Stevieslaw: The Khardashians New Hit Show

Stevieslaw: The Khardashian’s New Hit Show

Here at Stevieslaw, we are generally not fond of memoirs or reality TV. Sure, Smokey Diamond, for reasons of her own, faithfully watches “This Cat’s Life,” on Animal Story TV, but that’s about the extent of it for all of us.

That is all about to change as this Saturday night’s premier of The Khardashian’s in the Oval Office is sure to take the nation by storm. Stevieslaw has learned that the general theme of the show revolves around the Khardashians saving the world from a nuclear holocaust by—you know—being the Khardashians. In the first episode, the world is on the brink of nuclear war until Donald Trump notices Kim and Kourtney sun-bathing topless on the White House lawn.

Uplifting! There is a glimmer of hope America!

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Stevieslaw: Trump Tweets: Who’s the Moron Now!

Stevieslaw: Trump Tweets: Who’s the Moron Now!

EPA chief, Scott Pruitt, announced this morning that the U.S. has entered into an energy deal with China. “The U.S. will trade solar panels and wind and water turbines to China, said Pruitt, in exchange for their surplus coal.”

“China has embarked on an ambitious—some might say overly ambitious—plan to convert to “green energy” and to break with their traditional use of coal,” continued Pruitt. “They claim to be doing this with the intention of improving the lives of this and future generations. Hah! We haven’t, as yet, been able to uncover their true motives, but we are working on it.”

“They are practically giving us the coal—their cleanest, sweetest burning coal.” concluded Scotty.

Trump tweeted that this was the kind of sweet, America first deal, he had promised in his campaign.

“We really pulled one over on them,” Trump’s second tweet read, “Who’s the moron now.”

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Stevieslaw: The High Church of Whatever

Stevieslaw: The Birth of Whateverism

Now that organized religion is making a comeback under the Trump Administration, we at Stevieslaw think it’s high time we got in on the action. It’s hard to argue that picking up the check is against your religious beliefs when the people you are trying to stiff know fully well that you haven’t any and that you agree with the vast majority of Americans who believe god left with the good silver after emptying the bank accounts. I believe he just checked in at the local Marriott on a planet that still has a chance.

So, in honor of my mother, who when faced with people painted pink and parading as penguins on the local beach as the lead story on the 6:30 news, would simply say “whatever” and proceed to the kitchen to make more coffee, we give you “Whateverism.” Whateverites, when faced with something that makes their noses itch or that makes them vaguely uncomfortable can soothe their collective religious consciousnesses—can assure their non-complicity in the horribleness before them, by saying “whatever” and moving on.

So the next time your self-righteousness kicks in and you are planning on speaking for god—now doing the back stroke in the Marriott’s sumptuous swimming pool, just say “whatever” and you are off the hook.

Try it!

Donations to the High Church of Whatever will be tax deductible sooner or later. Any money over and above that needed to support our soon to be lavish life style will be used to stimulate the local economy—through losses at casinos, race tracks and with our local bookie, Benny. Give whatever.

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Stevieslaw: The Silence of the Grave

Stevieslaw: The Silence of the grave

I first met Johnny the Glock at my brother’s house in Florida. They were in the back yard shooting at tin cans and stray dogs and cats. My brother was a party goods wholesaler at the time, although occasionally he would help his suppliers collect overdue bills. He had recently been prosecuted for having a weapon and a series of felony convictions and the Feds had come down on him for the silencer he had on the weapon. In response, he had joined the NAHMCK—the National Association of Hit Men and Contract Killers. Johnny was Vice President of the group.

Smokey caught up with Johnny on the phone, just after the Hearing Protection Act of 2017 was postponed long enough to have the public forget the latest massacre—about 72 hours.

Johnny was candid, “Sure, the biggest complaint hit men and contract killers have is that discharging a firearm in a confined space is really loud. Most of our member are being treated for recurring headaches. A silencer would cure that.”

“But, more than that Smokey,” continued Glocky, “A silencer is a very useful tool of the trade. Would you ban the bricklayer’s trowel, the electrician’s wire cutter, or the safecracker’s stethoscope. Why deprive hardworkingamerican hitmen of a tool that makes their jobs so much safer and easier.”

“The other issue is job satisfaction,” said Johnny. “I love my work, but just think of how much more fun it would be if the people you shot were completely unaware of being shot, until they dropped to the ground like rocks. Mass shootings would be nearly silent until the screams started.”

Smokey walked away pretty satisfied with the interview. “It fit tidily in with my current picture of America,” she said sadly.

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Stevieslaw: God 101

A little goofiness for a dreadful Tuesday.

God 101

The big guy
created from
next to nothing,
a universe so unruly
that even he might
pull a string
and wonder what
might happen next,
with particles
so briefly here,
that even he
must pay great care
to watch them flame out
brilliantly, and distances
so vast that even he
considers it a trek to march
from end to end to catch
the view from yet another angle
of expansion. It takes
his breath away to consider
how awesome he must be.

I imagine him blowing smoke
from an ancient Meerschaum
into some black hole
or bending space and time
by reclining massively in Orion.
So sad the nearly lifelike chuckling
he can manage when he warps
is lost in the dark of little matter.

He brushes past the lively
worlds upon occasion,
but frankly, between you and me,
the endless singing,
murmured prayers
and protestations,
remind him vaguely of promises
unkept and make his big head ache—
for which he takes two aspirin,
each the size of Pluto, and drinks them
down with water
milked from many a moon.

 

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Stevieslaw: NRA slams Congress

Stevieslaw: National Rifle Association slams Congress

Walter LaPierre Jr., executive Vice President of the NRA, blamed Congress today for the shooting in Las Vegas. “Congress insists on maintaining a ban on weapons—bazookas, flame throwers, surface to air, and surface to surface missiles, that the average American needs in today’s world if he is going to defend himself,” said LaPierre. “If someone in the crowd at the festival had shot back with a surface to surface missile, this tragedy could have been easily adverted.

Republicans in Congress were generally supportive of LaPierre’s remarks. “We are working on it,” said Paul Ryan.

Chris Murphy, Democrat from Connecticut and a vocal advocate of strict gun laws, said, “This makes perfect sense to me. There is nothing too crazy for Americans, when it comes to guns.”

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Stevieslaw: Won’t you please just go away

Stevieslaw: Won’t you please just go away

Today’s tweetstorms about the NFL, Puerto Rico and N. Korea by the bad orange have me mourning for the America I thought I knew. And sure enough, what popped into my head was that Melanie Safka (also recorded by Ray Charles and Nina Simone) classic—the perfect song for Trump’s Amerika. Here are a few stanzas:

look what they done to my song ma
look what they done to my song
well it’s the only thing
that i could do half right
and it’s turning out all wrong ma
look what they done to my song

look what they done to my brain ma
look what they done to my brain
well they picked it like a chicken bone
and i think i’m half insane ma
look what they done to my song

wish i could find a good book to live in
wish i could find a good book
well if i could find a real good book
i’d never have to come out and look at
what they done to my song

 

Read more: Melanie – What Have They Done To My Song Ma Lyrics | MetroLyrics

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