Archive Page 2

Ain’t No Mongo Low Enough

Mongo Explains About The Rooskis

someone’s got it in for me
they’re planting stories in the press
whoever it is i wish they’d cut it out quick
but when they will i can only guess

they say i shot a man named gray
and took his wife to italy
she inherited a million bucks
and when she died
it came to me

i can’t help it
if i’m lucky

Europe Flees Mongo

Mongo is at present wobbling around Europe, and things are proceeding weirdly.

First, Mongo’s tummy got upset, on the transatlantic airplane. The doctors sought to provide him with Medicine, to relieve the nausea. But they got mixed up, the doctors, there in the Medicine Bag, and so instead of the dramamine, they administered to Mongo jimson weed. This explains why Mongo is now trying to shake hands with marble busts that have no hands.

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Another photo from the Jimson Experience, seen below, documents Mongo gazing into the crowd, and there perceiving his old friend and mentor, Roy Cohn, a man long dead, prancing about in a tutu.

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Below, we see Mongo coming off the airplane, trying not to hurl, as Mrs. Mongo Vol. III holds the flowers she will place on Mongo’s grave. The ring on the third finger of her right hand symbolizes that she is a widow. She just couldn’t wait.

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In this photo, a giant bronze War Man comes to life, and prepares to pinch a big stinking loaf, as Mrs. Mongo Vol. III explains to those assembled why she needs to be a widow. She is speaking in Slovenian, so Mongo does not know what she is saying; he thinks she is recounting the time she was able to locate his micropenis without an electron microscope.

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Giant bronze War Men springing to life is typical of the sorts of disruptions of space/time that occur wherever Mongo goes. Below, we see another: members of the “Indian Wars”-era 7th Cavalry, coming out of a time tunnel, in order to experience Mongo.

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A new Pew poll of the people of the G20 nations reveals that 81% trust German Chancellor Angela Merkel to do the right thing, as compared to the 11% who trust Mongo—all of the latter are grievously ill, and need to be placed At Once into a Facility.

The poll also disclosed that more people trust Howdy Doody to guide world affairs, than Mongo, and that the vast majority “would sleep better at night” knowing that Charles Manson was the president, rather than Mongo.

Bombs Away

It’s the Fourth of July, people. Let’s have bombs!

Ye gods. I am not exactly sure precisely what those Italians were up to, but I do know that George Plimpton would approve. Because, until his death in 2003, Plimpton was known, among other things, as the most avid amateur fireworks enthusiast of all the Americans. Except, as I once saw him confess on a television, what Plimpton most enjoyed were not really “fireworks”: “they’re more, frankly, bombs.”

As a young man, Plimpton was plucked out of life, and forced into the United States military, where he was eventually sent to Italy as a tank driver. Fortunately for him, the tanks stopped rolling soon after he arrived. He then trained as a demolitions expert. And never thereafter did he lose his taste for things that go Boom. Except he didn’t want to Boom to hurt anybody. His aim, with his Booms, was to wow. Those Italians in the video above, they are Plimpton’s spiritual children. And maybe—who knows?—his biological ones.

In 1975, after half a lifetime of fun bombs, Plimpton announced he would seek to establish a world record for the largest-ever “firework.” He assembled a 720-pound roman candle he dubbed “Fat Man”; the behemoth was expected to rise some 1000 feet in the air, and then produce a massive starburst.

Instead, Plimpton more or less recreated the infamous Battle Of The Crater of July 30, 1864, when Union forces, attempting to break the siege at Petersburg, set off “mines” beneath Confederate positions; these exploded with such force they opened up a yawning hole in the ground, into which many Union troops charged, never to come out again, as the irredeemable blood-sucking slave-owning traitors simply fired down upon them, as they attempted to scrabble out.

Similarly, Plimpton’s 1975 “Fat Man” didn’t make it into the air, but instead blasted a crater 35 feet wide and 10 feet deep; it subsequently entered the Guinness Book of World Records as a record-setting “lowest firework.” Plimpton’s next attempt at the record, fired at Cape Canaveral, did make it 50 feet into the air, but meanwhile shattered more than 700 windows in nearby Titusville, Florida.

Plimpton was in constant tension with the local constabulary in the Hamptons, as he believed just about any occasion festive enough for him to get into his bottomless bomb stash and start firing the things off in and around his Wainscott beach house. Any old excuse would do. Whether it be his annual Bastille Day celebration, or the fact that Teddy Kennedy had lumbered over for a quick drink or nine. When the bombs started going off, inevitably the police would arrive. Plimpton would claim to the gendarmes that he possessed the required permits—whether he did or not—and also note, correctly, that he had been proclaimed Fireworks Commissioner by New York Mayor John Lindsay. This was a purely unofficial post, but Plimpton clung to it proudly, and insisted it was Real.

Sometimes people would get snitty: one guy claimed an “ember” from a Plimpton bomb-bash had “singed” his arm, and so sued Plimpton for $11 million. Plimpton replied that “anyone who has an arm valued at $11 million should be pitching for the Chicago White Sox.” According to Plimpton, this lawsuit went away after “I got a call from Frank Sinatra’s lawyer, who had heard about the case and asked me who was handling it. I said my father’s firm was, and he said ‘Well, you’ve got the wrong people. You should get a tough lawyer to countersue and suggest he is causing you psychological damage. And if that doesn’t work, I will make some phone calls to people in Chicago.'”

furthur=>

Sundown Town

Strange Fruit

Ask Google the question “who predicted Trump winning the election?” and you get 19.3 million results.

Most are about professors with oddball prediction systems, or the rare pollster who got it right, or the liberal filmmaker Michael Moore, who famously sent out a mass gut-level warning about Donald Trump’s appeal last summer.

One name that doesn’t come up: Christopher Parker

“Nobody in the media has called me up and said ‘you were right,’” says Parker, a political-science professor at the University of Washington for the past 11 years.

He correctly foresaw in September 2015 trump-kkk-klanthat Trump would win the GOP nomination—eight months before Trump clinched it.

Then, last September, Parker told anyone who would listen, which was not many, that Trump could well win the presidency. And now, most important, new research shows Parker was more than just prescient about the outcome. He was nearly alone in nailing why it would happen.

“It’s what the data showed and what history would suggest, so I didn’t see it as some out-there guess,” Parker shrugs now. “It seemed like a no-brainer to me.”

On Monday researchers released the most comprehensive survey data yet aimed at understanding what actually went down in Election 2016. The group includes academics but also right-leaning outlets such The Heritage Foundation and left-leaners like the Center for American Progress.

What’s different about the Voter Study Group is that it tracks the attitudes and votes of the same 8,000 adults since before the 2012 election, and then throughout the 2016 election. So it’s like the nation’s largest, longest political focus group.

The story we’ve told ourselves—that working-class whites flocked to Trump due to job worries or free trade or economic populism—is basically wrong, the research papers released this week suggest.

They did flock to Trump. But the reason they did so in enough numbers for Trump to win wasn’t anxiety about the economy. It was anxiety about Mexicans, Muslims and blacks.

This is the drum Parker has been banging for years. His 2013 book on the tea party, “Change They Can’t Believe In,” with 17confederate1-master768professor Matt Barreto (now at UCLA), used survey data to show it was not a small government movement as advertised. It was more about America being stolen from “real Americans”—a reaction triggered by the election of President Obama.

“I’ve got three words for you: scared white people,” Parker says. “Every period of racial progress in this country is followed by a period of retrenchment. That’s what the 2016 election was about, and it was plain as it was happening.”

Worries about the economy, free trade and the rest were no more important in 2016 than in previous elections, but racial resentment spiked.

It makes sense, considering the candidate himself was maligning Mexicans and openly calling for banning Muslims.

What’s doubly interesting is that Parker suspects the reason his research gets overlooked is because he is black. He senses it’s assumed that as a black man he must be biased about race, or is too quick to invoke it.

“I get a whole lot more respect over in Europe,” Parker told me. “There, it’s all about the ideas and whether my social science is sound. It’s not about who I am, like it so often is here.”

“I get it, nobody wants to be told what they don’t want to hear,” Parker says. “People want there to be a more innocent explanation, about jobs or trade or something. But sorry, everyone—it just isn’t there. My plea to people is we ought to start focusing on what’s real.”

Spaced

A little something from the Bezos enemies of the people:

President Trump’s ceremony Friday to bring back the National Space Council began to confuse people even before it took place.

“At some point in the future, we’re 636205614391785148656170243_Screen Shot 2017-01-20 at 8.57.50 PMgoing to look back and say how did we do it without space?” is how the president put it.

“The human soul yearns for discovery,” Trump said. “Our journey into space will not only make us stronger and more prosperous, but will unite us behind grand ambitions and bring us all closer together.

“Wouldn’t that be nice? Can you believe that space is going to do that?”

When Mike Pence was a congressman, he once chaired a Republican study group that recommended canceling NASA’s space exploration program—no moon or Mars trips—to save money.

But Pence’s 2005 plan didn’t go anywhere, and on Friday, he said he was “honored and frankly enthusiastic” about leading the National Space Council.

Trump assured those gathered donaldalienthat “Mike is very much into space.”

“This is going to launch a whole new chapter for our great country,” Trump said near the end of his speech.

Then he sat down at a table and opened the executive order.

“I know what this is,” he said. “Space!”

Beside him, Buzz Aldrin chimed in with a quote from the astronaut character Buzz Lightyear from the movie Toy Story.

“Infinity and beyond!” Aldrin said.

Everyone laughed.

Then Trump added some lines of his own.

“This is infinity here,” he said. “It could be infinity. We don’t really don’t know. But it could be. It has to be something—but it could be infinity, right?”


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