Month: August 2017

I have been a dyed in the wool New England sports fan for my entire life … you are welcome. I am not one of these fair-weather fans that have only liked New England sports since we won 73 titles in a week and a half. I remember the Patriots of the 80’s when they sucked and their 1 and 15 season was considered a triumph. I remember the Great Chicago Raping in Superbowl XX. Hey, don’t get all upset about me using the word “raping”. What would you call it? Richard Dent quite literally made Tony Eason walk bowlegged for the rest of his alleged career. I remember Bill Buckner that $#^&%&#&*^ and %&*&E#* and also %()#(((&! Enough said. I remember the last great decade of the Celtics with the original Big Three and back when the Bruins were perennial heavyweight challengers. They even played hockey now and then.

But rooting for your home team is only part of the New England sports fan legacy. You see, we are …how do I say this? Assholes! Oh, shit did I just swear on national TV? This isn’t national TV? Oh, then who cares? Part of being a New England sports fan is an ingrained hatred for our rivals. In fact, a great deal of the time we hate our rivals more than we love our teams. Especially in those years when our teams suck. The Yankees are the devil. No, the Yankees are the ugly step-sisters of the women the Devil rejects because they are too ugly. Was that sexist? See! The Yankees are sexist too! The Montreal Canadians are the more polite and less tanned version of the Yankees. To this day I cannot go to Montreal without taking a  … in the streets. TMI. Don’t even get me started on the Lakers! I have been wishing for the San Andreas fault to blow since 1986. But, like most Californians it’s too damn lazy. And then there are the Jets. I mean, they are the Jets. What’s to like?

My point is that I was raised as much on hate and loathing as on love and loyalty. Damn, I may need to see a therapist … or at least get on some good drugs. I’ll be right back … in lieu of drugs I have poured myself a nice Lagavulin 16. Ahhhh… What was my point again? Oh, that’s right hate, love, blah blah.

“Whiggy,” you ask yourself “why are you telling us this? And BTW the Patriots suck!”

What have I told you about calling me Whiggy and 5 rings baby!? I’ll let it go this time. I am telling you this my dear readers because I find myself in a similar situation in the political realm right now. I confess, I was not a Trump supporter. While I agreed with many of his policy stances I had a hard time with the way he comported himself. Reagan, to me, was the perfect picture of a President. He was regal and professional even when he was telling us that we were bombing the hell out of the French Embassy … I mean Libya. However, as a good New England sports fan, even when my team isn’t exactly what I want, I still have the capacity to hate the rivals and defend my team.

I equate the Democrat Moral Aristocracy to the Yankees. They both dominated for decades, they had some of the biggest names in the game and they had more money than anyone else. Sure, they also both had their share of accused druggies (Darryl Strawberry – Mayor Marion Berry) and rapists (Mel Hall – Bill Clinton) and murderers (Jim Leyritz – Ted Kennedy), most of whom suffered little to no consequences, but they were still both perennial winners for decades. And every time they won another game, won another election or got acquitted of another crime I hated them more and rooted all the more for the Red Sox. Perhaps there was a slight tinge of jealousy as well.

One cannot help but to equate the media to the Montreal teams of old, they were among the dirtiest players in the game, they hated their country, and most couldn’t get jobs doing anything else. Those great Montreal teams, like the modern media, were made up largely (but not completely) of barely literate thugs who could dish it out but ran crying to the refs when they themselves got hit. Every dirty hit, every fake dive, and every protest to the ref led me to hate them more and love the Bruins tenfold.

Fast forward to today. Liberal Yankees still spend a ton of money but they have nothing. Their leadership runs on Viagra and self-masturbation, their big-name players cry when the wind blows sideways and they have no bench. I lost track. Was I speaking of the Yankees or the Democrats? Oh wait, it doesn’t matter. The description fits both perfectly.  The media still acts like thugs, they cheat and lie and they cry like Chuck Schumer whenever anyone takes a shot at them.

And what does that do to me? It makes me root all the louder for President Trump. I laugh hysterically when Chuck Schumer and Van Jones cry. I cheer until I get hoarse when Trump pulls the strings to make the puppets dance. I pay attention to every speech made by Pelosi waiting for her to insert her foot into her own … ummm … mouth. I rapturously watch Abilio “Jim” Acosta dive on the ice and blame Trump for tripping him. The coaches for the moral aristocracy call in play after play and claim victory. Trump forces them into a butt-fumble time and time again. Pure joy.

Does this all make me a bad person? It might, I am not sure. Trump may not be who I wanted to win at first, but I can tell you the democrats and the media have made me root for him to crush them and leave them crying. I might be a bad person but I am not alone.

It is time for a coup d’état! Finally, things have gone too far! I looked away when Trump colluded directly with Putin, while riding naked  on horseback with him, to steal the 2016 election. I turned a blind eye when Trump hacked the DNC from his own cell phone. I ignored the burn when he and his Nazi minions used mind control to get Debbie Wasserman Shultz (and every other democrat) to sabotage Bernie Sanders. I turned the other cheek when Trump got a second scoop of ice cream. I even grudgingly accepted his racist rant about unity and finding all violence abhorrent. But this I cannot forgive. I have no further capacity for tolerance. No one has ever been so anti-American! I mean seriously, did you see Melania’s shoes!

I am personally in the debt to The New York Times, USA Today, Vogue, Vanity Fair and Daily News for their brave coverage of this pivotal subject. I, in all my ignorance, thought the devastation of Hurricane Harvey was the important story. I was naively impressed by the good-hearted Texans reaching out to help others in need. I watched as hundreds, no thousands, of people were saved from their roofs and their cars. In all my obliviousness, I missed the important story. How could I be so stupid? It is my own fault for not listening to the moral Aristocracy. I will, most assuredly, never make that mistake again.

I am not sure where I went wrong. After reading the news and following the Moral Aristocracy on Twitter I have found my way. Nine thousand people in a shelter meant for five thousand is trivial. Hundreds of thousands of Americans displaced from their homes is meaningless. Tens of billions of dollars in damage is inconsequential. Multiple deaths cannot compare to the importance of the footwear choice of the President’s wife.

I have no doubt, that if asked, the survivors of this horrific natural disaster would agree that Melania’s stilettos are the real story. Sure, they lost their shoes, clothing and, well, all their possessions, but it is Melania’s shoes that matter. Not since Marie Antoinette said, “let them eat cake” has anyone so insulted her people. No, that was kind compared to wearing those shoes on Air Force One. Perhaps a more apt comparison would be Queen “Bloody” Mary. Although, even the thousands of people she had executed pale in comparison to Melania’s Satanic Stilettos of Supremacy!

My friends, I have seen the light. Like the victims of other shoe wearing tyrants we must rise up! Have no fear, I have called Antifa and the Vagina Hat Brigade.  The torches have been lit. We will march on Washington and we will know enough to wear Birkenstocks!

I am a former child psychologist. It has been years since I worked full time counseling children and their families (true story). Given the countrywide mental health issues we have been experiencing lately, I have set up a part time private practice for those most mentally ill (NOT a true story). As such, I specialize in counseling the Moral Aristocracy (in my head).

Recently I had a fascinating case worthy of publishing and maybe even a movie directed by M. Night Shyamalan. What made this case so interesting was the client’s uncanny ability to argue against herself with no recollection of her argument. I believe I have stumbled across an entirely new form of mental disorder: Liberal Reflective Dissociation Disorder.

A middle-aged woman … I mean: a being who identified as a human female who had experienced more than 40 summer solstices entered my office. I will call her Libby, Libby Moraughn, to protect her identity. Libby explained that she had been experiencing quite a bit of anger, sadness, pyromania and confusion lately. As we delved down, we pinpointed the onset of these symptoms to November 8^th, 2016. She suffered devastating trauma on that day. The very fabric of her existence was torn asunder. Apparently, the news and everyone she knew told her Hillary Clinton would be president and that Donald Trump was the reincarnation of Hitler. So, naturally she panicked and fell into a ten-month delusional state. After burning a few neighborhoods down, she took off her vagina costume, quit her job at CNN and sought help.

Here are some excerpts of our therapy session:

Me: So, tell me what brings you in today?

Libby: Do you k

now that Trump refused to say that he would support anyone else if they were elected? How unamerican is that? I mean, even if you don’t like the person, you must support them. That’s the type of behavior I’d expect from Hitler!

Me: That’s what brought you in today? Sounds like you are not a Trump supporter.

Libby: Oh, hell no! He is not my president! No one I know supports him. He isn’t a valid president.

Her reality testing seemed to be a bit off. I wanted to see what life stressors she was experiencing.

Me: Let’s talk about how things are going for you right now. I see you just left your job.

Libby: Trump is a Billionaire. Although he probably isn’t. We can’t know because he won’t release his tax returns. But he is a billionaire that was given everything. You know he bought the presidency?

Me: Wait, what?

Libby: Money is ruining politics. You can’t trust anyone who spends so much money to become president. He took that money from other people so you know he owes favors to them.

Me: I thought I read that Hillary spent double what Trump spent and that Obama spent more than Trump did in 2016 on both of his elections.

Libby: That’s different. Money spent for democrats are given by good people and never have any strings attached.

We continued our discussion on several different topics. I tried to get Libby to discuss her family and her personal life. Each topic came back to politics.

Libby: I can’t believe Trump wants to investigate voter fraud. There is absolutely no evidence of any fraud so there is no need to investigate anything. I, myself, voted three times in three different towns and I didn’t see any fraud at all.

Me: How did we get on this subject? We were just discussing your pet hamster.

Libby: It makes perfect sense to me.

Me: O…K … What about the other investigations going on? What do you think of those?

Libby: They are great. Everyone knows that Trump is a Russian spy and these investigations will prove it. I find it funny that the evil Hitlerites keeps saying that the investigations are ridiculous because there is no evidence of any collusion yet. Hello! THAT’S WHY YOU DO INVESTIGATIONS!

At this point it was clear that medical marijuana would be extremely helpful in this situation. So, I excused myself, went to the bathroom, smoked a bowl and returned. When I got back into the office Libby was standing in the corner, chanting about anti-fascists and trying to light my therapy dolls on fire. After a few minutes of the soothing chant “what do we want? Dead Cops. When do we want them? Now.” She settled back into her seat and we continued.

Me: You seem upset. What happened?

Libby: While everyone else is covering the rain storm in evil Texas, CNN is still covering the real news, Charlottesville and Trump’s racist comment about all-sides being responsible for violence.

Me: Talk to me about violence and racism.

Libby: Well. What I know is that all the racists on the right are violent and full of hate. They really should all be killed.

Me: And racism?

Libby: Well. You should be willing to accept everyone regardless of their skin color, sexual orientation or gender choice. Everyone should respect each other.

Me:  Who do you respect?

Libby: Well I tell you who I don’t respect: anyone on the right! Those people are stupid and hateful and should all be punched in the face, kicked and lit on fire!

Me: That seems a little violent and disrespectful to me?

Libby: Not everyone deserves respect!

Me: But, you just said …

Libby: And how about this? How about you explain to me how punching someone you disagree with is violent? Sometimes people won’t listen and you have to get slightly extreme to get them to listen. So what if innocent people get beaten or their homes get burned down? Trump got another scoop of ice cream! People need to listen to what I have to say because I am always right and good. Good people can’t be violent. What do you think about that?

Me: I think you are bat-shit crazy! (I never was a good psychologist)

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day about the preponderance of “peaceful protests” (read angry mobs) since Donald Trump was elected. My friend is an intelligent and well-informed woman. She said of them “They are great. They are what democracy is all about: the masses standing up for what is right and having their voices heard.” And the violence? “There really hasn’t been that much violence, but sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet.” As a friend, I could not very well smack her in the face with a live fish. Plus, that would be violent. Could I make a fish omelet? No. I decided instead to try to educate her. I tried, first to use the words of others:

Since civil war memorials are all the rage right now, I decided to use Abraham Lincoln “There is no grievance that is a fit object of redress by mob law.” No effect. “He is from a different time.” I was told in no uncertain terms.  Apparently, the man who freed the slaves and guided us through civil war cannot fathom the problems of snowflakes melting on statues.

Ok. Time to go more modern. Bobby Kennedy, paragon of the left said “an uncontrolled or uncontrollable mob is only the voice of madness, not the voice of the people.” … and nothin’.

Ok. How about a female perspective? Ayn Rand wrote “Rights are not a matter of numbers – and there can be no such thing, in law or in morality, as actions forbidden to an individual, but permitted to a mob” Boom! Right? Nope. Apparently, Ayn Rand doesn’t count as a woman because she doesn’t represent what the average woman thinks. WHAT THE F#CK?

Ok. Now it was time to go all out historical on her liberal ass…umptions. I first explained that we are not a democracy while we do have democratic elements. We are, indeed, a representative republic. In fact, there have been relatively few pure democracies in the history of the world. To be honest I could not and cannot now think of one deserving of the name.

“But Whiggy!” You say. “What about the cradle of democracy? What about ancient Athens?”

Stop calling me Whiggy. We aren’t close enough for that yet. Ok. Ok. I will concede. The Athenian “democracy” was about as pure of a democracy as the world has known for any country and/or city-state. (Calm down small-town USA with your cute little town meetings. You’re too little and inconsequential to count.) However, Athenian “democracy” did not include all or even most residents of Athens. In fact, less than 20% of the populace could legally take part in democratic endeavors. Women had no right to vote. Foreigners had no right to vote (pssst – they had a wall).  And…. wait for it … SLAVES had no rights! Let the moral outrage begin! Time to ravage all Greek ruins! Destroy all Sororities and Fraternities. To hell with you baklava! I think the Greeks added a few other things to society as well. They must all go! But I digress.

I further explained to my dear liberal acolyte friend, the founding fathers (get over it, they were all white males) feared the mob. They understood that checks and balances needed to be in place to prevent the mob mentality of the day from prevailing on the liberties of the minority. If you have any question, read the Federalist Papers, particularly #10 by James Madison. Do you think it accidental that the citizens have no direct vote on any law? No. The framers understood that the masses were apt to let passion and the movement du jour rule their behaviors. For our nation to succeed, those things needed to be held in check and tempered. We are a country of laws NOT of the passions of men.

Even with all this, she refused to budge. “These protests are important. They stand for social justice. They are changing our history!” Now it was on!

We discussed the Occupy movement. Occupy Wall Street. Occupy Atlanta. Occupy L.A. Occupy Seattle. Occupy your mom’s basement. What the hell was it about and what did it accomplish? I was told it was about abolishing corporate greed and advocating for income equality. My retort? “Well that worked. Corporate greed is gone and everyone’s income is equal! Halleluiah and praise justifiable trespassing and vandalism.” Apparently, my sarcasm is not appreciated by everyone. She seemed to be happy that these things were now part of the social discourse. Because, no one has ever mentioned them before in all of history. “Any city, however small, is on fact divided into two, one the city of the poor, the other of the rich; these are at war with one another” – Plato. We agreed that we would move on from the Occupy Movement…

Next, I brought up the Million Vagina March at which she was present. I asked how protesting a legal election wearing a vagina on your head helped stand for social justice and how it brought about change. I was told it was giving voice to the millions of women who felt disenfranchised and victimized by Donald Trump. Now, believe me friends I struggled with my next words. Do I respond with eloquence or do I go all Whiggy on her? Seriously, was there ever a question? I explained, with a devilishly charming smirk on my face, that I had never heard the voice of a vagina expect that one time in college but, in fairness, I was drunk and I’m pretty sure the girl was a ventriloquist. As a testament to why we are friends, she laughed and did agree the hats and costumes were sophomoric. I corrected her. They were moronic. I inquired how anyone who actually voted could be disenfranchised. “It a feeling.” How were they victimized? “It’s a feeling”.  Uh Oh – feelings. I fell into the trap. I asked how she would have felt if I wore a vagina costume and a cigar costume sewn together while wearing a Hillary ’16 pin. We agreed to move on from the Million Vagina march…

We started on a conversation about the more recent protests or what I like to call … History: The Stalin Method… We agreed to move on from History: The Stalin Method.

So, what did I learn from this conversation? Nothing. What did she learn? Nothing. Why did I share? Two reasons:

1. You’ve all had similar conversations. You are not alone. I there with you. Well, not literally but in spirit and watching through hidden cameras.
2. Because I had to share the talking vagina story. It’s actually true. She asked for Devil Dogs and Cherry Garcia Ice Cream. I went and got it. I’m not an idiot.