Oh Kerswinky, oh Kerswanky, oh Kerswinky Swanky Sue, Torn Slatterns and Nugget Ranchers





Happy #TalkLikeAPirateDay For some reason I thought this was in Marrrrrrrrrrrch.




Donald Trump is surveying the flood damage following Hurricane Florence. Things are bad. Trump may have to throw paper towels and mops.




Kylie Jenner is trending because she tweeted she tried milk and cereal for the first time. Kylie liked it so much, she wrote the recipe down.



Stormy Daniels wrote a book giving the details of having sex with Donald Trump called "Full Disclosure." Interesting fact: the only time Stormy used the word long in the book was when talking about her shower after.




Let's see how Sarah Huckabee Sanders responds to a question about Stormy Daniels's accusation Donald Trump has a small penis. I'm guessing her answer will also be short.





In "Full Disclosure," Stormy Daniels described Donald Trump's genitalia in detail. The second most embarrassing fact? Trump has two combovers.





Stormy Daniels just wrote a book giving the intimate details about having sex with Donald Trump. It is available at your bookstore in the "I just threw up in my mouth" section. 





Stormy Daniels wrote a book giving detailing sex with Donald Trump. Daniels said the sex was not two minutes, the least impressive ever and Trump’s penis was small and shaped like a toadstool mushroom. Apparently $130,000 does not include good reviews.

If Trump is not careful, this Stormy Daniels thing could get embarrassing.






Donald Trump: "Stormy Daniels is a liar."

Stormy Daniels: "Donald Trump's penis looks like a toadstool."

Melania storms out of the room furiously.


Since you asked;

The Toadstool Monument

When it comes to presidential staffs, Donald Trump is not the first to have a member, shall we say, described. 

But he is the first to be mocked for his shortcomings.

Lyndon Johnson was infamous for brandishing his penis, but, in pizza terms, LBJ was more in the large sausage than a mushroom.

Yes Sir, LBJ was well-known for brandishing his and proclaiming, 

“Have you ever seen anything as big as this sumbitch?” 

Or words to that effect.

Paula Jones testified that Bill Clinton’s, despite his democratic tendencies, actually had leanings to the right. Five inches erect and diameter of a quarter, and a turn to the right, to be specific according to Jones’s testimony. 

Normal, but far, far, far from presidential.

One might surmise Richard Nixon was called “Tricky Dick” for a reason. A book or two has been written that Nixon’s sexual predilections were similar to J. Edgar Hoover’s. Sun bathing naked with Bebe Rebozo on Rebozo’s yacht while singing show tunes does not seem to refute that theory. 

And it could be assumed, if you make an ass of you and me, that Teddy Roosevelt did not come up with the name Bull Moose Party by accident.

For all his “Camelot” class, John F. Kennedy was famous for complaining if he did not have sex once a day he got blinding headaches. But from Marilyn to mafia fun girl, Judith Exner, the JFK reviews were not lavish. The words wham and bam seemed to come up. Exner or Marilyn, I cannot remember which, compared JFK quite unfavorably to Elvis saying Elvis really was the King.


This might be due to JFK’s well known taste for prostitutes. It is how he lost his virginity according to several biographies. Prostitutes are not known to be famous for their extended performances. JFK might have picked up his speedy habits there. As well as more than a few medical problems.  

Unlike with Stormy and Trump, somehow I just can't picture Marilyn Monroe saying of JFK's penis, 


"It reminded me of the lollipop guild munchkin in 'The Wizard of Oz.'"

As a Kennedy fan, I want to excuse the alleged performance brevity on the myriad of drugs Dr. Feelgood, Max Jacobson, had JFK on. Speed and downers are not an aphrodisiac. And I worked out with his son, JFK Jr. at the Downtown Athletic Club once or twice and he was one genetically buffed dude. Not tall but not short. Same brown hair and model handsome. (Before you ask, no, I did not see him in the shower)   


Ambitious politicians, like professional athletes and entertainers and other born leaders, are often known to have voracious appetites for life. Clinton could suck down six plates of ribs. So could Martin Luther King Jr. Washington, Jefferson, Nixon, Truman, LBJ, Kennedy and especially Ulysses S. Grant, and many others were well-known drinkers. 

And A-types love the attention of beautiful women and women are attracted to powerful men. There is a reason half the historic homes in Virginia have a “Washington Slept Here” sign. Hell, although not a president, but a powerful man, Henry Kissinger was a well-known hound as was Benjamin Franklin. Neither one of them would be described as vaguely sexy.   

Teddy Roosevelt, despite his often-mocked "Bully, bully, tally ho, lads" Eastern rich-kid affected lock-jaw way of speaking, was a tough guy. A genuinely great horseman, he could jump tall fences, and he delivered a speech after getting shot in the chest. 

There is a story of a drunk North Dakota cowboy in a saloon menacingly and tauntingly mocking Teddy's goofy nose-glasses, gestures and fancy speech pattern right in front of Teddy to the guffaws of the other drunk cowboys in the bar. Teddy walked up to him and knocked the guy out cold with one punch. 

The bar got real silent. Teddy ate 12 eggs a day. While boxing at the White House, Teddy got blinded in one eye. 

No bone spurs on Teddy's heels.   

To a man, almost every president we had was a man's man, a poker-playing, cigar-smoking, booze-swizzling, juicy-steak-eating, skirt-chasing, dog-loving alpha male.

Except Donald Trump. He does not drink, eats meat over-cooked well-done and it is well documented he despises dogs.  

The old saying must be true: power really is an aphrodisiac. From Washington and Jefferson to Harding to FDR and Kennedy, many of our presidents were reputed horn dogs. For crying-out-loud, even straight-laced General Eisenhower was gettin' himself a little sumpin'-sumpin' on the side.

You storm that beach and get some, you Ike-dog, you.

However, make no mistake about it, Donald Trump is the only president whose both manhood and performance has been impugned as, shall we say, lacking. No Washington Monument will be erected in Trump’s memory, no doubt. 

Maybe the Trump Toadstool Monument? 

But Donald Trump has more than made up for his lack of physical endowment. Just ask the countless independent contractors Trump stiffed, excuse my expression. 

No, there is no doubt about it, Donald Trump has been a huge dick his entire life.


****************





Right now, I am exactly "I carry an old driver's license with me on my dog-hikes in case I drop dead so they can identify my body" years old.

Before I found my game as a confident and bonafide “player,” in college and after,  I was just a big, muscular decathlon/football-playing, long-haired, Eagles-loving jock on the outside my senior year in high school, but, on the inside, an insecure, highly sensitive dork, like my brother. 

As a result, I had my heart destroyed, crushed, eviscerated by not one, but two gorgeous but spoiled-rotten, selfish, rude, sadistic North Shore rich-girl brats.

Including a torn hamstring, a broken heart was not the best way to head off to college in California.  

To this day, in reflection of how spiteful, mean and awful these women were to me, I still cannot stand hearing their names more than 40 years later. 

In keeping with what is going on in the news, 17-year-old boys know exactly what they're doing, or not doing, when it comes to having or not-having sex. 

They know exactly. And they remember. Saying anything else is a lie. Me? I remember each strawberry lip-gloss kiss, soft cashmere sweater, the smell of perfume and the joy of each unclasped bra. 

My theory as to why these two visual angels, but mental devils, were so viciously heartless to me -   and I was proven right after having sex in college with one - is they wanted to break up with me before I found out how, well, let’s say uninterested they were in having sex. At least in terms of having sex with a man. 

(Yes, you get my drift)

That summer of my existential heartache, complete with physically searing emotional pain, while in the gorgeous, brisk and pine-floral woods of Northern Michigan, hard against the white sandy shores of Lake Michigan, this god-awful song played on heavy rotation on radio mocking both my frustration and my pain: 

  



God only knows how much I hate this band and this song. 

F*@k you and your motto, you Harry Carey-glasses, polyester-cowboy-shirt-stolen-from-a-pimp-in-a-gay-leather-bar shirt wearer and your Carla-from-"Cheers" hair, you day-humping uber dork.

And yet, despite my sun-hot hatred for this band, I can understand why others like them. Good voices and harmonies. 

So go eff, yourselves, Eagles haters. Go eff that ess right in the bee.