CSotD: Wiggin’ out
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Today's Monty got a particular laff because I was checking out a guy's rug on TV yesterday and wondering why he would wear such a ridiculous hat, particularly since, as a guy rich enough to be on television regularly, he could probably afford a toop that looked like perhaps his own hair.
I mean, I wouldn't have spotted Howard Cosell's toop if Muhammed Ali had not made a thing out of it.
Which is one more reason to love Ali, but the point is, that was a long time ago and, while Cosell's rug would have been more obvious if TVs had been a little more HD back then, it was still a pretty good piece and even then you couldn't blame technological shortcomings for the dead raccoon on your head.
But even a piece which looks almost real starts looking silly when the body underneath clearly calls for at least a touch of gray and yet the carpet remains resolutely the color Monsanto made it.
That's an advantage of getting plugs: They change as you do, and the only problem there is if, like Roger Stone, you leapt for the technology back in the days when you ended up looking like a showerhead.
Joe Biden had a similar outcome but clearly went back to get it fixed as the science improved. Not only did the newer practitioners use smaller plugs, but they didn't line them up straight across your forehead like doll's hair.
I'm particularly aware of this because my own hair began disappearing when I was still in my 30s, which could have sent me into a tailspin of self-doubt but didn't particularly matter to me.
However, I'm now at the stage where I have so few follicles on top that I can't decide whether to go for the Mel Cooley look and shave them off entirely or just let nature be nature.
Which leads to another conversation, because I was explaining to a pair of granddaughters the quiet ways in which black employees used to vent their pre-Civil-Rights frustrations.
One I forgot to mention was that I worked in the kitchen of a man who was barely five feet tall and had a small collection of follicles on top, left long to be combed back.
I remember one day when he was giving the chef instructions for an upcoming event of some sort which I don't remember because what was more striking was the black dishwasher standing behind him, gently blowing across the top of his head so that his follicles waved forward in the breeze while the chef had to take his directions without cracking up.
I'm not wanting to be that guy, but, then, Mel Cooley took his share of abuse as well.
I suspect that the trick is to focus your vanity on something else.
Speaking of people with silly hair
Second mention here in as many days for L'il Donnie, who, in the current episode, drops the best waitaminute line I've heard in a long time, simply by pointing out that Tom Price got canned for doing on a couple of occasions what Dear Leader does nearly every weekend.
And, before you ask, no, pissing away taxpayer money is not grounds for impeachment. Nor is there anything in the Constitution about "dereliction of duty."
The straightforward delivery nails the idea that the rules don't apply to Himself, which is then emphasized by association with the concept that Trump thinks his job is to be a figurehead and to shoot his mouth off on Twitter.
There's nothing new about figurehead presidents, but the concept of "Hire the right people and get out of the way" only works if you get the first part right.
Grant and Harding may not have known how much graft was happening on their watch, while W probably didn't intend to let Cheney's cabal push us into eternal warfare while crashing the economy.
But Trump doesn't seem to have grasped either end of that old bromide, and his temperamental, childish interference with his own Secretary of State is apt to get us all blowed up.
Better he should focus his vanity on stuff like this:
Having attacked the NFL for permitting demonstrations over police shootings of black people, Dear Leader alienated the NBA by dis-inviting at least Steph Curry or perhaps the champion Golden State Warriors from the traditional congratulatory visit to the White House.
It was hard to tell, because Curry announced he wasn't going and then Trump announced "Oh yeah? Well, you're not invited!" and the entire team decided it meant all of them.
So, as Gary Clement notes, Trump retaliated by inviting the Stanley Cup Champion Pittsburgh Penguins to come pay him homage instead.
We shouldn't read too much into this. As spokesperson Sharon Huckleberry Sanders said, "I don’t think there’s much to clarify. It’s pretty black and white there."
And, to be fair, the Penguins do have a black player, Ryan Reaves, though, to be accurate, he was just acquired in a trade with the St. Louis Blues and hasn't yet played for the Penguins.
He's also not an American, but then only 18 of the current roster of 56 Penguins are.
That's about a third, which isn't much but is also more or less the percentage of Americans who think Trump is doing a good job.
The Traveler Has Come
Brewster Rockit seems to have blundered into this mess unintentionally, but I think we can wrestle the new story arc into some kind of political-metaphorical commentary.
I couldn't help it. It just popped in there.
What? WHAT "just popped in there?"
I… I… I tried to think…
LOOK!
No! It CAN'T be!
What is it?
It CAN'T be!
What did you DO, Ray?
Oh, shit!
It's the Pittsburgh Penguin!
Not to mention …
I mean, look at it: Everything was fine with our system of government until the power structure was overturned by Hairless here.
Is this true?
Yes, it's true. This man has no hair.
Now here's your moment of misplaced vanity
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