Tag Archives: political humor

The Devil’s Dictionary: “Un-American and Understanding”

In our continuing quest to revisit a classic, or even a curiosity from the past and see how relevant it is, we continue with The Devil’s Dictionary by Ambrose Bierce. Originally published in newspaper installments from 1881 until 1906. You might be surprised how current many of the entries are.

A young Ambrose Bierce

A young Ambrose Bierce

For example, here is a definition for the words Un-American and Understanding. The Old definitions are Bierce’s. The New definitions are, in many cases, updates. Sometimes little change is needed. Sometimes more. From time to time, just as it was originally published, we will come back to The Devil’s Dictionary, for a look at it then and how it applies today. Click on Devil’s Dictionary in the tags below to bring up the other entries.

OLD DEFINITION
Un-American, adj. Wicked, intolerable, heathenish.

Understanding, n. A cerebral secretion that enables one having it to know a house from a horse by the roof on the house. Its nature and laws have been exhaustively expounded by Locke, who rode a house, and Kant, who lived in a horse.

His understanding was so keen
That all things which he’d felt, heard, seen,
He could interpret without fail
If he was in or out of jail.
He wrote at Inspiration’s call
Deep disquisitions on them all,
Then, pent at last in an asylum,
Performed the service to compile ’em.
So great a writer, all men swore,
They never had not read before.
—Jorrock Wormley

NEW DEFINITION
Un-American, adj. Wicked, intolerable, heathenish.

Example, the rest of the world and the Democratic Party as defined by Faux News.

Example, anything the other politician stands for, even if it’s very much like what the accuser stands for.

Example, anything that requires understanding, or as one politician recently said, “big syllable words.”

Understanding, n. See Un-American.

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The blathering idiot and powder

The blathering idiot and Lydia were sitting in an Italian restaurant having dinner, discussing politics, or partly discussing politics.

“You know, I really don’t know much about you,” Lydia said, waving a breadstick at him.

“Even after the last campaign.”

“And I did not know you had a daughter,” the blathering idiot said. “Does she like politics?”

“People don’t like politics these days. They just endure it.”

“Like you do?”

“I like it. It’s what gets me going in the morning. What gets you going?”

“My alarm clock,” the blathering idiot said.

“You don’t say much.”

“I say enough.”

“Maybe that can work to our advantage. The Pro-Accordion Party could say it all with music.”

The blathering idiot nodded. He liked the way her face lit up when she thought she had a good idea.

The waiter brought the food and a new basket of breadsticks. He also refilled the water glasses. The blathering idiots had a slice of lemon in it; Lydia’s did not.

“You do play the accordion, don’t you?”

The blathering idiot frowned. She had forgotten since the last election for the highest office in the land. He had told her then he didn’t play the accordion or any other instrument. Since then, he had not learned how. He never expected to be considering running again. The first time was not nearly as much fun as Lydia seemed to remember it being.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” the blathering idiot said.

“She will not be coming with us on the campaign trail.”

“But the consultant—”

“The consultant can go to hell. She needs her education and not to be jerked around from one campaign stop to the next.”

“What is her name?”

“Bella.”

“Bella,” the blathering idiot said.

“Short for Isabella.”

“Is she short?”

“No. Where did you get that idea?”

“You said she was short for Isabella.”

“I mean Bella is short for Isabella.”

“Okay. Does she have a dad?”

Lydia glared at him. “Does she need one?”

The blathering idiot shrugged. “You tell me.”

They ate most of their meals in silence, though the blathering idiot couldn’t help slurping his spaghetti every now and then. There was something satisfying to the sound and the feel of a noodle flipping up and down just before the end enter his mouth. He didn’t even mind if a little sauce got on his face.

Lydia looked at him and couldn’t help but giggle.

“Okay, if you want to know, Bella’s father took a powder.”

The blathering idiot wiped his face with his napkin. The napkin was not large. “Which one?”

“What?”

“Which powder did he take? A blue one? Red? Was it over the counter or a prescription powder?”

“He skipped out. Left us high and dry. Ran away.”

“Oh, and he took his powder with him?”

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The blathering idiot and the Pro-Accordion Party returns

The blathering idiot opened his front door. On the other side was Lydia and … and the consultant. The consultant was in front.

“May we come in?” the consultant asked, but was inside before he finished the question.

Lydia followed him in.

“Is your child home today?” the consultant asked.

“Child?”

“Your daughter?”

“I don’t have a daughter.”

“Xenia,” Lydia said.

“She is not my daughter,” the blathering idiot said. “It would be nice if she were, but she is my ex-girlfriend’s daughter.”

Pro-Accordion Party strikes again.

Pro-Accordion Party strikes again.

The on-again, off-again relationship with Zoey was off again. Maybe for good this time. There was some thick-glasses looking guy hanging around her these days. She said he was just a friend.

“Oh … that’s most unfortunate,” the consultant said.

“I agree,” the blathering idiot said. He missed Xenia very much. Maybe even more than his ex-girlfriend.

“Can you get another?”

“Another?”

“Daughter.”

“I guess. But I might have to get another girlfriend first. That might take some time.” The blathering idiot had not had a date in … he couldn’t remember. It had been even longer since he had had any intimacy.

“We don’t have time.” The consultant’s high forehead was covered in sweat.

The blathering idiot wondered if it had started raining. He glanced up at his ceiling: no leak.

“Let me try,” Lydia said, stepping forward.

They were all still standing inside the blathering idiot’s front door.

Lydia was as blond and as pretty as the blathering idiot remembered.

“It’s like this,” Lydia said. “The Pro-Accordion Party is gearing up for another run at the highest office in the land. We realized from the last time that one of our biggest mistakes was not starting early enough. My friend here did some polling and he found that a candidate with a daughter polled better than one without a daughter. So we were hoping you would still be interested in running and that your ex-girlfriend’s daughter would be interested in accompanying you.”

“You have a daughter,” the blathering idiot said.

“Yes she does,” the consultant said. “And she could loan her to you for the campaign.”

“My daughter is not fodder for this campaign!” Lydia said.

“We all must make sacrifices,” the consultant said.

“I sacrifice enough for Pro-Accordion Party.”

“My wife told me it was either my career or my marriage … and here I am.” He threw his arms open wide.

“Not my daughter,” Lydia said again. A tear trickled down her cheek.

The consultant put his arm around her. “We’ll talk.” He looked over at the blathering idiot. “If, you’ll excuse us for now.”

The blathering idiot opened the front door and they left.

As they walked down the steps from his porch, the blathering idiot signed and hoped it meant he would see Lydia again. Maybe even for a date.

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Jon Stewart harpoons the Fox “whale”

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Monday morning writing joke: “political speech writers”

Q.: How may political speech writers does it take to change a light bulb?

A.: 28

Two to write a position paper on changing the light bulb.

Three to write the speech encouraging the American public to change the light bulb.

Four to write the bill that will get sent to Congress proposing new light bulb legislation.

Five to write the speeches explaining why the light bulb should be changed and why now the country needs big light bulb change.

Six to write the rebuttals from the United Light Bulb Coalition as to why the light bulb shouldn’t be changed.

And four to write the brief comments the President will make after signing the Light Restoration and Rectifying Act.

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Silly Bills

by David E. Booker

O’, Pause and let us now behold
the elected intelligence in all its mold.
Bills run amuck of mind and light:
Sufficient fright for a Halloween night.
And there was more, lest you forget
a bill to take away your right to vote yet
for the U.S. Senator of your choice
Enlightened legislators said, “That’s our voice.”
Only a call from fed Senator Corker
prevented that piece of legislative porker.
Many other state bills ceased to be
because big money donors were displeased.
So, say what you will about money buying votes.
It may not get bills passed; but it can get them smote.

________

Tennessee State flag: 0' what trouble can they conceive when the state GOP is allowed to breathe.

Tennessee State flag: 0′ what trouble can they conceive when the state GOP is allowed to breathe.

NASHVILLE — On the state Senate floor last week, Sen. Brian Kelsey brought up a resolution that he explained as putting senators on record as declaring “if the federal government tries to infringe on our rights as American citizens, then we will intervene and fight for those rights.”

This prompted Senate Majority Leader Mark Norris to ask his fellow Republican how the resolution (SR17) differed from perhaps the most prominent of several bills introduced this year to nullify federal laws and subject federal officers to prosecution should they try to enforce them.

For the rest of the story, follow this link:
http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2013/apr/07/tennessee-gop-supermajority-eases-up-on-silly/

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Life is like a box of … politicians

http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2013/mar/13/wine-in-grocery-stores-bill-dies-by-1-vote-in/?partner=popular

Wine-in-grocery-stores bill dies by 1 vote in House committee

Why is it in my state, Tennessee, I can walk into a Super Wal-Mart and buy a rack of lamb and a box of bullets, but I can’t go in a buy a rack of lamb and box of wine?

Tennessee State flag

Tennessee State flag

Somehow, according to the fine, upstanding, bought and paid for, public servants in Nashville, it’s my God-given right if I want to buy something to potentially blow somebody else away, but heaven forbid if I want to buy something in a Super Wal-Mart, or even a “regular” grocery story, that might be used to “blow” myself away for a little while.

This in a state with a super-Republican majority in both the state House and Senate. This in the face of the Republican manta of less government. This in the thrall of hypocrisy about competition being the life blood of a “free market.”

It’s only less government if you buy it.

It’s only less government for you if you can make somebody else pay with a little less choice.

It’s only less government if you are the one defining it as so.

It’s only a box of … GOP politicians.

Yep, less government. Just big enough to fit in your bedroom.

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Freeform Friday: “And they call the wind Oh-My-Oh”

Cartoon of Angry White Guy

Superstorm Sandy was not the only ill wind to blow ashore this recent election season.

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The blathering idiot and The Pro-Accordion Party, part 10, the image

The blathering idiot had not done well in the one debate held on a public access channel in North Dakota. It had gone so poorly that nobody, even among the few Pro-Accordion Party supports in North Dakota remembered seeing him on the stage. Even the green Party candidate received more recognition.

The most notable thing that anybody could remember about the blathering idiot’s performance was that he had vowed to have accordion jazz music played at his inauguration. But even the one reporter covering the debate could not remember that it was him, the blathering idiot, who had said it. Only that somebody had said it and that it was the funniest line of the entire debate.

The blathering idiot had not intended for it to be funny.

But even Lydia had said it sounded funny to her, at least the way he had said it. Xenia said she had laughed out loud, time and time again, when she watched that clip of the debate on YouTube. That part of the debated was about t go viral, she said.

The blathering idiot did not think viral sounded good. He was pretty sure that meant terrible, but he was too afraid to ask. He was afraid that it would mean that his off-again, on-again girlfriend, Zoey, was right – that he would never amount to much.

That thought was still running through his head when the consultant walked into his motel room. He walked right up to the blathering idiot and said, “I have the answer.”

Lydia looked excited. Even Xenia looked a little excited. The blathering idiot did not feel excited.

“We don’t have much time, so we have to strike out in a new direction so we can stand out. You have to have a whole new image. Something that says: rugged, ready, pro-gun, pro-self-defense, professional in everything you do, which will appeal to the men, but also something that says, ‘I’m a man’s man.’ Chiseled features, rugged good looks. Something that will appeal to the ladies. And after all, they are the ones you really need to impress to get elected to the highest office in the land.”

The blathering idiot glanced at Lydia who nodded slightly. He glanced at Xenia who shrugged her shoulders as if to say all this boy-girl stuff was boring her.

The blathering idiot swallowed and said, “Okay. What do you have in mind?”

“A complete makeover.”

“Complete?”

“Exactly.”

“What will I look like when you’re done?”

“We’re done,” the consultant said. “You have to believe in this, too, or it won’t work.”

“Okay. What will I look like?”

“Do you believe in this?”

“I guess.”

“Do you believe in this?” The consultant’s voice was louder.

“Yes.”

“Say it again.”

“Yes,” the blathering idiot said.

“Louder.”

“Yes.”

“Yes, I believe!” the consultant shouted.

“Yes, I believe!” the blathering idiot shouted.

“Here, then,” the consultant said, “is what you will look like as a candidate after I … I mean … we complete your makeover.”

He slapped a photo in the blathering idiot’s lad.

For a second, the blathering idiot was afraid to look, but then slowly he tilted his head down and looked at the photo. What he saw in his lap surprised him, shocked him, and then sent a shiver down his spine.

He closed his eyes and hoped he would awaken in Oz or even Kansas.

Sean Connery in Zardoz

The blathering idiot’s new image.

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The blathering idiot and the Pro-Accordion Party, part 9, fund raising

The blathering idiot stood outside, behind a table with a few bumper stickers, buttons, and other items, including some holiday decorations. It was cool autumn morning. Leaves were falling. He could almost hear them. He turned toward Lydia at the table next to his. All three tables together formed a shallow U.

“Is this how it’s done?” he asked.

She smiled at him. “We are a small party with only a small name recognition. Until we become more well known, we won’t get the big money donors like the other parties have.”

The blathering idiot turned and looked at Xenia, his young assistant and the daughter of his off again, on again girlfriend. She was standing at a shorter table to his right. This was the fourth such event they had both been a part of this week. At none of the events did they seem to have much success.

She smiled at him, and then shrugged her shoulders. There were a few things on her table. She was actually selling more than he was.

He looked back at Lydia. “How much money do we have to raise today?”

“More than yesterday.”

“And how much did we raise yesterday?”

“Not enough.”

“That’s what you said yesterday when I asked about the day before.”

“And it was true then and it’s true now. These days, with outside groups being able to buy and run all kinds of ads on their own, campaigns need a lot of money just to get going, and to keep them going requires even more.”

“Like a corporate sponsor?” the blathering idiot asked.

“Not quite,” Lydia said.

“Like maybe we could get a sponsor to put their logo on the side of the campaign truck? ‘This campaign sponsored by Deep Fried Fritters,’” Xenia said. “’Deep fried fritters, just the thing to warm you up on a cool fall morning.’”

Xenia did her best to put an announcer’s voice into her mock advertisement.

“I don’t think that would fit on the side of the truck,” the blathering idiot said.

“And that’s not what this is about.” Lydia scowled at Xenia.
“Then what is this about?” the blathering idiot asked.

“It’s about name recognition,” Lydia said

“Then maybe we should sponsor something.”

“But we don’t have the money.”

“And that’s why we’re out here.”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why we’ve been doing this for four days?”

“Yes.”

“And how many more days will we be outside like this?” Xenia asked.

“Until we raise enough money,” Lydia said.

“To sponsor something?” the blathering idiot asked.

Lydia scowled at him. “The Pro-Accordion Party is already sponsoring you. This yard sale and all the other ones is about raising money to get you elected to the highest office in the land. Pro-Accordion members donated all this junk so you might get elected!”

Just then two people came through the gate into the yard. They heard the word junk, looked disappointed and even a little angry (The blathering idiot thought he saw a scowl forming on the man’s face.), immediately turned around and left.

“I guess he won’t be sponsoring us,” Xenia said.

This time Lydia glared at her.

Sale sign

Sometimes it’s hard to get the people who are selling to buy into what you are selling.

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