with their head in their "tuckers", little muther fu-ers", and cried all the way back to HOLLYWOOD, searching for another opportunity.
I had been booted from performer to stage manager because Paul Moody took my slot.
"Stan The Man, the millionaire writer, who wrote for Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin, and every damn comedian since the beginning of time, asked me, as we were putting together our show, if I knew a BLACK COMEDIAN, so I said, "Yes, I do.
I met Paul when I was trying to put together my Quartet Comedy group. He was selling shoes in a luxurious Beverly Hills Mall, and making money hand over fist. He, however, lived in WATTS while it was still on fire.
Ron Kaiser, Stan's partner, who I assumed was the son of the owner of KAISER ALUMINUM, because what in the freakin fact did I know, asked me if I would drive his new black Porsche back to Beverly Hills, because he was exhausted, and was going to fly back.
So, being the humanitarian that I am, I said, "Sure, I would be glad to do that!"
The six or eight-member cast drove from Hollywood to Las Vegas in a few cars, and were eager to make some good money performing in the FRONTIER HOTEL, which is now torn down, but in the sixties was a "The HOT PLACE" for performers, and Casino suckers to toss their money away.
I was tired, worn out from the crushing loss of not being able to perform in Vegas, but I was damn near broke. Stan paid me $65.00 per week, which I was able to get by on, because I moved to the YMCA. It was only three dollars per day, and the manager was Huge O'Brien's brother, whom I had met in Vietnam, and damn near got killed with, as he peeked out of a Bar, Dinner Whore House, that he took Captain Ludicrious and me to the "best joint" he knew.
Over three thousand Vietcong marched by our adode for 5 hours, dressed in the Black Pajamas, and wearing those large Straw hats that keep the sun off their head.
Like the curious idiot, I am, I drew back the curtain to see what was going on.
O'Brien's brother snatched me back, put his hand over my mouth, and told "Captain Incredible" and me to remain silent.
"These guys, he whispered, "will KILL US ALL, and everyone in this WHORE HOUSE!"
For five hours, we heard the Vietcong march by our location, and neither whispered a word.
I began to see the danger in being in Vietnam, in Saigon, on my way to Tia Pa for a week's furlough. I was white as a sheet, and Captain Incredible, in charge of Intelligence, fell quickly and quietly to sleep.
Well, back to the story about our to-be creation, "Sock It to Me 69", every day I saw these leather slippers, Italian Custom shoes, sitting by the wall, in the same place, day after day, so when I was packing up, I took the shoes because I thought someone left them theire for 5 days, so they weren't coming back, and besides that fit me to a T.
The shoes put me in a state of great comfort, as I drove a brand new Porsche, and wore very expensive, hand-made Italian shoes.
When I arrived at my loft in Hollywood, Ron Kaiser was there. He had been waiting on me for hours, because I pulled over on the side of the road to take a nap, that unfortunaelty lasted six hours. I was exhausted from the drive, the show that went nowhere, and worried about what the HELL am I going to do now.
When I opened the door, Ron, a very calm, Jewish writer, a partner to Stan Drebin, (sp) shouted at me, "WHERE THE HELL ARE THOSE GODDAMN SHOES?"
"What shoes?" I asked.
"The goddamn one you have on!"
"Oh, these, I said, and started to tell him of the sequence of events.
When he said something chilling, "they belong to the HEAD of the MAFIA OWNER of that Casino, and he wants them back now, or you won't exist!"
I got the message, gave him the shoes, and thought perhaps this is the time to go back home.
I ran all the way home to DAYTON, OHIO, shooting by Michael Jackson with his hair on fire, heading in the opposite direction. Then, four minutes later, Richard Pryor raced by me, going in the same direction that I was, but at an enormous speed.
I did something that I had never done before: I called my alcoholic, wife-beating dad, and asked him if he could wire me some money so I could fly back to Dayton, and not get murdered on the way.
He, or one of my four older sisters, wired the money, and I flew back home to Dayton, deeply depressed that my career as a comedian, writer, and actor was SHOT!
Here's a little tidbit for you, I am a MAGA supporter, it will never happen. IMO 90+% would say no also.
Indeed, I do-de-dode-doddlely-doo!
Donald J. Trump is the WORST and most corrupt PRESIDENT in the History of the UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
As most people know, Trump was a 5-6 time bankrupt businessman who cheated banks by filing for bankruptcy on his projects after failing to repay the large loans they had made to him. My sources, some say sauces, "say",
"Dirty Diaper Donnie" learn this technique from his father, Frederick Trump, a great criminal, himself, and from his grandfather, who dodged the "Draft" in Germany during WWI and fled to the USA.
He established himself in the Coal Mine locations in the South and made his money by renting out his crew of PROSTITUTES. He made a good fee from that enterprise, but when the GOLD RUSH erupted, he snatched up his "Hookers" and headed for California, where he made a fortune.
When the PIMP died from clap and syphilis, his son Frederick inherited $3.5 million, which was a FORTUNE in those days.
When Donald J. Trump's father, Frederick, died, he left $435 million to Donnie, because his father was dying from a lifelong disease known as "DEMENTIA".
The ORANGE ARSE HOLE forced his diseased father to sign over his entire fortune to himself, which included their home, business, capital, cars, etc., and did what he does best, SCAMMED his siblings, including all of his relatives, keeping the bulk of the wealth to himself, according to many well-known writers who have written books about Donnie, the man, you believe to be a great president, instead of a PEDOFILE, SCAM ARTIST, BANKRUPT CROOK.
But, heck, to each his own!