With credit to a great sportswriter named Jimmy Cannon, who first wrote a “Nobody Asked Me, But” column . . .
Nobody asked me, but . . .
I bow to no one in my dislike of Donald Trump and his idiotic policies.
However, and this is a big HOWEVER:
Am I nuts in thinking that for nearly seven years the little fat kid from North Korea has been testing nuclear weapons and rattling sabers and threatening to kill us all?
So, Trump, showing that he’s just as crazy as Kim Jong-un, has somehow pulled off a coup and has met with Kim Jong-un. He had a friendly lunch with the little twerp and made some sort of peace with him.
They each issued a cockamamie proclamation, which may or may not mean anything. But we have gone from threats of war to a feeling that we just might work together.
So how has The New York Times, CNN, and the rest of the media treated this?
They’ve made light of the meeting, with headlines saying this was a great big non-event and a waste of time; with “analyses” that Trump had been made a fool of by Kim Jong-un; with liberal pundits harrumphing that the fat kid got us to stop our “war games” with South Korea — as if the pundits ever gave a fig about war games anywhere, and with a general derision of the process, which makes his critics appear to want to go back to the good old days when we were about to annihilate each other.
This is not fair. It’s false and it’s no way to treat the millions of people who rely on the media to tell them what and how to think.
So, I propose a new way to handle any events where the media’s hatred of Trump gets in the way of their telling the truth.
It’s a simple test.
In the future, before writing a word or saying a word on television, why don’t they ask themselves this question?
HOW WOULD I HAVE FELT AND REPORTED THIS IF OBAMA HAD DONE IT?
If Donald Trump gets us into a war with Canada, I’m on Canada’s side. I’m ready to run guns, bombs, hockey sticks to Canada — anything it takes to help them win.
May Donald Trump and his evil elf attorney general burn in hell forever for taking little children from their parents in an attempt to blackmail this country into giving them a wall between Mexico and the United States.
This comes out of the column I wrote last week about cell phone madness:
We need a new holiday.
Call it DID Day.
Close schools . . . close businesses . . . give everyone a three-day holiday.
What does DID stand for?
It stands for Dead Idiot Day. A day when we honor all these idiots who died because they crossed the street with their cell phones on their ears and paid no attention to traffic. These are people whose last sight on Earth was the screen on their iPhones. People whose last words were, “I just saw a wonderful pair of shoes, they had these cute little bows . . .” or “Did you see that play Judge made in the Yankees game last night?”
To these people, these were important thoughts that had to be said immediately — thoughts that couldn’t wait until they got to the safety of a sidewalk. So, they died. The least we can do is honor those dead idiots with a holiday for all of us to enjoy.
Tell me this isn’t the fastest spring/summer of your life. I admit I’m a downer and I start my end-of-summer countdown when the Kentucky Derby is over. But for crying out loud, Memorial Day shot by like a flash. There’s been one rainy bleak day every weekend in this so-called spring. The Fourth of July is just a few weeks away. In a few minutes, the stores will begin their back-to-school ads.
And don’t tell me that September is the best month of the year in the Hamptons. September is to winter what May is to summer. September is f*ing September. It’s when you have to go back to school.
If you want to read a good mystery in what’s left of this summer, read Chris Bohjalian’s The Flight Attendant, a novel featuring a promiscuous flight attendant named Cassie who wakes up one morning in a hotel in Dubai next to a dead hedge fund manager, the victim of a grisly murder. Promiscuous flight attendants and dead hedge fund managers — who can ask for anything more?
Want to do a nice thing? Call BookHampton in East Hampton or Harbor Books in Sag Harbor and order The Flight Attendant and a few other books. Then you’ll have the satisfaction of reading a good book while supporting one of our great local bookstores.
What follows is a joke that made me laugh, which I’ve printed in this column before. The truth is, it is not a politically correct joke. But then again, I’m not a politically correct guy. If you are politically correct, stop reading this column now. In fact, if you’re politically correct, what the hell are you doing reading this column any time? Go fret and wring your hands someplace else.
And now the joke:
ITALIAN VIRGINITY TEST
Mario is planning to marry and asks his family doctor how he could tell if his bride-to-be is still a virgin.
His doctor says, “Mario, all the Italian men I know use three things for what we call a ‘Do-It-Yourself Virginity Test Kit’: a small can of red paint, a small can of blue paint, and a shovel.”
Mario asks, “And what do I do with these things, doc?”
The doctor replies, “Before you climb into bed on your wedding night, you paint one of your balls red and the other ball blue.
“If she says, ‘That’s the strangest pair of balls I’ve ever seen,’ . . . you hit her with the shovel!”
Finally, NOBODY ASKED ME, BUT . . . HAVE A GREAT REST OF THIS SO-CALLED SUMMER. STAY SAFE.
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