It's Friday

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In case the image disappears, it says, "Trump 2016, there will be Hell toupee." *** The G.O.P. Debate: Crowded, Bloated, and Sour The debate reflected the state of the Republican Party: at once recklessly insinuating and utterly timid when it comes to extremism in its own ranks. *** Is there anything I can add to crowded, bloated and sour? No. But try telling my Editor that. Then add in the fact that this is the slowest news week in the history of the human race and you see the size of my problem. There's nothing to talk about except for the debate. And it can be completely covered with crowded, bloated and sour. Making my job even difficult, those very words were already used by The New Yorker. Some days it don't even pay to get out of bed. Right now, I feel pretty much the same way Scott Walker felt on Wednesday night. And the same way Carly Fiorina is going to feel when she finds out that no matter how well you do in a debate, Rufus, Cletus, Bubba and the rest of the Conservative Base simply won't vote for you because you're a girl. And you did a really lousy job at HP. So I am in pretty bad shape. On the plus side, I am doing better than Rufus, Cletus, Bubba and the rest of the Conservative Base who won't vote for girls because my latest dead hero didn't commit suicide (Son Of Fatally Shot Fox Lake Officer Says Dad Wasn't Suicidal). Yeah, sorry, he killed himself and soon it will be official, this pig in a blanket did the right thing and fried himself like bacon. And if my latest dead hero did kill himself, I would still be doing better than they are. I don't need to go into it in depth again because I've already done it so many times before (Here's one example: The Genie IS Free) but the short story is that I don't see suicide as a bad thing. Dealing with a death is never easy but suicide at least makes sense. The person wanted out and got out. Unlike with murder, accidents and disease, you know that no longer being in this pointless exercise we call life is what the person wanted. That doesn't make you miss them any less but it takes all the anger and frustration out of the equation. Do you remember what it was like when John Lennon died? Yeah, that was a terrible day. When Robin Williams died, it was a million times easier because it was Robin's choice. It wasn't made by some idiot with a gun. I know some of you have a religious objection to suicide but...Oh, how can I put this so it won't offend anyone, oh, OK, I've got it...Get over it because there is no God. And even if there is a God, He does not care the least little bit about suicide and if you kill yourself you'll go to Heaven just like everyone else. In fact, I think, if there is really a God, life is merely a test to determine the people who are smart enough to escape this madness early. And God will laugh at you if you die of natural causes. Don't feel bad. I'm obviously failing this IQ test, too. And now that I'm officially an idiot and I'm disappointing God with my dumbness, I feel more than ever like Scott Walker. And there's only one cure I can think of, the Theme drink that Fifi, my Sommelier, invented for tonight: ==================== Crowded, Bloated And Sour Ingredients: 2 oz Grapefruit juice 1/2 oz Lime juice 1 1/2 oz Everclear Mixing instructions: Mix with ice and pour into glass. ==================== I probably don't have to tell you this but, just in case, I will anyway. Don't ask Fifi, "Is Crowded, Bloated And Sour a response to the debate or do you just have PMS?" Or you can if you want. It's still a free country, sort of. But if you do, I don't think you'll like the results. Or maybe you will. Who knows? While you're thinking it over, let's play tonight's Featured Party Game: Binders Full Of Girls And Boys Wearing Hillary And Bernie Thongs. Because, of course, they were the huge winners Wednesday night. That does it for this Crowded, Bloated And Sour day. Here Are The Links: http://chicagoist.com/2015/09/16/the_son_of_fox_lake.php http://www.blogster.com/xander6464/the-genie-is-free