CHERNOBYL NEVERLAND

russia probePutin approved movie set for release in 2018…along with another plume of radioactive gas. And an ICBM exchange between North and South Korea. And a zombie virus. And a Superbowl for concussion victims only. And the People’s Choice Awards, live from Beijing. And the Olympics, dead from Japan. And the Trump Invitational Celebrity Golf Supermodel Championships from New Zealand. And the latest sessions of Congress on how to do anything other than to battle over scandals. And Scandal’s new season on pay per view.

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And a contest to shoot six legged mutant deer with AR-15s and AK47s, winning carpetbagger to receive a contract to build a ReSport: a luxury, lead lined resort (to be pitched on Shark Tank) for zombie hunters, survivalist lecturers, and reality shows. 

 

Jared Kushner

Dear Ms. Lonlihearts

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Dear Ms. Lonlihearts,
     My wife Kim is hard to understand.  Now I have to figure out what to do before she leaves me.  I need your advice.
     What’s happened in the past year or so is very unnerving.  First Kim complains that I’m just laying around the house on weekends, and that if I don’t want to take her dancing I should at least get myself a hobby.  ‘Okay, okay,’ I agreed.  Since I was already a tool-and-die man, I thought I’d set up a little metalworking shop in the garage.  You know, putter around and maybe build some lawn furniture?  But then we had this big argument over China dealing with North Korea.  Me, I was flabbergasted to hear Kim take the wimpy Democratic side, and so soon after yelling her lungs out over me laying in our hammock while the grass grew half an inch higher than Ed’s next door!  Pointing out this flaw in her logic, I even started calling around to various aerospace contractors and computer stores.  Believe me, it was just a gag to watch Kim wig out.  But then this guy over at the junkyard takes me serious and tries selling me sixty sheets of surplus titanium he just bought from the CIA, along with six cases of vodka.  Before long I’m dipping into our vacation fund so I can buy an old Minuteman booster engine that’s been collecting rust in a warehouse in Huntsville, and enough Simms chips to upgrade my Dell to fifty gigs.  After that I’m assembling a fuselage in the back yard–and boy, did that really shut Kim up!  Trouble is, she stopped talking to me completely.  Especially when she found out I’d also taken a second mortgage on the house.
     Kim did like the publicity for a while, I must admit.  The first time I gave my missile a four-second test burn for the benefit of the police SWAT team who’d surrounded us, she actually stood up for me.  You shoulda heard her argue about how I was saving the American taxpayer millions by helping them update our “depleted military reserves” as a private citizen.  She praised my fiscal accountability too, letting them know that I don’t pay eighty bucks for a screwdriver like the wasteful Pentagon boys do.  I was so grateful and proud of her at that point that I only interrupted to admit that although my contribution wasn’t much, if EVERY neighborhood handyman and ex UPS driver upgraded their computer and built an ICBM beside his bird bath, the world would be so much safer as a result.  Then, I said, all the terrorists out there would know we can be as insane as they are, and we’d have the world’s respect at last!
     Luckily, we managed to calm everyone down by serving fried chicken.  And by the time I started talking about how I was helping the government concentrate on big issues like health care and out-of-control-celebrities some of them had even lowered their M-16s.  Soon after the question and answer period of my lecture, I did confess that my missile didn’t really house a warhead—just a canister of some spent nuclear fuel rods I’d picked up along the interstate.  Not only were they calmed by this point, they promised to take up a collection to see if they could help me buy a decent second-hand Cold War nuke.
     I think Kim was most proud, though, when Trump visited to congratulate me for invoking the spirit of “private enterprise.”  The Donald, as I recall, said over and over how this might put him on the History Channel as a hero, too.  His fondest hope, he said, was that my spirit of cooperation would spread.  Not only did Kim smile for the photographers as the prez rattled on, she took great pleasure in showing them my launch facility, which consists of my now sentient Dell (nicknamed “Dr. Strangelove”) linked to a shortwave radio in my greenhouse.  What’s more, I even overheard her discussing how my efforts might make Putin take a powder once the Ruskies confirmed what was going on.  At this point the VP interrupted to reward me with a canister of nerve gas, circa 1958, to enhance my arsenal.  The only stipulation was that I had to get a Doberman to protect it.  Naturally my neighbor Ed was so jealous by then that he swiped my Congressional Medal of Honor off the barbecue grill.
     Yet it was Kim’s ejection from the Garden Club that subtly renewed our rift.  It was all right while Bill Clinton was consoling her, but when everyone left in Avis Rental cars she had to deal with the ladies of our community, who hadn’t slept for days, and insisted that our beaches were being targeted by Cuban cruise ships for a toxic waste strike. . . “Castro oil,” they call it.
    Unfortunately for my defense, my missile would probably prove ineffective in a retaliatory strike because I’d estimated it would take three hours to launch it.  My problems were compounded when during the night Chuckles–my three month old Doberman–suffered a mysterious malady which left him paralyzed from the muzzle down.  I remember I called the White House that morning on the suspicion that my nerve gas was leaking and one of the aides there informed me Mad Dog Mattis was visiting Floyd Cramer, a plumber in Baton Rouge who’d successfully assembled a makeshift Cruise Missile out of galvanized pipe.  To make a long story short, I quickly dialed Scuba World and ordered a wet suit and air tank.  By nightfall I’d buried my leaky canister in a landfill outside of town, on top a’ which they didn’t plan to build a tenth Starbucks until January of 2018.  Soon breathing easier, I replaced the missing canister with a tank of laughing gas so no one would suspect.
     Ever since this incident Kim has been sleeping in the guest room.  Women have always been a mystery to me, and she’s no exception, Ms. Lonlihearts.  She won’t listen to me when I explain to her that I’m only doing this because Washington needs all the diversion it can get.  I’ve even tried to make her proud of me–my launch time is down to twenty-two minutes and my missile range is up to as far as Kanye West.  Nothing seems to work.  Do you have any suggestions for me?
                         Yours hopefully,
                         ‘At Wit’s End’        
        
  Dear “End,”
     I have no suggestions for you, but for our readers I suggest calling for our latest book, HOW TO TURN YOUR SWIMMING POOL INTO A BOMB SHELTER.  Operators are on duty . . . this may be your last call.    
                -0-

Culture

Word of the Day: MODESTY

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MODESTY:  An out of date modality, replaced by the Selfie, the viral Sex Tape, the Nip Slip, and the rise of reality TV, the NFL front office, Fox News, Goldman Sachs and other poster boys for AMERICAN GREED. Thanks to the new narcissism, the “modest” person is now considered a “loser” in need of coaching by “successful” sociopaths on how to fake emotions for pleasure and profit. The goal of perpetual adoration by worshipful masses is, in the end, usually thwarted, however, by 60 Minutes or Frontline reporters showing up with a list of questions for which they already know the answers.

hollywoodAn Alternate History Moment

Ryn Jacobs played short stop for the Yankees in 1948. He was a one season player who once hit a ball so hard it disintegrated in flight. . . not just ripping the cover off, but turning it to dust. (Every other time Ryn hit the ball he never made it to first base.) THE LEGEND OF RYN had been optioned by Fox for a feature film, centering on the controversy that day about whether a flake of dust on the glove of the pitcher constituted an Out or not. The History Channel also planned a special science docudrama on the event to replace a rerun about a swamp monster inhabiting Duck Dynasty’s man-made mud hole. And it all started when a screenwriter named R. Solomon fabricated a fake baseball card, using old stock and vintage ink sufficient to fool The History Detectives. He then pitched the film to studio executives, giving them the card, which was in a display album next to an authentic Mickey Mantle card. The ruse fell apart when a Yankees fan named Howard Ziffle, working at the Fox mailroom during casting for the movie, declared that no one named Ryn Jacobs ever played for the Yankees. Studio heads had R. Solomon arrested on the spot. When asked why they believed a mailroom clerk, even though Solomon had a flawlessly forged baseball card authenticated by Antiques Road Show to boot, (not to mention a History Channel film already in progress featuring J.J. Abrams as director), studio chief Bernie Wolfe replied, “You don’t know Ziffle.” Apparently, although Howard Ziffle can’t get out of the mailroom because he has no marketable skills, no one disputes his baseball expertise. “He can tell you who was traded for who, and for how much, going back to Prohibition. Not only does he know the shoe size of every player in Yankee history, but he can tell you what their lockers contained during any given season. I’m talking about a fan so obsessed that his incense candles are shaped like bats, which he dipped and shaped himself, adding the scent of catcher glove leather. Too bad he’ll be working at McDonalds next week. We’re automating our mail room, and I hear his expertise doesn’t translate into anything but flipping burgers, being nothing unusual among rabid fans.” Fox is going ahead with the movie, as is The History Detectives. As for R. Solomon, he will be replaced by in-house screenwriters related to the studio heads, even as he spins tales in the Big House and (no doubt) tries to craft a gun out of soap.
IN OTHER McNEWS: We interrupt this nonsense with even more important news about sports. Neanderthals Still Alive! Human species thought to have gone extinct are actually still alive and kicking. . . footballs. That’s right: NFL teams are comprised of the descendants of Neanderthals, who possess the Eat or Be Eaten “sporting” gene. (Note: originally, being a “good sport” meant “tastes good.”) According to Dr. Neils Zahorsky of Cal Tech, only those schools without winning sports teams have homo sapien ancestors. (Cal Tech basketball lost 310 games in a row, and so was penalized by the NCAA for “academic infractions,” including 32 Nobel Prizes.) Everyone else descends from the newly discovered Nikeinus, who made up the Neanderthal fan base for various knuckle-dragging skull bowling competitions, using the heads of homo sapiens. . . whose bodies were roasted in prehistoric tailgate parties (thrown in the trunks of open flying saucers, silverware provided by Ancient Astronuts.) “The DNA and NCAA evidence doesn’t lie, although your biology textbooks do,” says Dr. Zahorsky, adding, “It is vitally important that these new findings be updated so that students will be unable to sell their old textbooks next year. In business parlance, as in other Neanderthal-dominated blood sports, such as war, it is necessary to crush the competition in a balls-to-the-wall display of egoic delusion so crippling and overwhelming in terms of “shock and awe” that it never reaches a nuking sudden death overtime. Thals did this by following their playbook, written in stone, as Nikeinus watched and munched on the junk DNA of those pacifist, vegetarian ‘win-win’ nerds who deserved to be eaten alive anyway.”

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Iron Chef Secret Ingredient: IRON?

CookingCute memes and funny posts get many likes and views. But people reading them have little time left to learn something they should really know….and are not being told, due to the news media having a disincentive to tell (advertising revenue.) Did you know that iron “fortified” cereals and excessive meat consumption causes Alzheimers and Parkinsons? Only in America do they add iron to all flour products, and the cumulative dosage is toxic. In countries like Italy they do not add iron to flour, and they have less dementia. (And lower health care costs.) Author to correlate the studies is a genetics scientist at Harvard. https://youtu.be/v8Wjy1fP6vM

McDonaldsOrder THE MIND SPAN DIET by clicking on the correct grave above.

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