DotTeeVee: You Can't Stump the Trump (Volume 4)

Ordinarily this is a somewhat frivolous endeavor, chronicling amusing but largely unimportant topics like sovereign citizens battling police tyranny, human resource betrayal and why watching someone else remotely play a video game represents a major step forward in the field of time homicide. Not so today, as what we're about to experience is truly time capsule material, the kind of thing that defines an era and a generation, a "where were you" type moment that will be seared into your cortex like an "X" into the buttocks of a freshly lassoed bullock. We've got our next president and our next refreshing generation coming together and yes, there will be dubstep.

This panel of Republican hopefuls continues to the right for another four hundred feet.

We hit the ground running with footage from the first Republican debate, back when there were about seventy candidates each vying for a chance to lose in the general election and also this guy from reality television who probably will fizzle out any moment now, unlike this legion of Mitt Romney impersonators. Like any good video we open with narration from some public domain nature film, the sort of thing that might be on your TeeVee when you start doing the wild thing during the late show and the channel changer gets trapped beneath the love-making and flicks its way into the high 800s.

The New York businessman, golf course owner and right-wing extremist gestures broadly as the narration compares him to a certain kind of centipede noted for its alacrity and ability to inject poison into other, lesser, venomous vermin. Maybe not the heroic comparison I would have gone for, but on the other hand who wouldn't vote for someone capable of injecting paralyzing venom into the enemies of our freedoms?

Hope and change.

Scary music plays as the camera closes is on the Main Man and it's time to begin the stumpings. Dubstep plays as Rand Paul gets his lunch eaten by the 133rd richest man in the world. Money falls from the sky as a reporter gets the deportation treatment, a shopped in sniper rifle blasts the Univision employee and I realize that I've finally discovered something created by a person under the age of 30 that can be completely enjoyed, without any of the usual reservations. A quick Rosie O'Donnell diss and it's time for a title card. Let's go.

There's some CNN graphics for the second debate, while simulated narcotic use it also presented, I guess as some sort of ironic counterpoint. I'm getting "baked" but watching something that's nominally "serious." That's some solid commentary on our system, right there. 

There you go again.

Donald Trump introduces himself and describes his achievements and if it wasn't for another "raining money" effect it would be almost like a conventional political commercial, free of drug abuse, killer centipede references and catchy electronic dance music. No thanks, in other words. Fortunately, it's right back to bagging on Rand Paul and his low poll numbers. The Kentucky Senator who is often asked "Are you really still running for President?" offers a feeble counter, complaining about attacks on his appearance. Naturally this leads to height jokes and the old "I never attacked him, but easily could," feigned moral high ground. Rand Paul, officially stumped.

"I ain't votin' for no manlet!"

The narrator informs us it's now "Jeb Cuck Time" as if there was a single viewer who didn't know, and offers a chance to drop seventy-five Washingtons on the Jeb Guaca Bowl. Something tells me the person or persons behind this video prefer a very different kind of bowl. This somehow segues into a discussion of wealthy donors and how it impacts our political system and how the other Bush kid wouldn't let Trump open a casino in Florida, a charge the hotel owner denies. Both men then argue over this hypothetical gambling venture as if it were a key issue, culminating with some Grand Theft Auto graphics. 

Less than 5% in the polls, Game Over.

Despite this crushing victory, it's right back to more bickering and interruptions. The big payoff this time is Jeb gets called out on finally showing some energy, cue air horn, nuclear fall-out countdown, the sniper rifle and more "centipede" themed South London club music. Could these outrageous effects have made the Democrat debate watchable? Well, no, but the fact that I even considered the possibility is a testimony to the greatness unspooling itself here in "cuck time."

One final argument between Jeb and Trump reaches a critical moment when Florida Bush offers The Don a chance to apologize for some of his more controversial statements. If you can't predict the outcome of this offer you obviously weren't following the Presidential race this summer, possibly hitting a beach or being with loved ones or some other waste of time. Naturally, as the video puts it, the brother of W is "Blown the [fudge] out."

Believe it or not, there's more. A wild shill has appeared, complete with Pokemon music. Yes, it's that Jeb Bush staffer here to call out our next President on his failure to be a "Friend to woman (sic)." Already stumped by basic grammar, not looking good. It's hard to believe but this goofy nonsense was national news for a short while, before being tossed on the same pile as Trump is gonna give amnesty, someone said a racial slur at a Trump event, the hair might not be real, here's a made-up quote where Trump insults the American voter and all the other non-events that have slid off the teflon surface of a man who is, by the way, great on women's health.

Speaking of which, Trump mentions that he's great on women's health and also really good at getting tenses right when delivering spoken English. Our young lady plant isn't done though, demanding the same pay and the ability to control the body or something. Repeating these tired talking points earns some half-hearted "wooing" from the crowd and it looks bad for our hero. A song about "spooky skeletons" helps really emphasize the gravitas of the situation.

"You're gonna make the same if you do as good a job." Air horn, gun, oh my [fudging] God, dubstep, etc. I don't know what else I can say. Imagine the best possible orgasm, multiply it by a thousand and you're still nowhere near it.

Drug references, hashtags and gun violence, a potent combination.

We end with a possible Illuminati sighting and some Disney music, but by this point I was lying face down on the floor with a smile carved into my face that might need to be sand-blasted off.

You Can't Stump the Trump (Volume 4)

Komment Korner   

If I included all of the stumpings, the video would probably end up pushing the 15+ minute mark.

Yo im about to vote for Trump because of this.

Strong man who will work with Wladimir Putin to keep safe the world.

Literally the greatest man to ever live.

are you suggesting he cannot be stumped?


Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

News You Can't Use: Billionaires Shrug Off Volatile Markets for Art Shopping Spree

It's very important that we keep track of and cater to the whims of our billionaires, the wise and noble success stories that work tirelessly for our common good. Whether it's destabilizing some sand box or trying to get more people on narcotics you can rest assured that Uncle Ten Figure has your best interests at heart. But what of their own activities, the life we are told should be the focus of all of our combined envy and admiration? As it turns out various problems hitting the prole sector don't seem to be stopping the art shopping sprees and by art, of course, I mean total and complete garbage.

Art dealer David Kordansky checked his wristwatch nervously. It was 45 minutes into the opening of the Frieze Art Fair and his booth, with large abstract paintings intersected with neon light tubes by Mary Weatherford, was mostly empty.

Nice to see the Solyndra remains are still a money sink for limousine liberals. Or would be, if they'd just show up. Where are you, guy that bet against our currency, got rich, and now indulges his bad taste? Come on marks patrons, get up in this sucker. Maybe I should check that watch again, possibly while displaying the signs of anxiety. Should help.

“I am waiting for the individuals these paintings are on reserve for to show up,” Kordansky said on Tuesday, tapping his timepiece. “Is there a line outside?”

Please tell the unindicted White collar criminals are out there. I'm dying here, man. 

Kordansky didn’t need to worry. Neither the 15-minute line snaking through the fair’s Regent’s Park location nor the roiling financial markets could deter the international jet set from its annual art shopping spree in London.

Wow, what a relief that news is. Now that this real issue has been settled we can focus on minor distractions like how the power just got cut off.

The displayed five paintings by Weatherford sold at the VIP preview, with prices ranging from $120,000 to $220,000.

"You think people will pay that ridiculous price?"

"I only need one."

Billionaire Eli Broad, jeweller Laurence Graff, heiress Nicky Hilton Rothschild and actor Benedict Cumberbatch joined the throngs of established and wannabe collectors who descended on Frieze and its nearby sister fair, Frieze Masters, on this crisp October day.

I suggest you skip Frieze Masters which is full of industrialists, politicians, heiresses that received less than a billion dollars and other commoner scum.

Broad, who navigated the aisles in a wheelchair following back surgery, said he was cautious about the financial markets and bullish about the art market.

All that worthless money we keep printing has to end up somewhere, right?

“The art market is very strong. You’d think there are no troubles anywhere in the world.”

It's almost like the obscenely wealthy live in this fantasy world insulated from reality, but we all know that's not true. Soros wants you blowing dope and living in debt, he obviously has the common touch."

Once I explain the Marxist symbolism behind this ugly monstrosity you'll want to buy.

Established in 2003, Frieze has become one of the world’s leading art fairs, competing with Art Basel and expanding geographically with a Frieze New York edition in May. 

I'm sure we're not telling you anything you didn't already know.

“Sold,” Timothy Blum, co-owner of Blum and Poe, based in Los Angeles, Tokyo and New York, kept telling clients inquiring about a $600,000 painting by Yoshitomo Nara. The gallery also placed a new painting by Takashi Murakami for $1 million.

I don't even like it. I just wanted to acquire it to prove I could and to stave off the inner emptiness.

“It’s a very safe place to go,” said Marianne Boesky. “You are buying quality, not something untested.”

None of this art made of pudding that rapidly decays, not here, no sir.

Full Article.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

News You Can't Use: Homeless Florida Man Brings Skull to Grocery Store

With Halloween just around the corner and down the temporal street that ultimately leads to dark and hateful oblivion it's time for some real life scary stories. Or at least a real life "I can't believe how awful and pathetic everything is" story, which is what the so-called real world tends to create rather than PG-13 thrill rides about evil dolls and evil clowns and evil dolls that are clown-dolls. Still, today's story manages to take highly unusual events and present them in the most banal "oh well" fashion, so at least there's that. If we can't have sincere scares at least we can be proudly desensitized to hometown horrors.

Shoppers at a Sebastian, Florida, Publix grocery store called 911 when they saw a homeless man walking around with a human skull, authorities said.

More "Publix" snobs, people who think they're too good for "Everything's Cheap and Rotten" or "ALDI." All it takes is a dangerous human derelict and his macabre fashion accessories and everyone's using their little glow screens to call in the five-oh.

"He had put the skull on top of a trash can over there because he wanted to tell somebody to call the sheriff's office," said Indian River County Sheriff’s Office spokesman Thomas Raulen. 

That's how that works. If you need police assistance, go to some lower tier food depository and set the item of concern or a reasonable facsimile on the ash can. Society's nice and healthy, nothing about this is unusual, please resume your shopping for Dinnerables and assorted swine parts.

The unidentified homeless man found human remains in an isolated area near the homeless camps and brought it to the Publix to report the body on Tuesday.

This one time...at homeless camp... I also like how there's more than one and it's just accepted with "oh well" resignation. Not our problem 'til they start with the skullin', I suppose.

“He was using it as a puppet," witness Nick Pecoraro told WPBF News. "It smelled like death.”

We'll just leave out these bizarre and sickening details when we make the police report, because it's easier that way.

Can we just do more common core math instead?

Raulen said that it was unlikely that the victim had been decapitated, but that the body was too deteriorated to tell much information about the victim. 

I don't know anything, but I'll still offer lame speculation for no good reason.

Full Story.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

News You Can't Use: College Bro Arrested Over Mac-and-Cheese Rant at Food Court

Hey brahs, let me aware you on the latest jimmy rustling events from the poverty level four year debt center. It turns out the non-lifting, untanned normals in charge don't take kindly to open alcohol containers or physical attacks, which probably proves some sort of point about the decline of society but I'm midway through the second 40 ounce so maybe ask someone else. In any case, try to stay safe as we examine this case of an attempt to acquire proteins gone horribly wrong. Das not it, mang.

University of Connecticut student got into a confrontation with a campus food court manager who wouldn’t let him buy macaroni and cheese with bacon and jalapeño peppers, and was arrested.

Another defeat for the free market. "Let me get this mac n' whatever, dudemar." "We're a state-funded university. We already got your tax dollars, bud."

An obscenity-laced video shows 19-year-old freshman Luke Gatti arguing with and shoving the manager on Sunday.

Every generation gets the version of the Great Debate that it deserves.

Police and the manager say he was refused service because he had an open alcohol container.

Yup, that's a college student all right. I guess we could just use our own discretion and make the sale anyway, but the principle of the thing is worth creating the 2015 answer to a Ritz Brothers movie.

The nine-minute video shows Gatti being tackled by another employee, being arrested by police and spitting at the manager before being led away.

No matter what you like, chances are this "bro" has it. Enjoy open containers in public? No problem. Customer service and unrestricted commerce? Aw, yeah. Fluckie football and gestapoism? This is America, remember?

Bench, squat and dead is what does.

He’s charged with breach of peace and criminal trespass. 

College really is a rich learning experience. Now you can experience being a nuisance to our legal system.

He hasn’t returned a phone call seeking comment.

Fast misc.

Full Story.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

Which Way Books #4: Famous and Rich

I can't stop reading Which Way Books. Honestly, what's not to like? The stories are threadbare and utilitarian, the low expectations coming in make the moments of glorious competence shine even brighter and there's a very pleasant lack of self-awareness and fourth wall (third page???) breaking. Sure, I'll probably get back into the always reliable late-early Choose Your Own Adventure offerings very soon, but for now it's time to live the American dream of filthy lucre and all eyes on me via the highly satisfying medium of barely serviceable text from 1982 practically dancing on badly yellowed pages.

How about some unrealistic life expectations?

I have to concede that the usually brilliant Which Way opening is sadly deficient in this one. Instead of poor TeeVee reception, magic birds or horrible movies coming to life the high concept here is that some older gentleman moves into the house next door. Since it's the eighties and I don't have to check a phone every fifteen seconds or take lots of arm-length photos of myself I go over to talk, something people used to do. We have this lengthy conversation that, fortunately, is brutally summarized down to "talking 'bout dreams and stuff" and suddenly my new best friend wants to know about my future goals. "To be famous and rich!" Roll credits?

Instead there's some red diaper talk about how ambitions often come at a heavy cost and money can't buy a beautiful sunset and general "You've got to LIVE every day, man!" bullshit that we're all sick of hearing. My pragmatic response is the only way I can determine if power does, indeed, corrupt is by being handed the joystick of wealth and glory. Naturally this leads to mumbling and quivering, because this guy is some sort of wish-granting plot contrivance.

Can we get that lengthy conventional war, with mandatory draft, going soon? Please?

Because it's Which Way there's the usual triple choice of things that are very loosely related to the core conceit that's been so expertly established, specifically three occupations that allegedly deliver the chedda and that sweet envy and hatred of the faceless masses. One is movie star, which is fine, but the other two are a mess. Explorer? Maybe in the 19th century, old-timer. Detective? Sure, that's a sure route to big money and we all know the more notoriety you have the more effective you would be. Notably absent are more believable options like air-headed nepotism case who "accidentally" releases home-made pornography into the public domain or son of already wealthy parents who becomes obscenely wealthy via monetary voodoo.

Fine, I'll take explorer.

We makin' Cartier coin.

Instead of swimming in portfolios or being worshiped by life's extras I'm right in the middle of an adventure, one that involves a light aircraft. Get your lawyers on the phone, R.A. Montgomery. I'm on the cover of "Time" magazine, which seems an odd choice when there's National Pornographic, but I guess there was a time when they might have covered global exploration before they lost all relevancy and went off the Cultural Marxist deep-end. No time to dwell on that, the plane's engines are on fire. It's famous and rich, not famous and fastidious about pre-flight check-ups, after all.

I jump out, hit the water, deploy a raft and note an island about 25 miles away, all in rapid fire prose. Hey, we're not being paid by the hour, here. I'm given the choice to retrieve the floating parachute, but instead decide to paddle toward the island, nice and secure in my new wussy and impractical mode of travel. Many miles of rowing against ocean currents, no problem.

This raft is superior to other rafts in every possible way.

After much rowing I'm confronted by a "mammoth bed of seaweed" blocking the path to the island. No, not water dope! Faced with this daunting obstacle I decide to soldier on and incredibly just float right through the wet green to the beach. Just as I think I'm in the clear I hear barking and a family of sea lions is swimming toward my raft. First waterlogged crops and now ocean dogs. You're gonna have to do better than that, nature. 

As you might expect, the pets of Davey Jones are more about goofy playful cavorting than devouring the flesh of a guy that did a magazine cover when that feat still had cultural relevance. Just as I hit the shore, though, a "bull" sea lion, the pack alpha I would assume, is running up on me in a "vengeful rage." Faced with this, I'm given two different coward options instead of some righteous "last good fight" battle with the playful clowns of the sea. Also, what does this have to do with being famous or rich? I've got nothing but a raft and paddle to my name and I'm running and hiding from a Sea World warm-up act. Gah.

Not exactly the most intimidating enemy.

So I run away with the goofy nemesis hot on my heels, barking happily and slapping its flippers together in anticipation of devouring flesh and washing it down with warm blood. Then I blunder into quicksand. The world's greatest explorer, ladies and gentleman, punked out by an animal know for its goofy clapping and working wacky horns and now I'm sinking into wet earth. Fortunately, both myself and the author remember that so-called "quicksand" is just really muddy water and you can float and swim in it, so that's what I do. After getting out, a rescue party is there to bail my pathetic ass out before I get attacked by panda bears or get trapped in pussy willows or whatever other humiliating event that could top what already happened occurs. 

Plus, they know who I am because I'm famous. The End. Good grief.

 Don't you hate it when there's no bamboo or you're shot to make Chinese medicine?

This one was pretty bad. How did I become a famous explorer when I'm so completely inept? Why am I exploring an island that a "rescue party" can easily access? How come the story-line I got had nothing to do with the thin reed setting up the action. I'll give a point for correct understanding of quicksand, but that's all this one is getting. Yeah, I'm going back to Choose Your Own Adventure next time.

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

News You Can't Use: How 40,000 'Women' on Ashley Madison Shared Just Six Email Addresses

It's impossible to cheat an honest man and almost as difficult to cheat one that can control his post-marriage horny levels. Luckily, it appears that neither one of those categories represent a significant percentage of the male population, so we get the most obvious and embarrassing scams succeeding beyond even the wildest expectations of their scumbag creators. When you have a brain and a penis, but not enough blood to use them both at once, it's perhaps forgivable that you thought KinkyYoungLuVKittAN301848484 was a real person genuinely interested in joining you for role-playing, adult baby and generally being the two bits on the side. Sadly, it appears that much like winning those Irish lotteries and becoming Nigerian royalty it's just another shuck.

A data scientist has uncovered what he says is proof that Ashley Madison created tens of thousands of fake accounts to dupe members into paying for its services, in a scheme that would have almost doubled the website's revenue.

Yes, we needed a "data scientist" (That's the best kind!) to figure out that this online sword fight wasn't completely on the level when it came to attractive low virtue married women. And it doubled the revenue! You hear that 1-900 meet-up line that advertises during pro wrestling at 1 in the morning? That's the way you do it.

According to statistics seen by Daily Mail Online, 40,000 profiles were set up on the affair site using just six email addresses owned by the website's operators on two separate days.

This was someone's job. "I want you to create 40,000 profiles, all full of unique and believable content, in the next two days. Don't worry, after that's done you're on easy street as the dirtbag in a sexually unfulfilling marriage coin pours in."

It follows claims in previous reports that the extra-marital dating network tried to hide around 100,000 of these so-called 'engager' profiles – sometimes referred to as Ashley Angels - from users, so they believed they were talking to real people.

I just paid for five minutes of simulated infidelity with a profile created by a sixty year old man and using old pictures of Jenny McCarthy. I deserve the worst and, apparently, am going to get it.

If true, this means the real number of 'available' women was drastically reduced, while the website's monthly revenue was almost doubled by the 'engagers', as members have to pay to read their online messages.

Number science has estimated the amount of so-called "real" women at 0, with a small margin for error.

Out of 32million members before the website was hacked, 26.5million were men and just 5.5million women.

It's so exciting see my two favorite things, sleaze and statistical demographics, coming together in such a wonderful and unexpected fashion.

Around 700,000 of these women are said to have been looking for lesbian affairs.

So me no launch pocket rocket, ugh, ugh.

Therefore, if the 100,000 'fembots' are included, there would have been only 4.7million women looking for extramarital relationships with men.

These are not the good kind of "fembots" like in West World.

Jeremy Bullock, the chief data scientist at a UK-based technology firm, said he was suspicious of Ashley Madison’s recruitment methods, so searched through the data released by hackers last month looking for anomalies.

I was just doing "research!" Honest!

Looking closely at the data, he found only six email addresses had been used to generate a total of around 40,000 'fake' women. One of these was host@almlabs – another IP address owned by Avid Life Media. 

I'd call this an outrage, but if you voluntarily entered this pit of spiritual sludge you deserved whatever happened.

He added: ‘I believe that this data shows that despite Ashley Madison’s protestations to the contrary, member generation was going on at a industrial scale and that there is a clear trail of evidence leading back to the company.’ 

We must put a stop to the simulated adultery fembot industrial complex.

My unbelievable wit and charm will impress all the robot ladies!

According to documents seen by Daily Mail Online they received generic messages such as 'are you online' to create the illusion a woman was trying to start a conversation with them.

Yeah, that's how women talk all right.

This means some members supposedly paid up to $290 to interact with someone who didn’t actually exist.

Nearly one-third large to be asked about your "online" status by a bot. Our government gets better deals on hammers and light bulbs.

This has prompted two lawsuits in California and Maryland by men who think they were deliberately deceived.  

"I just wanted to engage in illicit activity like any good American. Give me money." When bad things happen to bad people we need a legal remedy.

Ashley Madison, which has denied creating the bots, has failed to respond to numerous requests from Daily Mail Online for comment.  

Admit nothing, refuse all interview requests, hide from view...is this a online smut merchant or the Hillary Clinton campaign?

One of the accounts, under the name Sensuous Kitten, was listed as the 11th member of Ashley Madison.

Seems legit.

Full Story.

Komment Korner  

So that fashion model who liked football and who owned a pub was fake?

Men are so dumb

Yeah. I went on a date with an Ashley Madison affair-woman. I became suspicious of their business model when I got to the restaurant and all there was at my table was a life sized cardboard cutout of a woman. She was lovely, but her personality was so flat that I didn't even take her home with me. I cancelled my membership the next morning.

It amazes me that more people haven't figured out that we live in the Age of the Scam.

WELL, Now we KNOW what kind of BOTS they are - we are just negotiating PRICE!

Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.

News You Can't Use: Billionaire Steyer Calls for More Democratic Debates

Great news everyone, Rich Uncle Pennybags has noticed that zero Democrat debates have occurred and he wants more. The even better news, if that first sentence didn't already get you into a lather, is that this should be no problem since, if you want to get super technical, it would be impossible to have fewer debates than the current goose egg. And who doesn't love a good argument between the heir presumptive and some elderly sixties leftovers? Yes, as usual a billionaire who did some sort of capital management that you wouldn't understand and would be appalled and enraged if you did has shown us all the way.

Billionaire Democratic donor Tom Steyer on Friday afternoon called on the party to add another debate focused on climate change and clean energy, adding his voice to a pitched disagreement over the number of Democratic debates.

Yeah, that would be exciting, watching everyone agree that climate change is real and we need more clean energy. Who can shout the affirmative the loudest, this is the big test before we hand you the reigns of the world's only remaining Super Power.

Wait, we got downgraded from that? Something, huge debts, something, China? Oh, never mind then.

Steyer, an environmentalist who is one of the party’s major financiers and who already hosted a fundraiser for Hillary Clinton, said he wants the debate to occur before the Iowa caucuses in February.

Is his support for one of the candidates a conflict of interest or have we all stop carrying about "rules?"

“Since the candidates — and the Democratic Party — understand that climate change is our greatest threat, they must allow voters the opportunity to hear a thoughtful and robust discussion — not just a single question — about their plans to solve this issue,”reads the release put out by Steyer’s group, NextGen Climate.

Several thrilling hours of agreeing on everything but ultimately meaningless minutia and discussing wind farms, bicycling everywhere, solar power success stories like Solyndra...good seats still available. 

But the DNC showed no willingness to budge on Friday, instead suggesting that Steyer could host a candidate forum, not a debate.

You can do an autograph session and maybe some gimmick tables but nobody wants a thoughtful and robust discussion of anything, let alone alternate energy and eliminating the flush toilet and automobile for anyone with a net worth less than $1,000,000,000.

Bernie Sanders has also urged the DNC to add more debates, while Clinton — who Steyer has not formally endorsed — has simply said she is open to participating in more.

As long as they don't conflict with the court dates, of course.

Later I'll show you this clock I took apart.

Steyer, whose wallet would be significant to any presidential candidate, recently praised Clinton over her opposition of the Keystone XL pipeline. 

We want your wallet, not your wet-brain single issue fixations.

The first Democratic debate is currently set for October 13 in Las Vegas.

What happens in Las Vegas stays in Las Vegas, hopefully. 

Full Article.

Komment Korner  

How can one be so, so rich and yet so, so stupid? 

I've­­­­­ made ­­­­­$84,000­­­­­ so­­­­­ far­­­­­ this­­­­­ year­­­­­ working­­­­­ online­­­­­

go back to china, Uzbekistan, or wherever you are...

Sanders isn't a socialist. He's a democratic socialist. 

I'd like to see Hillary and the ancient commie go at each other with whips and cattle prods.


Aaron Zehner is the author of "The Foolchild Invention" available in paperback and e-book format. Read free excerpts here and here.