Obama was right.
Even more true now.
Sam, admit you were wrong, then help get money out of politics.
No fan of Trump or conspiracy theories, but could Comey’s firing be a grand plan of the GOP establishment to get rid of Trump and make Pence the president, thereby saving themselves from a midterm drubbing?
If you don’t find this funny, or if you find it annoying, then you are part of the prediscursive cisproblem.
This morning Brandi Carlile’s “Beginning to Feel the Years” came to the top of my iTunes shuffled “All Songs” playlist. I instantly knew I wanted to post the song with a few loving words about my husband Danny. So I searched for a video. In the process, I went on a little YouTube sidebar binge, watching other Brandi Carlile videos, including her Late Show with David Letterman performance of “Keep on the Sunny Side” with The Avett Brothers
For this post, I had intended to briefly mention the 10-year anniversary of the Two Spoons world premiere in St. Petersburg, Florida, include a couple of pictures from the production, then hit publish. But as I continued writing, it became clear I had more to say, some demons to exorcise. And then the stream of consciousness, or subconsciousness, made me think about some of my experiences as a writer and producer. Below is the result.
Ten years ago, the first production of my play, Two Spoons, was produced by Gypsy Productions at the Suncoast Theatre in St. Petersburg, Florida. I had originally submitted a different play, Andrew Reaches the Other Side, to Gypsy a year earlier. Since Gypsy produced gay-themed plays, and the lead character in Andrew was a gay Buccaneers fan, I thought the play would go over well in the Tampa/St. Pete area.
As I gear up for another Rookies softball season, here’s a flashback photo from Little League baseball in 1979. I wish this scrawny kid knew he’d meet a terrific bunch of guys in 1997 and play ball with them for over 21 seasons.
8-year-old Aiden Miller recounted an extremely vivid near-death experience Friday that reportedly contained detailed descriptions of heaven, angels, and a six-figure book deal. “I was walking up in the clouds and met friends, and strangers, and all these famous people who talked with me about all kinds of things and brought up the possibility of selling the rights to my story to a big-name publisher…”
Then he met the angel of Patrick Henry who said, “Give me publishing or give me death.” And Jesus responded, “What’s the difference?”
It happened on a Sunday in early 1997. Because of Bergen County’s blue laws that kept most stores closed, I had driven down to Wayne, NJ, to shop for some new music. I’d been going to Willowbrook Mall and the other area shops around Wayne for as long as I could remember. As a kid, my neighbor’s mom would take her two sons, my brother, Matt, and I—with our pockets full of quarters—to the video game arcade at the mall. Years later, while I attended nearby Montclair State College, I would often go with friends to eat, shop, hangout, or sing karaoke in a basement bar of one of the restaurants (Casey O’Tooles?).
But that Sunday in 1997, I had gone by myself to The Wiz (an electronics and music store near Willowbrook, but not in the mall) to search the rows of CDs for something new. At the end of one of those rows was a special display, a rack of CDs featuring local artists. And that’s when Fountains of Wayne’s self-titled debut album caught my eye.
Trump is nothing but 100% pure projection.
When a person projects, they tend to fervently accuse others of traits, flaws, and issues that are really about themselves. It is blame shifting. Trump and his propaganda machine (including feckless Republicans) have mastered this primitive defense mechanism and elevated it to a sickening art form.
Hillary is crooked = I am crooked.
She is corrupt = I am corrupt.
The Clintons are criminals = I am a criminal.
Rosie is a pig = I am a pig.
The election is rigged = I am rigging it.
Obama is sick = I am sick.
The media is the enemy of the people = I am the enemy the people.
Anything he labels or calls a disaster = I am a disaster.
Almost every time he opens his mouth to criticize someone else, he is actually talking about himself.