Thursday, June 30, 2016

Thoughts from the St. C. Trump rally

I went to a Donald Trump rally in St. Clairsville, Ohio a couple nights ago.  Before you question my political allegiances or mental stability/sanity, please be aware that I go to just about every presidential campaign event within an hour proximity.  This would be my third Trump rally (David Lawrence Convention Center, airport hangar at the Pittsburgh cargo terminal, and now the latest, Ohio Eastern University auditorium).  My primary motivation for attending is to distribute my propaganda

I've also attended several Bernie and Hillary rallies.  Even a Kasich one.  There was only one where I couldn't muster up the requisite enthusiasm.  Drumroll please.... it was Ted Cruz in Monroeville.  Seriously, can you blame me?  However, I do have incredibly fond memories of his running mate's "drop it like it's hot" stage disappearance. 

Reminds me of throwing towels down the old laundry chute. Or when you cash your check in the bank drive thru and the money comes hurdling down at ya in one of those cylinder containers via compressed air.  Swoooosh!

Since this is my third Trump rally, I thought I'd offer a few observations.  Pulling into the lot, the first thing you notice is the carnival atmosphere.  Roving black men selling t-shirts.  Incidentally, with the exception of Secret Service, TSA and local cops, these are the only individuals of color you will see at a Trump rally.  Surprisingly enough, they're kind of boisterous.  Running around from car to car, hustling and yelling... 

"Donald Fuckin' Trump for President!"  
"Monica sucks, Hillary Swallows!"
"Hillary for Prison!"
"Trump that Bitch!"  

This is their collective refrain.  Others are hocking hats, pins, lawn signs, etc.  Like I said, it's basically a yard sale/carnie atmosphere.  And guess what?  Yep, the pigeons are out in full force.  They're the most highly coveted market of the commercial sector--- white men aged 25-35.  Impetuous young male adults.  The impulsive ones who will buy anything.  There's a ton of overlap with the Kenny Chesney/UFC crowd.  I collectively refer to them as the "finger lookin' kids."

You think I'm kidding?

In a way, it's kind of fascinating.  The Trump crowd seems comprised mostly of those who feel "left behind."  Continually betrayed by the wealthy and upper class segments of society.  The ones who have an extreme distrust of Washington DC and the political elite.  Is it any wonder that some of these people would buy clothing with an overt fellatio reference and wear it as a definitive source of pride?  Honestly, who the fuck would wear a shirt that reads "Donald Fuckin' Trump?"  

Well... it is red, white and blue I suppose.

Build the Wall!  Build the Wall!, U.S.A.! U.S.A.!

For many of them, I imagine it's a deeply ritualistic rite of passage.  To be part of a grassroots movement.  Whatever conclusion you may draw, I'll tell you one thing for certain.  There's a populist camaraderie amongst the Trump crowd.  And it's not going away anytime soon.  The majority seem smitten and star-struck.  Trump is their celebrity hero du jour and he can do no wrong whatsoever.  That's a dangerous combination.

The crazy thing is this.  Ask any diehard Trump supporter if they have any fundamental disagreements on his positions, policy stances or style of governance.  The vast majority will be like... "Uhh, NO!  I'm on the Trump train."  Concerns about statesmanship and tone, waterboarding and torture, his shift from pro-choice to pro-life, from self-financing to asking for political contributions, his disdain for the media... the same media he used to catapult himself to victory in the Republican primary?  And what of his professed love for the military... yet he had 4 Vietnam era draft deferments?  Dick Cheney eat your artificial heart out! 

You see, most Trump supporters could care less about his policy flip-flops, flagrant lies or lack of knowledge in economics, politics, world affairs, etc.  They simply just don't give a shit.  And this sets a very eerie precedent... when his supporters are seemingly immune to any thoughtful conjecture or debate.  That kinda stuff happens when you idolize an individual and play the "hero worship" card.  For the average Trump supporter, The Donald can do no wrong.  And he'll never have to issue an apology.  While this unhinged zealotry may appeal to his supporters, it tends to frighten the majority of the voting population.  At least I would hope so.      

Something else to keep in mind.  Even though Hillary and Trump both have high negatives, I honestly believe that Trump is the candidate who can do a better job of acquiring new voters.  Seems to me that Hillary's popularity peaked long ago.  Whereas, Trump can flourish off any future events that are deemed as anti-government or anti-establishment.  That's a pretty big menu for success and a recipe that's really easy to spin.  Screw the high negatives.  If you're Donald Trump, it almost pays to embrace them.

So exactly what could secure a Trump presidency?  Well, there are an abundance of hypothetical scenarios.  But I think you know the one I'm talkin' about.

Dominipede, bitches! 

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Westboro Baptist Church Golf Tees

I recently stumbled across this meme on facebook.

It reinvigorated my interest in "system disruptions" as it applies to my arch nemesis, the Westboro Baptist Church.

Personalized golf tees are relatively inexpensive.  A fair online price is 1,000 quality wooden tees for about $49.99 + s/h.

Here's my suggestion.  Make a ton of golf tees that read:

Westboro Baptist Church


Sunday golf is sin
Westboro Baptist Church


Golfers are drunkards. Repent.
Westboro Baptist Church

You can personalize them with 1-3 lines.  The premise here is pretty obvious.  Whenever you go golfing, you occasionally scatter a few tees on the tee boxes.  Takes absolutely no effort whatsoever.  A box of tees makes a great Christmas gift for uncle Joe as well.  Trust me, it would be a fantastic conversation starter for when everyone's unwrapping gifts.

All golfers share one thing in common.  They all visually scan the tee box for a fresh tee.  Whenever you find a tee on the box or a ball in the woods, your first instinctive thought is... SCORE!

Now imagine incurring the wrath of the typical drunken golfer --- someone who just hooked their drive into the woods or missed a 3 foot putt.  The first thing that's going to pop into his head... "What the fuck was the Westboro Baptist Church doing here?"  Why the fuck were these assholes on my course?"

Naturally, a phone number is provided.  And since everyone has a cell phone on them these days, I'm pretty sure that at least one member of the foursome would goad someone into making the call.  It's merely a percentage play.  Just like everything else, it's a numbers game.  So when the brainwashed secretarial devotee in Topeka, Kansas picks up the phone at WBC Headquarters, they get bombarded with a seemingly nonsensical tirade.  

Stay the hell out of Canyon Resort you bastards!  Go preach your bullshit somewhere else!    
Don't tell me how to spend my day off, you fucking pieces of biblical shit!
Fuck you!  If I wanna drink a 6-pack, that's my business!  Not yours, asshole!

I like this idea because it promotes an aberrant discourse with people who go to extreme lengths to promote their own unique brand of fire and brimstone absurdity.  Seriously, these losers went out of their way to "protest" the funerals of the 2nd grade kids who were mowed down at Sandy Hook.  How could any rational person do something like that?  Even serial killers have better moral instincts.  You know you're on the wrong track when your popularity ranking is 3 points below cannibal Jeffrey Dahmer.

They're in Orlando as well.   I just think it's time for a little payback on the planet.  Or at the very least, a little balance.  

If you find this idea appealing, you may want to check out another one of my ideas that would transform the sport of golf.  I've gotten a fair amount of hits on this blog I wrote about five years ago.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Pittsburgh Segway Game

I came up with a new game today.  I call it Who the fuck are you?  It's modeled after the cartoon character Peter Griffin of Family Guy.

... and Roger Daltry, lead singer of The Who

.... and the Pittsburgh Segway tours

As some of you may know, I run a 3 mile loop pretty much everyday through the North Shore and Point State Park.  Depending on my stamina, sometimes I'll add an extra mile or two.  I start at my coveted parking spot outside the Sunoco Station on Cedar Avenue just off the secluded, mysterious Canal Street exit.  Just for the record, it's correctly pronounced Cane-uhl, not Kuh-nal.

Here's my basic route.  I do all three bridges, back and forth (Rachel Carson, Andy Warhol, Roberto Clemente) and through the PNC ballpark outfield.   If the gates are closed, I zip along the river.   Then it's down toward Stage AE.  Onward for a loop around Heinz Field and sometimes the casino if I'm really in the zone.  Then, over the Fort Duquesne Bridge and around the fountain at Point State Park.  Back over the bridge, snag 2-3 newspapers from the Hyatt and walk the rest of it back to base camp.

It's easily one of the coolest 5K paths in the entire country.

When the weather is pleasant, you often encounter these segway tours.  Helmeted visitors enjoying the sights and sounds... and smells (sometimes there are large piles of puke and puddles of urine after the annual Kenny Chesney concert at Heinz Field).

So here's the gist of the game.  As you jog by the lead segway tour guide, you pull a Peter Griffin.  Explanation: there was this one episode where the entire family was lost in a large crowd of a foreign city and desperately needed directions.   Naturally, Peter approached each person and asked each one individually in rapid fire succession , "Who are you, who are you, who are you, who are you?"  He did not wait for replies.  He just went from one person to the next.  "Who are you, who are you, etc." like a Blaney inspired machine gun laugh.

You simply take this same strategy and apply it to all of the mobile segway beings (helmeted automata --- the correct pluralization, even though you'd think it would be "automatons").  And on the final person, you start singing the classic Who song "Who are You" at the top of your lungs.

Cuz I really wanna know.  Who are you, who, who... who, who.  Ahhh, who the fuck are you, are you.  Who who... who who.  Ah tell me, tell me

The objective of the game is to get the segway automata to sing along.  It's a cool game because there are only two outcomes.  You either win (and they start singing)... or you lose (and they think you're an idiot freak and venture forward in confusion with a residual state of annoyance).  Either someone takes the bait or they all just plod off into the distance, content to live their dreary, unimaginative existences. 

I tried it today and failed.  But I know there will be another opportunity.  Eventually, my time will come.  For the love of God, everything depends on it!

Now let us say a prayer for the unfortunate victims of the 1970 Cincinnati Who concert stampede at Riverfront Coliseum.  Over the years, I've begun to notice a characteristic about human stampedes, particularly at religious festivals like last year's Hajj which had a death toll of over 2,400.  God, Allah, Vishnu or whoever just doesn't seem to give a shit.

Incidentally, my favorite all time Who song is --- drumroll please... Eminence Front.  After all, it's a put on.  People forget.

Friday, June 17, 2016

The Rehabilitated Remains of Ratt'n'Roll

Lots of action in the Burgh this week.

The Pens had their Stanley Cup parade dahntahn.  It drew an estimated 400,000.  Not sure about accuracy of that number, but I guess it's plausible.  I don't know what it is about Southwestern PA, but Pittsburgh must have the greatest per capita concentration of parades, fireworks, tattoos, body piercings and aspiring artists. 

Iconic rockers the Violent Femmes played a mile down the road at Mr. Smalls in Millvale on Tuesday.  Gigi made an unexpected trip to Orlando to "shoot" the Pulse Nightclub tragedy.  So she missed one of her bucket list bands... yet again.  She has always wanted to see the Femmes.  Oddly enough, I saw the Violent Femmes open for the Dead in the scorching summer of '91 at Buckeye Lake (formerly Legend Valley, a much cooler name).  I was there with Long Red Hair (Sylvia) and we had no idea there was even gonna be an opening band.  Needless to say, we both briefly lost our minds.  Maybe, just maybe, it was the recreational enhancements.  Hard to say.  I've seen a few bands open for the Grateful Dead --- Sting, Steve Miller, Traffic... but the Violent Femmes???  I'd like to get inside the mind of the person who booked that one.  Oooh, this will be a good fit.  Next thing you know, Peter Cetera is opening for Death Angel.  Culture Club for Slayer.

The Pittsburgh Pirates continue to falter.  They're in the midst of a horrible losing stretch.  Maybe the team's distracted.  I'd like to think it's my fault... as their abysmal play is directly coinciding with me dropping off "business cards" on my daily 3 mile jog.  I put those little, non-traditional gems in all the ticket windows.  Does it accomplish anything?  Probably not.  Just pissing them off.  But it makes me happy.  I have a hunch the Steelers down at Heinz Field are getting a bit irritated as well.  Even more so.


Could a "dominipede" be the next 9/11?

Is there a wireless equivalent to shouting FIRE
in a crowded theater?  Multiple theaters?
Artificially Generated Stampede Awareness Foundation


People have a fundamental right to know...

that if they are in a large, confined crowd (stadium, ballpark, motor speedway, amphitheater, arena, etc.)
and receive an evacuation order and/or panic-inducing information 
from their cell phone or mobile device...

it's almost certainly a malicious hoax 
designed to create a human stampede.

Not your typical business card, eh?  Where the fuck's the contact info?  Where's the cool little logo?  Oh, you mean this one ---

Don't need it.  The information is more important.

Here's my best advice --- maybe check the website and do some actual reading.  I just threw up a new article yesterday.  It's about last week's Roger Goodell death hoax on twitter.   

Yesterday, the U.S. Open in Oakmont got hit with a massive rain delay.  There was a torrential downpour for about an hour.  Hopefully, they're forced to extend play into Monday.  If that's the case, I'll probably hit it.  Freebie tix will be everywhere and it'll be way less crowded.  Oddly enough, in my entire 45 years, I've never attended a professional golf event.  Well, I did go to an LPGA match at Oglebay back when I was 13.  I wouldn't say that really counts.  I'll never forget this lady golfer complaining, "The ball is stuck in this shit down there.  It's all shit!  What the fuck am I supposed to do?"  I was a little taken aback by her terse description of the course conditions at Speidel.

So anyway, last night G and I went to see my high school heroes --- RATT!!!  They had a concert scheduled for Jergel's in Warrendale.  Well, except it really wasn't Ratt.  It was drummer Bobby Blotzer's reincarnation of the vestigial remains of that which was once termed Ratt.  Hey now, Blotzer is a local from Turtle Creek.  Other than Mike Lange's anguished oink of Arnold Slick from Turtle Crick, he's the only person I know who hails from that particular quadrant of outer Monroevia.

This rodent re-invasion consisted of all new band members.  Gone was bass player Juan Croucier and Warren Demartini (who incidentally, bears a slight resemblance to my brother Bennett from back in his hippie Oberlin College days).

Their rhythm guitarist Robin Crosby died back in 2002 of AIDS related complications.  Hard to believe it was almost 15 years ago.  And what of Stephen Pearcy?  His most recent vocal stylings sound like a squealing Lemiwinks inside the colon of deceased Motorhead singer Lemmy.  Seriously, if I were to make a culinary analogy, the closest approximation would be "charred Spam" or "wet Funyun."  Ohh, how the mighty have fallen.

Alright, I'll start from the beginning.  Yesterday, having never been there, I checked the Jergel's facebook page.  Doors open at 6pm.  Show starts at 8.  Some guy named Grimy McFunkerson was really excited.  He was gonna snag a table right near the stage at 4pm.  Color me jealous.  I didn't know how big the place was but I was anticipating a packed house.  Maybe 800 people or so.

Tickets were priced at $45.00.   For what basically was a refurbished bar band.  Fuckin' ouch.  This made me start to have some serious doubts.  I mean, we almost certainly wouldn't be able to score freebies or do any wheelin' and dealin'.  I don't like being taken advantage of.  Not on a Thursday for Christ sake.  Hey, this ain't college night!

Nevertheless, we set out around 8:40 and got there a little after 9:00.  The parking lot seemed about half full.  We hung out in the car and had some Sweet Tarts and drank a little red wine.  Hmmm.  About 9:15pm rolled around and we said, "alright, let's do this shit."  So we walked straight in the front door and went right to the bar.  Nobody stopped us.  Nobody said shit.  I am not a religious man.  But praise be given to the glory of the Allah!  Seriously, let us sing the praises of the gnawing, gerbilicious gods.  We shalt honor and extol thine excrement and miniscule rodent droppings.

If there is a cloud 9, well... then I was on cloud 10.  The thought of having to fork over $90 was simply not copacetic.

So Gigi had a Bombay and tonic and I got a bottle of Coors Light.  Best damned fizzy water I ever tasted in my life.  We noticed that everybody had wrist bands.  Damn, I should have brought those rainbow Chevron wristbands I snagged from the gay pride parade.  Yep, there was yet another parade in Pittsburgh on Sunday.  It was the week-long culmination, or rather weak-dong cumination of sodomistic activities that coincided with the end of the Arts Fest.  Why on earth is oil and gas titan Chevron Texaco actively involved in the gay rights movement?  I have no idea.  But they do make a mean wristband.

My favorite moment from the gay parade was the two guys wearing matching shirts --- in all caps, "I'M PROUD OF MY FUCKING HUSBAND."  Like it?  No.  I fucking love it!

So was Jergel's packed?  Uh, no.  I'd say about 150 Ratt'n'Rollers absolute tops.  I kind of felt bad for them.  Hardly what I'd consider a warm homecoming for the Blotz.  I won't do a song by song analysis.  However, I must give credit where credit is due.  They do NOT play an identical, regurgitated setlist night after night.  From show to show, they really mix it up.  They dig deep into the archives.  And the band sounded totally outstanding.  Their singer, whatever his name is, is far superior to Stephen Pearcy.  We'll just call him ratatouille.  Ratatouille was a vegan delight.  A hearty amalgamation of eggplant, zucchini, peppers and tomatoes.  Diced not crushed, mutha fucka!  He really encapsulated the essence of Pearcy's studio voice.  Truth be told, Pearcy's raspy sound is a challenge to replicate.  But if anything, it was always unique.  Kinda in an AC/DC-Brian Johnson-esque kinda way.  

So we spotted the WXDX 105.9 SuperPenis.  Naturally, I walked by and threw down a few business cards on his table.  Fuck that fat ass.  Gigi tapped him on the shoulder and said "supergenius" while doing the "blind walk-by flip off."  Nice.  As much as I enjoy listening to his humor and insight, the guy really is an obnoxious tub of egomaniacal lard.  One day.  One day this will become apparent to the masses.  Until then, you do what the cool kids do and follow him on twitter.

My partner in crime scored a setlist from the soundboard guy. 

I like the misplaced apostrophe for "YOUR'E IN LOVE."

Three of the songs were omitted from the show.  Closer To my Heart (one of my favorites - sucked), You Should Know By Now (another one of my favorites - double sucked) and Body Talk (no big deal).  For one them, they subbed in Dance, Dance, Dance.  Always liked that song.  15 songs instead of 18.   I've always been a huge fan of Out of the Cellar and Invasion of Your Privacy.  Their other stuff... not so much.

Show was easily over before 11pm.  

All in all, we had a good time.  Just glad we didn't have to pay.  I wouldn't have been able to reconcile the evening's festivities.  Instead, I would have been forced to bear that burden for probably at least a decade or so.  I'm also glad we didn't get there at 4pm.  Although, I would have enjoyed sharing fond memories of Ratt'n'Roll with Grimy McFunkerson.

A final unrelated thought.  During the recent cicada invasion of Northern West Virginia, one of my best friends Amandasar Overmars (Amanda) gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.  Her and her husband BTE (Big Tall Eric) opened up the naming rights to the general public.  They eventually decided on Gabriella Marie.  My name of choice was "Ada Cicada."  Not only would this endearing name have coincided with the 17 year biblical plague of locusts.  But it's also a very catchy palindrome that comes on the cusp of palindrome week (6-12-16, 6-13-16, 6-14-16, etc.).

So if you recently gave birth and are still looking for a unique name for yer baby girl, feel free to snag it.  You can always go with the more traditional Adeline and keep Ada as a nickname.  Just for the record, I watch Maury Povich paternity testing and routinely see names like Jamjam, Pajama, Flowerama, Blazin', and Liberty Bell.  So is Ada Cicada really that much of a stretch?  I think not.

And if it's a boy, how about the palindrome-consistent Rattar or Trattart?  Both have a Moroccan tinged vibe.   FYI - the capital of Morocco is Rabat.  And what about my personal palindropic fave, Tartar Ratrat?   Great name if your parents own a fish store and it was shut down by the Department of Health.  Or you could go the more traditional route and just name the kid Rat (Mark "Rat" Ratner from Fast Times at Ridgemont High).  Or like I said earlier... how about Ratatouille?  I really like these vegan-inspired names.  Borscht, Carrot (as in Carrot-top), maybe Cuke or even Rutabaga.  This seems like it could be the new rage.  So many are embracing the organic crap.

The best example is my friend Mitch who goes to Sam's Club and buys the 100 lb. sack of potatoes for $19.99.  Then, he'll hit up the nearby farmers market.  He distributes them evenly into 20 smaller baskets and writes the word "ORGANIC POTATOES" on all of them.  $5.00 a basket.  Boom!  He just made $80 in no time.  Are they organic?  No.  Are they orgasmic?  Possibly.  He even has a stack of fliers which detail the benefits of organic produce.  Good sell.

Back to the baby names.  I once knew this kid named Burgess Burgess.  True story.  And that was back in the late 70's.  Feel free to share your favorite name in the comment section below.  For the love of God Dog, this blog could use a little feedback and interaction. 

Tuesday, June 07, 2016


The Pens might win the Stanley Cup on Thursday.  Seems like a good opportunity to head down to Consol and preach the gospel.  I think I'm going to make 500 business cards and hand them out accordingly.  It'll set me back $13.99.  So is it worth it?  Yes.  I believe it is.


Artificially Generated Stampede Awareness Foundation

People have a fundamental right to know...

that if they are in a large, confined crowd and receive an evacuation order
and/or panic-inducing information from their cell phone or mobile device...

it's almost certainly a malicious hoax designed to create an artificially generated stampede.

So yeah, that looks like your typical business card.  You know.  Gotta support the team.

It's getting a little cliche.  Everyone's still yapping about the HBK line.  Hagelin, Bonino, Kessel.  What a creative talking point for your average Pixburgh junkhead!

However, I will confess.  That particular anti-Trump, hispanic barrage was pretty cool.

And of course, there's the Primanti's HBK equivalent.  Ham, Bacon, Kielbasi.

It got me to thinking.  As history is my witness, I've almost always grown a playoff beard when the Penguins are in the playoffs.  Steelers too.  Pirates?  Well, I've rarely been afforded the opportunity... until just recently for a couple of "one and dones."

So here's my idea.  Men in Pittsburgh with the capability to grow actual facial hair should consider my BGM concept.  It stands for Beard, Goatee, Mustache.

Penguins make the playoffs --- you grow a beard.
Steelers make the playoffs --- you grow a goatee.
Pirates make the playoffs --- you grow a mustache.

Mustache???  Abso-fuckin'-lutely.  I think we can all get behind the idea of every man walking around PNC Park sporting the traditional, weirdo-creepy mustache look.  In the line at the port-a-jon, hanging out in the guest relations room, and especially while being tasered by ballpark security as you're eagerly awaiting yer Dippin' Dots.  It's a win-win... for local yinzers, nationwide televised sports, pretty much humanity in general.

Women could participate as well.  I'd recommend the BGM "pubic-equivalent."  Maybe go with the classic choices --- landing strip, heart-shaped box and the Charlie Chaplin (or if you prefer, Hitler).  Speaking of Hitler, I like the idea of replicating a Trump vaginal pubic design.  Maybe call it the Trump Stump or Forrest Trump.  I like the forest-oriented spin on the word bush.  A sharp side part, and then an overly-slicked wavy clump of pubes.  Bone-us points if you're an actual ginger.

As I was saying, any way you shape it, it's a win-win.

So I'm gonna take my electric razor down to Consol on Thursday night.  If the Pens win it all, I'll shave this grey crinkly crap on the spot.  It's really gotta go.

 Who knows, maybe they'll let me do it for the 11 o'clock news?

Thursday, June 02, 2016


Hillary is making a major speech today on national security and Donald Trump's dangerous lack of foreign policy experience.  In anticipation, Trump already launched a preemptive twitter attack.

Bernie Sanders was right when he said that Crooked Hillary Clinton was not qualified to be president because she suffers from BAD judgement!

Crooked Hillary Clinton has zero natural talent - she should not be president. Her temperament is bad and her decision making ability-zilch!

Yeah, great material there Donald.  Truly profound... as usual.

Rubio was "Little Marco."  Cruz was "Lyin' Ted."  Jeb was "low energy."  Senator Sanders is "Crazy Bernie."  Former President Bill Clinton is "Cheatin' Bill."  And of course, Clinton is "Crooked Hillary."

For the next 6 months, Trump is going to use the term "crooked" ad nauseum.  I suspect you'll start to see caricatures of her with a hunched over back.  It's a predictably obvious attempt to make her appear old, frail and weak.  Call me crazy, but I have a strong "hunch" that you'll eventually hear the term "Hunchback Hillary."  Far be it from me to offer clever twitter snippets to that infrared jag-off.  As if Trump would really know the definition of "kyphosis."  Scoliosis maybe.  But kyphosis?  No fucking way.

Anyway, here's my point.  For the past 8 years, the entire Republican establishment has been very effective with conveying straightforward attack messages.  Their party leadership gets everyone on the same page and is relentless.  Whether it's issues like Benghazi or words like Obamacare, the party leadership disseminates their talking points and the mindless automatons in the House and Senate go to work on Fox News.  Over and over and over again.   They all conform to the same playbook.  To the ill-informed, if you constantly repeat the same thing, over time, it basically becomes the truth.  Trust me, I get it.  Regrettably, the Democrats do NOT get it.

So here's the dealio.  Hillary needs to find a word that literally defines Trump.  And that word is... drum roll please...


scatterbrained, half-baked, dimwitted, giddy, reckless --- all the synonyms are totally spot-on.

And the best part of all, every time you say the word "hairbrained," it draws attention to his trademark... that imbecilic, ginger, sloping side-do. 

Now Hillary is just a tad more professional with her delivery.  So I'd recommend some easily digestible talking points for the masses.  For example...

Donald Trump tells us he's going to build that wall, build that wall, build that wall.  What kind of a hairbrained immigration strategy is this?  Donald, here are some really tough questions --- Where will the wall start?  Where will it end?  Can you fly over the wall in a plane?  Can you sail around it in a boat?  Can you scale the wall and use a rope to climb down the other side? 

When it comes to national security, Donald Trump says he's going to "bomb the hell" out of Isis.   What kind of hairbrained strategy is this?  How are you going to distinguish between Isis and innocent civilians.  We've already flown 12,000+ bombing missions against Isis.  Exactly how many more are necessary.

On women's rights... Trump wants to punish women who get an abortion.  He once was pro-choice.  But now he's unabashedly pro-life.  What kind of hairbrained flip-flop is that? 

On the economy... Donald Trump says he's going to negotiate better deals and win the trade war with China.  What kind of hairbrained economic mumbo jumbo is this?  Is he going to personally negotiate all our future trade deals with the leaders of 200+ countries?  If he's going to delegate the task, exactly who are these masterminds?  I'd be a little worried if they're all valedictorians from Trump University.

Ohh, and then there's the Supreme Court.  Call me silly, but my Supreme Court nominations will be graduates of Harvard or Yale or Stanford University... not a ponzi scheme or scam program like Trump University.

By the way, every time Hillary refers to Trump University, she should call it Trump U.  It's a great wordplay, because it implies that you've just been trumped... or to a lesser degree, screwed and fucked over.  Subtle, condescending mockery is the superior strategy for coping with The Donald.  You can't really have an intellectual debate with this guy, so why even bother.  Marginalize him.  Belittle him.  Chuckle at him.  It will drive him to the brink of insanity.  Trump has a ridiculously fragile ego.  It's his achilles heel.  Of all the seven deadly sins, pride is Trump's fatality.

One more observation.  At every turn, Hillary should appear flabbergasted and incredulous with the notion that HE is the official Republican candidate.  Not only will you soundly defeat Trump, you might just end up winning over the Senate and maybe the House.  Trump winning the Republican nomination is a gift from the political gods, but if and only IF,  you take him out at the knees.