Ant Farmer's Almanac

Historians Declare Trump 3 of the Top 5 Worst U.S. Presidents

Employees' Song Greeting Visitors Back to Florida Kingdom Alleged to be Magical

Bet your life
Bet your life
Your existence has a price
A smile is all you need here
But a mask is also nice
Start your tour through this door
Uncle Walt’s beneath the floor
The fluorescent bleach’s delicious
Don’t believe me? Ask Trump’s bitches!
They can spin 
Can’t dance, though
Almost close to Mar-A-Lago
No one’s gloomy or complaining
But to breathe we are all straining
We tell jokes
As we choke
While we entertain you folks
For this we went to Julliard?
The job market is really hard
Bet your life
Bet your life
Bet your life!

 

Holden Caufield’s Book Report on Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea

Found in Holden Caufield’s dorm room after he was expelled and went home to Manhattan.

So, I guess you want to know about all this fisherman stuff.

Ernest Hemingway’s newest book is about an old Cuban fisherman, Santiago, who hasn’t caught any fish for 84 days. Everybody’s saying he’s a loser and even his assistant has been told to ditch him.

He goes out in his crummy boat to fish anyway. He hooks a marlin, at least he thinks it’s a marlin, Hemingway allows some doubt and, if you think about it, if Santiago doesn’t know even know what kind of fish it is, he is kind of a loser. When I went to the aquarium with my little sister Pheobe, even she could tell the difference between a lot of the fish and she’s just a kid. Anyway, whatever kind of fish it is, it’s big enough that it pulls the boat around for two days. At first, Santiago feels admiration for the fish, then sorry for it, then he kills it. Then sharks come and he kills them. But not all of them. The sharks he doesn’t kill eat most of the probably-a-marlin and Santiago rows back home with what’s left of it. Some tourists don’t know what kind of fish it is either. Other fishermen understand what Santiago accomplished, even if it was all for nothing, and Santiago falls asleep and dreams of lions on a beach in Africa.

The story is probably an allegory or a metaphor or something. I don’t know. Maybe it symbolizes man’s struggle with nature and how, even when you win, you still lose, but I don’t really think that and it would seem kind of phony, since that’s what everybody says about Moby Dick and why would Hemingway bother writing another symbolic fish story when it’s already been done and everybody’s been forced to read it like a thousand times? 

I think maybe it’s Hemingway’s gripe about how when he writes something he’s doing it alone and isn’t even sure it’s worth doing or what it is. Then, when he’s done with it, what’s left isn’t quite what he expected. Other writers may appreciate it, even if they don’t think it’s any good, but most people don’t really get it, even if they say it’s so grand because he’s a great writer and anything he does is supposed be grand, but they don’t really know.

I don’t really get the part about lions on the beach. Maybe Hemingway was tired of writing it and just started thinking about what else he’d rather be doing or wondering if there even are lions on beaches in Africa and how they got there. Maybe he should write a book about that.

Anyway, I liked it and at least it was shorter than Moby Dick. They’ll probably make some phony movie out of it and ruin it with some way-too-handsome Hollywood movie star playing Santiago, all made up to look like an old Cuban fisherman, even though he isn’t.

 

 

 

DARWIN AWARDS HALTS 2020 NOMINATIONS, GRANTS ALL HUMANITY A PARTICIPATION TROPHY AND CALLS IT A DAY

GALAPAGOS ISLANDS, EQUADOR (AFA NewsWire) Despite the year 2020 having only just hit the halfway mark, officials of the Darwin Awards have announced they are no longer reviewing nominations, and will hereby cease the judging and awarding process for this year, citing an “Overabundance of candidates” and “Uncertainty that, as a species, mankind deserves to continue inhabiting the planet”. 

Since 1993, the tongue-in-cheek organization has annually saluted the “Improvement of the Human Genome by Honoring Those Who Accidentally Remove Themselves from It In a Spectacular Manner”.

“Naturally, we’d figured on giving the big 2020 prize to U.S. President Donald Trump,” said Darwin Awards spokesman Elijah Radcliffe, “But, he couldn’t have done it alone and, as we expanded the scope to include all who’d enabled him and aided and abetted his rise, well, it just kept going and finally just roped in pretty much everybody. To that end, the whole of humanity has earned itself a participation trophy,” adding listlessly, "So, congratulations, I guess?"

“It all stopped being funny a couple of years ago and now, it seems altogether pointless,” says former Darwin Award committee member, Daniel Wood, adding, “Skipping this year isn't a very controversial move, nobody can credibly argue against doing that.”

The committee said in a press release that it plans to shelter-in-place on the Galapagos Islands in the hope that after a few million years they will evolve into some sort of otter like creatures because, "Who doesn't like otters?" 

 

Ben Affleck to Be New Face of Uncle Ben's Rice

"We're Swapping Out One Ben for Another, So Problem Solved!"

(AFA NewsWire) At a hastily called press conference this morning, the parent company of Uncle Ben's Rice announced that actor/director Ben Affleck will become the new face of their product.

Under intense pressure to change their mascot, an image drawn from racist iconography, the company believes it has found a speedy and satisfactory resolution.

"He's somebody's uncle, right?" stated Harlan Dervish, spokesman for the company's marketing team, "I mean, Casey Affleck's probably got kids, doesn't he? We'll check IMDB... he is, yes, good," adding, "It's a twofer! An uncle and he's named Ben!"

"All we have to do now is change the picture on the package and we're good," said a visibly relieved Dervish, "And, by swapping out one Ben for another, the company stands to save millions of dollars by avoiding the disruption and high cost of a complete rebranding, savings we can pass on to the consumer!"

"We went through a long list of potential replacements before settling on Mr. Affleck: Ben Stiller, Ben Franklin, Ben Turpin, Benjamin Harrison, Benjamin Bratt, Benny Hill, H. Jon Benjamin and the TV bear Gentle Ben," said Dervish in response to reporters' questions about why Mr. Affleck was chosen, "The problem wasn't the name 'Ben', just who Ben was. Mr. Affleck ticked off all the boxes, a Ben, an uncle, not a racial stereotype and, except for maybe Daredevil, Gigli, Jersey Girl, The Accountant, Pearl Harbor and his turn as Batman, fairly well-liked."

"With this change, we've fixed everything, so we can all get back to enjoying this fine line of rice products, now available in microwavable pouches."

Asked if he anticipated any blowback for replacing a black mascot with a white one, Dervish responded, "Oh, for . . . Geez, we're done here."

Details and terms of Mr. Affleck's involvement were not revealed and Mr. Affleck or his representatives did not respond to our requests for comment.

Illustration by Martin Kozlowski 

 

 

 

Facebook Jail Tattoos

Trump Awards Himself Medal of Freedom and Purple Heart

WASHINGTON DC (AFA NewsWire) At an unscheduled Rose Garden ceremony held early this morning, president Donald Trump awarded himself the Presidential Medal of Freedom and the Purple Heart. 

“When I said that I view the number of cases [of COVID-19] as a badge of honor, I meant it literally,” said Mr. Trump, “And this medallion is proof of my commitment to bravely sacrificing as many lives as it takes to keep America in the forefront of anything, always and in every way, no matter what.”

Vice president Mike Pence, beaming with pride and admiration, handed the medal to the president who then looped the ribbon holding it around his own head. Mr. Pence then pinned a Purple Heart onto the president’s suit jacket.

“I’ve always wanted one of these,” said Mr. Trump, “And no president has ever deserved it more than I do. Every day, I suffer more attacks than anyone who’s ever held this office. My enemies, in the fake media, the Democrats, they come at me day after day, nonstop, so unfairly, wounding me with relentless insults and meanness. But,” the president continued, “I’m telling them, here and now, to just turn around. They’re not welcome anymore. I will go on. I will survive. They may think I’d just crumble. Just lay down and die. But, no, Oh no, I will survive. Oh, I know I'll stay alive. I've got all my life to live and I'll survive. I will survive. Hey, hey.”

When asked if the Pentagon had signed off on presenting a medal usually awarded for wounds suffered in combat to a civilian with no history of military service for, essentially, hurt feelings, the Joint Chiefs' press officer pretended to be an answering machine, told us to leave a message, said “Beep” and then quickly hung up.

 

2020 Visions

Morf

ONE MORNING, D awoke to find himself transformed into the president. Also, he had turned into a cockroach.

When he tried to speak, all that came out was a peculiar noise. Not a word, exactly but, it sounded like "Morf". 

His family was shocked and horrified. Nonetheless, when he headed to the presidential palace, they followed along.

Crowds lined the streets as D walked by. On one side were cheering throngs, many of whom wore deely bobber headgear that resembled cockroachy antannea, and some of whom were actual cockroaches. On the other side were people booing and throwing things at him.

D fumed as organic fruit and recyclable bottles of artisanal water zipped past his head. Finally he turned to the cheering side, swept his foreleg toward the booing side and cried, "Morf!" 

As if commanded, the cheering side rushed across the street and begin pummeling the booers, who'd been too busy debating what, if anything, 'Morf' meant to notice the impending assault. 

A few fought back but most responded with poetry and interpretive dance. They were beaten senseless.

At the presidential palace, D strode down the main corridor barking out “Morf!” at everyone he saw. Some of them immediately began doing things he wanted done but most just stood there looking puzzled. Soon, those who didn’t understand him were being escorted out of the building by those who did.

After the hugest, most spectacular, and longest-lasting installation ceremony of anyone to the presidency of anything, anywhere, before or since, D stepped onto a balcony to address his public. Most of the adoring crowd wore deely bobber antennae or were dressed as cockroaches, along with actual cockroaches, and all of them were chanting, “Morf! Morf! Morf!”

D hardly needed to say anything, which was good since he only said one thing. And, whenever he said it, it was exactly what they wanted to hear.

While opposition to the president and his all-cockroach cabinet struggled to make sense of it all and scrambled for more of a response than, “HE’S A COCKROACH!”, the roaches consolidated their power. 

Non-roach supporters, who wore deely bobbers to show solidarity, became known as “fauxches”.

Roaches and fauxches were quickly appointed to government positions and sent abroad as emissaries. They weren’t always welcomed warmly and sometimes not welcome at all. 

Opponents of the president continued to emphasize that, “HE’S A COCKROACH!” To which D’s spokesfauxches responded snippily, “Dressing like, acting like and agreeing with cockroaches doesn’t necessarily make somebody a cockroach,” adding, “Besides, cockroaches are cunning survivors who do whatever they have to stay alive and will outlast everybody else on earth. What’s wrong with that?”

Pundits and journalists sprang into inaction, cranking out heavily footnoted essays, strongly worded editorials and thought-provoking TED Talks. Still, along with any criticism, their commentary always included admiration — even praise — for the administration’s tenacity, resolute single-mindedness and successful messaging.

Meanwhile, D — through his advisors — outlawed bug spray, roach traps, exterminators and the entire pest control industry. It was also decreed stepping on a cockroach or anything previously categorized — so unfairly! — as “vermin” to be a hate crime. 

As more laws were passed, amended or repealed to the benefit of roaches, it seemed obvious that D’s programs and policies were pro-roach at the expense of everyone else. However, what with everyone else so busy trying to not step on any — and they were now everywhere — there was hardly time to do anything about it.

Presidential spokesfauxches expressed outrage at the suggestion he was helping only the cockroach population. Arguments broke out on TV.

“Oh, yeah, well, what about when a person was president, he only cared about people! So, now you know how it feels! Get used to it.”

“But, you’re not really a . . .  you’re just wearing deely bobber antennae.” 

“You’re just jealous because you’re not a cockroach. Cockroaches are awesome. Cockroaches RULE!”

“Nothing he’s doing actually helps you, though.”

“He's making the world better for cockroaches and,” [winking at camera] “That's good for everybody!” 

“Uh, no. Not really.”

“Why do you hate cockroaches so much? There are very fine cockroaches!”

"No, there aren’t. They're all terrible . . ."

Moderator: “Well, there you have it, both sides of this complicated debate . . .”

"It's not complicated, cockroaches are bad and pretending to be one is just . . . weird."

Moderator: “Sorry, we’re out of time.” 

About the only thing everybody could agree on was that since D had become president, there were a lot more roaches around. But where had they come from? Had they been here all along? Were people turning into roaches? How did that happen? 

Had D always been a cockroach? Maybe? Probably? No one could remember. Somebody would have noticed, right? And, what did Morf mean and did it even matter at this point?

SPOKESFAUXCHES WENT ON and on about how much D had accomplished and how much better things were. And, for cockroaches, things were better. Sanitation regulations were rolled back and garbage pickup severely limited (too costly!) and cockroaches were eating more and better than ever, living and swarming wherever they liked and no one could stop them. 

Every time it seemed as if life couldn't get any worse for non-roaches, it did.

When even fauxches complained about the spreading mess, the cockroaches in charge waved them away, insisting, “It’s not a problem if you’re a roach so, bug off.” They pointed to infestations of mice, rats, raccoons and coyotes in the piles of trash, insisting that was real problem, asking, “What about them, huh?“ and “What smell?”

And just like that, everyone was talking about mice, rats, raccoons and coyotes. Anyone who mentioned that cockroaches had created the conditions that attracted them in the first place was denounced as an enemy of cockroaches and, therefore, the president.

This sort of thing happened all the time. Every day. Several times a day. It was hard to keep track. 

Time felt different. Days went by both faster and slower than before. It was hard to know if it was today or yesterday or the day before that. Few people could even remember for how long D had been president. 

The opposition, exhausted by shouting “BUT HE’S A COCKROACH!” for however long they’d been doing that, now just shrugged dejectedly.

THE FIRE STARTED in a trash pile and, since trash was strewn all over, quickly spread to the other trash piles and was soon burning everywhere and out of control.  

Spokesfauxches rushed on television to say things.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It must have been started by mice, rats, raccoons and coyotes to make roaches look bad.”

“Fires happen all the time. Why the big deal about this one?”

“It’s only hurting mice, rats, raccoons and coyotes so it isn’t a problem.”

“Are you sure it’s really a fire?”

“The president is doing everything he can to protect roaches from this not-as-bad-as-it-looks-and-maybe-not-even-a-fire.”

But the fire, being a fire, also burned roaches, fauxches and other people, and caused lots of property damage. 

Now when D shouted “Morf, Morf, Morf!” from the balcony some of the crowd still cheered and chanted, “Morf, Morf, Morf!” back at him, but many just stood there, more puzzled than ever. 

Once the fire was mostly out, even while people were still sorting through burnt debris, spokesfauxches went on TV again and said more things.

“It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Thanks to the president, not too many roaches were harmed or inconvenienced.”

“Who knew piles of trash could catch fire. The president was never warned.”

“The loss of life and property is terrible, I guess but, luckily, it was mostly mice, rats, raccoons and coyotes, who shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

“The president was prevented from preventing the fire by his roach-hating enemies.”

“What fire?”

After the fire, a lot of fauxches stopped stopped wearing their deely bobber antennae. 

The cockroaches went on making their lives better in every way they could think of and then some. Presidential spokesfauxches continued to say things on TV.

Everybody who wasn’t a roach was very, very tired.

THEN, ONE MORNING, D woke up and was no longer president. He was still a cockroach. 

He didn’t leave the presidential palace right away. For how long he lingered there and what it took to finally remove him is a story that almost no one agrees upon.

By the time D was gone and fumigation tents covered the building, the cockroaches had grabbed everything they could and scurried out of sight. 

The streets were soon littered with discarded deely bobber antennae. Only a few die-hard fauxches still wear theirs and you might see the occasional fading "MORF!" bumper sticker but, in less time than you'd think, people were debating whether cockroaches even exist and if D had ever been president at all. 

 

Trump Backtracks Claim of Total Presidential Authority After Viewing Season 3 of Schoolhouse Rock

“America doesn’t allow kings. Not many people know that,” said Mr. Trump, adding, “And that "I’m Just a Bill" song is catchy, so catchy; I’ll have that stuck in my head all day.”

 

EPA Kicks Off New Round of Deregulation by Reigniting Cuyahoga River

CLEVELAND (AFA NewsWire) For the first time in more than 50 years, the Cuyahoga River was ablaze again last night in a spectacular display dubbed, “Smoke on the Water” as the “opening ceremony” of the Environmental Protection Agency’s latest round of deregulation.

“We wanted to make a big splash,” said Roy L. Ashall, a Trump-appointed assistant acting deputy to the acting assistant of the acting deputy director of the EPA, “The president likes to put on a good show and we thought this would be a real barn burner… except it’s a river, not a barn,” and, Ashall added, “It’s something of a tradition around here, I’m told. Isn’t there’s even a song about it?”

The Cuyahoga River, which was infamously and frequently flammable for much of the 20th century, due to it’s toxically polluted water, has undergone decades of vigorous clean-up and rehabilitation, sparking revived waterfront neighborhoods and active aquatic sports. 

While previous fires were the result of years of neglected maintenance and blatantly illegal dumping, this “controlled burn” was created by towing a barge filled with a combination of crude oil and gasoline into the area known as The Flats and igniting it.

“The gas acts as an accelerant and the crude floats and burns more slowly,” notes Ashall, “It’ll burn itself out in a few days or weeks. Probably,” adding, “Oh, and, sorry about that bridge.”

EPA’s goals this year include rollbacks of fuel economy standards, relaxing of climate warming pollution and ignoring the dumping of toxic chemicals into public waterways.

“The theme is, “Back to the Good Old Days,” enthused Ashall, “We want to make industrial waste a household name again.”

Although one city hall official remembered something about an EPA request for a fireworks permit, Cleveland mayor Frank G. Jackson and Ohio governor Mike DeWine both denied prior knowledge of the event. 

 

Shortage of Ice Floes Sinks Proposal to Send Seniors Adrift at Sea

Global Warming Blamed

WASHINGTON, DC (AFA NewsWire) A leaked internal email, purportedly from the Federalist Society, reveals a proposal for sending non-productive senior citizens at risk for the coronavirus out to sea on ice floes. 

Meant to capitalize on the growing sentiment in conservative circles that older Ameicans should voluntarily give up their lives to save the economy, the plan, entitled, “Sometimes the Old Ways Are Best” revives the Inuit practice of senilicide, last used in 1939 and, to be fair, only in times of extreme hardship before then. 

With no indication of to whom the proposal was to be presented, the memo details the rationale for the project — old people are a drag on the economy in the best of times and, under the current circumstances, an existential threat to the Dow Jones — and suggests ways to spin the concept to be more palatable (“Go With the Floe!”) to the general public as well as the senior citizens themselves. 

This latter issue, however, has proved “. . .less of an obstacle than expected. . .” according to the memo since, “. . .followers of the various pundits openly forwarding the idea seem non-plussed by its Swiftian aspect with some enthusiastically eager to make this sacrifice”.

Only in a reply to the original email is a lack of ice on which to place willing seniors presented as a problem.

“Despite global warming being a hoax or at least a liberal media exaggeration of naturally occurring fluctuations of the Earth’s climate, there is at present, a notable shortage of appropriately sized ice floes to hold an elderly American long enough to get them past being visible from shore.” 

The memo goes onto to debate whether a profitable contract industry could be created to fill this need but, it ultimately determines any such venture a non-starter also noting that, “The existing supply of ice floes is populated by very territorial polar bears, many of them drinking Coca-Cola.”

 

Dickens’ Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future's Post-Haunt Analysis of Unsuccessful Attempt to Show Donald Trump the Error of His Ways

PAST GHOST
What the hell just happened?

PRESENT GHOST
I don’t understand it at all.

FUTURE GHOST
What do we do next?

PAST GHOST
I dunno, I mean, we did everything right, right?

PRESENT GHOST
Yeah, yeah. we showed him his own miserable childhood, the misery he’s inflicting on others now, his own future misery…

FUTURE GHOST
Weird that he laughed.

PAST GHOST
Just flat-out denied it, ‘Never happened,’ he said.

PRESENT GHOST
‘Fake haunting’, he tells me. What does that even mean?

FUTURE GHOST
Refused to believe he was seeing his own funeral, ‘This can’t be it,’ he says, ‘Mine’ll be yoooge’. 

PAST GHOST
Didn’t stop tweeting the whole time. He was barely paying attention.

PRESENT GHOST
Never seen anything like it. The insults, the name-calling.

FUTURE GHOST
Even Scrooge never made fun of the way Tiny Tim moved around on his crutch.

PAST GHOST
Or rated Mrs. Cratchit ‘No better than a 4, tops’.

PRESENT GHOST
She's a solid 7, easy . . .

FUTURE GHOST
For her time, especially, yeah.

PAST GHOST
Never seen anything like it. 

PRESENT GHOST
(To Future)
You gave him the skeletal finger pointing to his own demise business? 

FUTURE GHOST
Whole nine yards; ground fog, thunder, lightning, well-timed organ sting — you know he loves melodrama — the only thing that seemed to get to him was seeing his name being taken off his properties.

PAST GHOST
Maybe we’re using the wrong approach; maybe erasure of his life and legacy is the way to go, like in It’s A Wonderful Life?

PRESENT GHOST
Has Capra got ghosts?

FUTURE GHOST
He’s got angels, same difference.

PAST GHOST
Here’s his number.

PRESENT GHOST
Who’ve we got for tonight?

FUTURE GHOST
McConnell.

PAST GHOST
Oh, I am not looking forward to this.

 

Trump Shuttle on List of Airlines to Receive Financial Bailout

Pence Issues First Statement on Battling Coronavirus

"We can convert this crisis into a cure," states new coronavirus czar

WASHINGTON, DC (AFA NewsWire) In his first official act as coronavirus czar, vice president Mike Pence today handed out lapel pins emblazoned with the phrases, "Denying is Defying!" and "Fake it till you shake it!" 

Pence has waved off recommendations from the WHO, the CDC and other public health organizations and is drawing instead on his experience with public health crises while governor of Indiana. This included leaning heavily on gay conversion therapy and "praying away the gay" as methods of preventing HIV. His coronavirus campaign emphasizes the individual's role and responsibility in dealing with the pandemic.

A flyer distributed to the assembled press lays out the foundation of Pence's call to action.

If you have, or think you have, coronavirus, repress all symptoms and behave as if you don’t have it. Do things a healthy person would do, even if you don’t feel well enough to do them. Do them anyway. Act as if you're healthier than the healthiest person who ever lived, as if you were someone who, blessedly, will never know the agony of a soul tortured by the power of the coronavirus.

Just the simple act of denying the coronavirus’ effect on you will blunt and reverse the virus. Never give in to the overpowering and persistent temptation to acknowledge and accept the fact that you may really have it. Keep reminding yourself how much better it is to not have the coronavirus and how much happier and well-adjusted you'd be if you don’t. Wouldn't you rather be someone who doesn't have the coronavirus? Of course you would.

Tips on Avoiding the coronavirus:

• Wash your hands frequently.
• Don’t be alone in a room with the coronavirus.
• Drink plenty of fluids.
• Avoid musical theater, discos, the E! Channel and, if you have it, Bravo. Also, just to be on the safe side, most of the Food Channel; the holiday themed baking shows, especially.
• Invest more in the stock market. Help boost America's economic immune system!
• If you get a common cold or even the flu, don't panic; just keep telling yourself, "It isn't the coronavirus, it's just a phase I'm going through and I'll get over it."
• Seek the help of a cleric of your choice but, remember to wear a face mask over your nose and mouth so he knows what he's up against and not get too close to you.

Congressional Republicans Congratulate Trump for Being Time Magazine's "Person of the Year"

WASHINGTON (AFA NewsWire) In a party line vote taken today in the House of Representatives, Republicans voted to issue a proclamation congratulating President Donald Trump on being named Time Magazine's "Person of the Year". Senate Republicans later seconded the motion and issued a joint statement that the honor, while long overdue, was well deserved if too understated.

No sitting members responded to such questions from the press as, "You know he isn't really Time's "Person of the Year", right", "Are you serious?" and "What the fuck!?!"  

Congressional Democrats were quick to point out that the proclamation was utterly meaningless having not gone through any sort of the necessary procedures such a declaration would need to be "official". Nonetheless, at least a dozen staffers were tasked with going though the document with a fine-toothed comb looking for anything the Republicans were trying to sneak into the record.

Speaking on condition of anonymity and with visible fear in his eyes, one GOP House member explained, "Look, you don't want to be in the same zip code as Trump when he finds out that he's not Time's Person of the Year" and that he lost to a girl."

 

OK Boomer!

OK Boomer!
The New Musical Sensation Dividing the Generations
(To the tune of "Oklahoma!", with apologies to Rodgers & Hammerstein, their descendants, estates and lawyers)

OK Boomer, we are getting offa your damn lawn
And with rising seas and burning trees
Pretty soon we'll all of us be gone
OK Boomer, you have wrecked all that you leave behind
The economy, society,
And you vote as if you’ve lost your mind.

We know. You had all the best bands
But they're dead now, so just go pound sand!
And when we say
Shut up and go away!
We really mean it you Boomers
OK Boomers, oy vey!

OK Boomers, is there something wrong with all your brains?
The world's gone bust, you've lost our trust,
Was it chemtrails coming out of planes?
OK Boomers, we are cancel'ing you right here and now
For the mess you've made, we're throwing shade
And you respond by, what, having a cow?

We know. You had all the best bands
But they're dead now, so just go pound sand!
And when we say
Shut up and go away!
We really mean it you Boomers
OK Boomers, oy vey!

 

 

Alt-Writes: New Takes on Old Tales

101 Dalmations

Fashion designer's plan to use sustainable, renewable source for fur coats is thwarted by violent animal rights activists.

 

Alligators' Refusal to Relocate Nixes Border Moat

NEW YORK (AFA Newswire) Reaction to revelations that president Trump ordered a "water-filled trench, filled with snakes or alligators", built along the U.S. Mexico border, escalated further today when leaked White House memos about it were made public.

This new information includes that White House staffers went as far as calculating cost estimates for the project, where they encountered a mountain of logistical and budgetary obstacles.

The building and maintenance of a trench long enough to stretch from Brownsville, Texas to San Diego, California alone, much less access to and the cost of diverting enough water to keep it viable; the filtration, procurement and transport of snakes and/or gators, and their care and feeding all proved daunting and foreshadowed the plan's doom.

Also revealed were alternative schemes, including having border agents patrol while wearing hockey goalie masks and carrying chainsaws or -- and this was rejected as too cruel and unusual -- telemarketers, in person, shouting into bullhorns at anyone attempting to get into the country that their car's warranty was about to expire.

But in the end, the final blow came from an unexpected source: The alligators.

"When I retire, I'm moving to Florida," said Tock, designated spokesman for "Gators Ain't Goin'", the ad hoc group leading opposition to a mass relocation of the legendary alligators who have dwelt for decades in the sewers of New York.

"Seriously," intoned Tock, "We're expected to just give up our cosmopolitan sophisticated lifestyle under New York -- the greatest city in the world, amirite! -- and schlepp off to some sun-belt desert state where they don't even have a word for 'humidity'?" He (we're assuming) then added, "Eminent domain, what a croc!" prompting uproarious laughter from the others present.

No snakes responded to requests for comment.

 

 

 

Yasgur's Ghost

A little song to commemorate the collapse of both 50th Anniversary of Woodstock events.

 

Well, I came upon a middle-aged man
He was talking about the road
I asked, him, where you thinkin' of going
And this he told me
Well I'm off in search of Yasgur's ghost
Gonna hire me some rock and roll bands
Trynna get back to the land that set our 
Souls free

We are boomers, years now golden
Feeling like billion year old carbon
And we want to buy our way back into the garden

Well, then can I roam beside you?
My world's been in a haze,
And nostalgia's all that sells or 
Makes sense these days

And maybe it's that my time is up 
And maybe it's the lot of man
I still don't know who I am
But life's for yearning

We are boomers, years now golden
Feeling like billion year old carbon
And we can't just buy our way back into the garden

By the time we bailed on Woodstock
There was half-a-million gone...
And nowhere near any song 
Or celebration

And I dreamed I saw Max Yasgur floating 
Above me in the sky 
Said, the past ain't like it was

And by now you should know why

We are boomers, years now golden
Caught in our own devils bargain
We ought to have just booked
Madison Square Garden