IURL -- In UnReal Life

I'm not buying it for one split second. Not having it. There's something going on and frankly I don't like it. Where's this blind opening going, you may ask? And I'm glad you did.

There's this notion floating around that the President's poll numbers are dropping like a recently loaded oversized diaper. And as a result the Democrats are most assuredly going to take back the House, and possibly the Senate, come this November. 

Moreover, even if the Adjudicated Rapist/Twice Impeached/Convicted Felon behind the Resolute Desk manages to thwart mail-in voting, there's enough rage and outrage at the current administration that victory is a foregone conclusion. 

Well, I'm old enough to remember way back to 2016, when the pundits said the same thing about Hillary Clinton...

"There no way America would elect a con man to the White House," -- Ted Cruz

"He's an inveterate liar, with very small hands," -- Marco Rubio

"If we elect Donald Trump he will bring down the party," --Dead Lindsey Graham

It's not as if the media is lying. I just don't believe the pollsters have been polling the right people. Well, certainly not the field reporters sent out to take the temperature of American political sentiment. So who does have it right?

These guys, a pair of NYC comedians/journalists who have their finger on the bleating aorta of the America's heartland.

Naturally it's the funny guys who are able to snuff out The Truth. I've been following them for quite a while and have hit my head on the table several times, one requiring a large ice pack and almost necessitated a trip to the ER. 

Here's how one memorable exchange went:

"Trump has been in charge of the military since 2016...Biden was just a puppet, he might not have even been real...Trump was running things all along and taking care of our country..."

"But what about the inflation and the war in Iran?"

"That was Obama."

"I'm confused."

"You have to do your own research."

Even if each of us voted 100, 200, 900 times, it would not be enough to cancel out these cultish, ignorant Bible Thumping zombies. And there are millions of them. 

The insanity is overwhelming. Which I believe is the point of all this. 

If you ask me, the idea that people who put faith in Conspiracy Theory are just on the fringe and don't represent mainstream opinion is as worthless as a Trump phone or meme coin. THEY (the real Conspiracy Theorists) only wanted us to believe that to lull us into a trap. And implant microchips in our brain. And put us in Medbeds so they could feed on our natural fluids...

Wait, a minute... 

What happens in Vegas gets boasted about on the hotel web page

I hate Las Vegas. 

Too many people. Making too much noise. Smoking too many cigarettes. And losing too much money they simply don't have. It's a hot living hell right here on Earth. 

But it's a dry hell.

I didn't always hate it. On the few occasions I was sent there for work, I kinda loved it. I was being paid to be in Sin City. And all my expenses were being covered. $15 beer, sure. $92 Rib Eye Steak, medium rare, please. $100 Blackjack Minimum, hit me.

No one is footing the bill for me anymore. Not Vizio, not adidas, not Infiniti, and not Legends in Concert, the premier showcase for tribute bands and 18 different Michael Jackson lookalikes.

Nevertheless I'm headed there in December. For a concert, yes, but also to visit The Sphere and enjoy what I'm told is a one of a kind viewing experience of The Wizard of Oz.

Last week I booked a hotel room at The Venetian. Not one of the premier hotels on the strip but not the bargain basement either, like the still standing and unexplainable Stratosphere. Before pulling the trigger I came across this on their website...

Damn, this place is like heaven. At first glance, it would appear we are going to be treated like Pasadena Royalty. But upon closer examination, it appears the marketing folks at The Venetian have taken liberties and stacked the deck in their favor.

Let's have look shall we? 

Oh they have tile flooring in public areas. Isn't that nice? I believe Sizzler Restaurants also have tile flooring but they don't brag about it on the menu.

Braille signage, I'm happy they're taking care of their sight-challenged customers, but does that merit a mention? Or their ridiculously high resort fee?

Eco-friendly toiletries? I'm curious. But not that curious. Once my waste product disappears down the porcelain hole, it's gone. Out of body, out of mind.

Handrails. In stairways! And in hallways!! Not like those bums at the Flamingo or the Tropicana, where if you get overserved, you're on your own. Also, did you put those handrails in because of OSHA or was it to delight your discerning luxury-minded guests?

I warn young people about overpromising and the hazards resume inflation. Perhaps hotels should heed the same advice.

"Look honey, there's toilet paper in the bathroom."

"No way!!!"

The Commodification of Hate

Went for a little bike ride last Sunday. Just 32 miles from Wilderness Park in Downey down the bike path to Seal Beach. It's a quaint little town that still has that old-timey beachiness about it. It's a perfect place for Ms. Muse and I to sit outside Javatini, enjoy a cup of coffee and split a muffin or scone, depending on availability. 

On this occasion we met Rita, a 70 year old teacher who does volunteer work with the Guide Dogs of America.

She lives near by the coffee shop and was willing to share her beautiful dog with us, a retired Golden/Lab named Ally. Not sure how it came up -- I probably blurted something about Lake Ontario -- and she seized the opportunity to tell us about a store up the street called Beachin'.

The store actually has less to to do about beaching, surfers and the cool, laid back style that the name connotes and much more about Bitchin' about people who have no love for Trump, MAGA or dare I say, even America.

They peddle hatred. 

Not behind the cloak of a white sheet like their predecessors. But out in the open. Proudly. As if ignorance, myopia and fascism were something to boast about. It is if you want to let the world know you're a complete maroon.

Naturally, we had to see for ourselves. That's where we ran into Frank Ryan, owner/proprietor/Grand Wizard of this shit shop. Here's small sampling of his "wares"...

I'd show you more virulent crap Frank was pimping, but I don't want to get in more trouble with the Social Media Thought Police who have already blocked me and jailed me many times over for calling this an ugly reincarnation of Munich, circa 1933.

Walking around the store, I could hardly contain my disgust at the Troglodyte Trash. There was the obligatory misogyny, the juvenile homophobia and ironically enough, calls for retribution against pedophiles and pedophilia, oblivious to the fact that their merkin-sporting leader who has bragged about his sexual predation, is mentioned in the Epstein Files more times than Epstein.

I finally caught Frank's eye, probably while he was gift wrapping some swastika armbands, and said, "Nice store you got here. Doing a great job of furthering the cause of the Fourth Reich." 

His retort, if you can call it that, was to make some lame crack about my lycra bike shorts.

I shouldn't have been surprised. The default of all Red Hats is always some version of chest-beating male toxicity, again oblivious to the fact their octogenarian demented leader painted over with 10 lbs. worth of make up prances around doing his jack off dance to the Village People.

Before I exited the story, I suggested Frank make a visit to a library. Any library.

His perfect self-own, "I don't need a library, Pal, I have everything I need to read right here."

You win Frank, I can't and won't argue wth that, little man.

Partially unredacted: Transgender Women Are Just Ret***ed F*gs.

Speechless.

Ne do të shkojmë në Shqipëri.

This is Tirana's Rock. Chances are you've never seen or heard of it. Unless, like my youngest daughter Abby, you had an itch to visit Albania. More on that in a second.

The Rock is not a rock at all. It's a mixed use tower that, at 26 stories tall, will house office, commercial and residential spaces. It's still under construction, as evidenced by the crane at the top, which appears to be stabbing the visage of a man, Gjergi Kastrioti, an Albanian nobleman of the 15th Century. He also fought in the Albanian/Ottoman Wars, an earlier version of the rift between Christians and Muslims. 

I'm going to go out on a limb and suggest he probably didn't like Jews.

That's neither here nor there. Actually it's there. Way over there. Why you ask (I know I did) has my daughter flown close to 10,000 miles to go Albania? 

The simple answer is to go hiking. 

There's plenty of outstanding hiking here in the states, one could argue. But like her father, my daughter has a bit of wanderlust. It's why after living in Denver for a few years, she came home briefly to Los Angeles. And then packed up everything to go live in Brooklyn. 

I did the same thing, only in reverse, when I, a New Yorker thru and thru, ventured westward to California not knowing a soul in SoCal. And why my mother and her sister, left home in Glasgow to come across the pond while they were 17 and 19 respectively.

I suppose I should be thankful that Abby, and her sister Rachel, have a curious nature. Adventurous, as well.

"Here, have some tave kosi, the mutton was just slaughtered this morning."

I am grateful she is willing to get out of her comfort zone. And proud. I wish she would explore her creative side and get back to painting. Or writing. (She's won't acknowledge it but she is darker and funnier than I'll ever be.)

But, I'm also her father, and will likely be on pins and needles for the next 10 days worrying about her. That's not just my nature, that's my job. And only exhaling when she lands safely back at JFK airport. Or Donald Trump Airport in honor of JFK, should he be inclined.

"Ruaju dhe shijoje kohën me Abby-n. Të dua."