Parabolic Magaholic

Back in the day, as they say, long before the fray, the tale is told. . . from lips of old, of the parable of the president, to wit: Now when they told Dwight David, he went and stood on the top of Capitol hill , and lifted his voice and called out. Listen to me, oh men of America, , so that the God in whom we trust will listen to you. Here’s one of my officers; he’s going to tell you about the MIComplex that we need to keep an eye on. And all was well for a time, times, and half a time. But be careful: in this day of cathode rays, and power plays and rows and flows of silicon hair and world-wide webs and hassles in the air and collateralized debts and moss-backed securities. . .it’s not what you think, and things are not what they seem. . . “Once upon a time, the trees went forth to anoint a king over themselves, and they said to the gipper tree, will you step into the Oval of power and commence to takin’ care of bizness for us? The Gipper said: “Are you kidding? I’m done here. I believe I’ll don my hat and ride into the sunset.” And so they said to the Bush: will step into the Oval and commence takin’ care of bizness for us? But Bush, his demeanor demeaned, replied: “Sorry, guys; it ain’t gonna happen. I did my time; but then Bill and Hilary came along and sent me back to the land of milk and honey.” And so they said to other Bush: will you step up to the oval and commence to takin’ care of business for us? But Bush 2 said: “It’s been nice knowin’ you, and we’ve had a good run and all that, and anyway all hell is breaking out on Wall street and methinks we’ll just step aside and let Barak, the celestial transponder, fly in and see if the mullahs and movers and the shakers and the bakers and the candlestick-makers can get this turned around again.” Finally, the trees said to the bumple-trumple, “come and do your thing; you showed us on 5th avenue you could take potshots and nobody squawk about it. Step up to the butch masters and show us what you got!” So he did. Waving his hands side to side, the bumple-trumple proclaimed: “If you on truth social are anointing me as king over you, come and make your booty-pie in my artful Deal . . .”(You’ve heard of the New Deal, right? This is the Wheeler-Deal.)

“But if not, may the rebels come out from their brambles and consume the cherry trees that line the boulevards of Oz, or the jersey shore, on putin’s don-bass door or whatever floats our boat, formerly your ship state, until our ship comes in again and we can make this country grate its teeth again . . . you heard about the fake news, right?” (ed.)Fake news is on the right, ever since foxy-woxy trumpy-tail stole the vines from the post and the times. Just sayin’. . . and now the Dems are texting me that trump just declared MSNBC illegal, as if he could do such a thing! In your dreams, donnie, in your dreams! That’s what happens when the trees turn to a bramble gambler to be their king. King of what? maybe maraslago; that’s about it. Maybe he can rig a chess match with Vlad the Mad and they can push their pawns and pieces around on the chess boards of time and authoritarian slime. If what I tell rings a bell, you can turn to Judges 9 in the Old book and take a look. Parables don’t repeat, but they do rhyme, some of the time. Glass half-Full