Bridgework the dentist said,

Bruce and I, over a wee dram the other night, were discussing the latest in bridge peccadilloes. The latest of course being that of the redundantly named NJ Governor Chris Christie, Fort Lee, and the George Washington Bridge. Where it will all go is anyone’s guess, but this being New Jersey, my old home state, we should be prepared for an entertaining slew of theories, accusations, denials, finger-pointing, more denials, and ultimately not being any closer to the truth than when this story first broke.

But in digging through the archaeological rooms of our library, we discovered that bridges have played more rolls in bringing politicians down, or at least to heel, than assisting them in reaching across chasm-like aisles.

Who can forget the lovely Sarah Palin’s Bridge to Nowhere? To where did it lead her? Yes, she is still on the national scene pandering to those old white men who feel they would like to get her in a voting booth for some “fact-finding” or at least go moose hunting with her? Even cable TV tossed her aside, not once, but twice. Maybe she can get a gig as a guest host on Duck Dynasty which despite its questionable politics is quite funny.

Don’t even mention Chappaquidick. Oops, sorry we did. That was a tidy little bit of bridgework from which Teddy never fully recovered. Of course as with all bridges too far, it was littered with denials before the truth was eventually outed. What is it about bridges that lead pols to folly if not ruination?

And what about Congressman Wilbur Mills (R-Arkansas) and the Tidal Basin Scandal featuring stripper Fanne Foxe. Stopped for a traffic violation, old Fanne bolted the car and jumped into the Tidal Basin in Washington, DC to escape. They didn’t even wait to cross the bridge! That finally gave Fanny an amount of exposure she had never dreamed of previously.

History is filled with bridges which rather than do what they were originally constructed to do have achieved just the opposite. Just ask the River Kwai.

But at least, it helped Sir Alec Guinness’s career immensely.

Lawyer up.

Previously: “Pops, how’d you like to be a lawyer?”

And now: Pops was so deep into debt with Tranks, he had to just stand there and ask “What now?”

“Pops, you watch any late night TV? You know the stuff, meet girls, get rich, lawyers, that stuff?” Tranks asked. Barry in the meantime had brought a gift of corn dogs over to Pops as a reminder of what they had done together in the recent past. Barry was anything if not subtle.

Corn dogs…yum? Not really.

“Tranks, look, I don’t know anything about lawyers. And Barry, by the way, thanks for the corn dogs, Polly loves ’em.” Pops did not pick up on the subtlety that Barry was pushing.

“Pops, this little joint would be perfect for a PI lawyer to operate out of. Cheap, seedy, bad food, and it’s got a bathroom. It’s perfect.”

I have to admit it, Tranks was resourceful. Certainly not above the law, but hey, who here is? He wanted to install one of his not-quite-bright minions as a personal injury lawyer in Pops place. If I knew this was on the level, I’d vote for it. Lawyers, even the bad ones (well, how do you make that distinction?) tend to class up the place. Or would in Pops’ case. However, I’m pretty sure this guy would not have passed the bar, at least not one without alcohol sold in it.

“Look Pops, it’s a no-brainer. We’ll take only those cases in which the perp has been charged with resisting arrest. Do you know how easy it is to defend those? I’ve come up with a fool-proof defense.” Tranks claiming something was fool-proof was an oxymoronic statement, right up there with political ethics. But since I hadn’t had a good laugh that day, I was willing to listen and suspend disbelief if possible. Afterwards, possible was not the operational word, “required” was.

“OK, Tranks, this’ll be good. Let’s hear it,” I offered.

“Fog, you do speak after all. I may have to hire you next. Anyway, this is the deal. Say, I decide I want to smash you in the face and I do it. And I get you good. Do you stop me? No. Why? Because I did it unexpectedly. You didn’t know what I wanted or was going to do. Same thing with the cops. Let’s say now that I’m driving a little on the fast side. Ehh, maybe a lot. Anyway, a cop comes up behind me and flashes his lights. I pull over and stop. The cop gets out and walks over. With me so far? Good. He asks the dumb question, ‘Do you know how fast you’re going?’ Well, yeah, of course I do, I was driving the damn car. Figuring he just wanted to talk I politely answered him and told him it was nice talking with him but I had to be someplace soon. And I drive off, leaving him by the side of the road. Aside from driving maybe a little too fast. I haven’t done anything wrong, right? But he gets in his car, puts on the lights, calls out for back-up and catches me further down the highway and charges me with resisting arrest.

Dramatic re-enactment.

“That’s where this whole thing works. Like me smashing you in the face, you didn’t know what I was going to do. So, how did I know what he was going to do? Did he mention he was going to arrest me? No. Could I read his mind? No again. So how the hell can he get me for resisting arrest when I didn’t know that’s what he was going to do. It’s brilliant, I tell you. I would have had to have known that’s what he was going to do in order for me to resist it. Brilliant. I thought of that myself.”

Brilliant was right. In the same way a 15 watt light bulb is brilliant. This was not going to end well.

The world’s most disinterested man.

It’s true. I don’t always drink beer. I don’t care. I prefer wine. But what kind? I don’t much care about that. Your kids are sick? Too bad. No, that’s not right. I just don’t care.

 Not me. Who cares?

As I said, it’s true. I could care less. There isn’t much of anything I do care about. My investments perhaps, but they are so many and so large, I just don’t care anymore. My trophy wife? Take her! She’s already my fourth one – they’re all the same anyway.

If I sneeze, no takes notice. Mosquitoes don’t fear me. I’m not on the Pope’s Rolodex either. And that’s all OK.  I’ve never excelled in sports, educational attainment, work, you name it. You see, I just don’t care. What I did care about at one time was that I’d been very good at making money. Don’t bother asking how, my attorney says it’s none of your business. Did I hurt your feelings by saying that? So what? I don’t care. Money can have that effect on one.

The funny thing is that at one point in my unbelievably fortunate life, I did care. Almost, but not quite bleeding heart liberal care. About everything. But after a while, a certain sameness crept in. I kept looking for greater thrills and stimulation. Oh, I found it and wallowed in it dirtily and happily. I had it all and I didn’t care any more. At this point if you’re still with me, and if you’re not, who cares?, I’ll tell you what happened.

Pure and simple, I ran for elected office and won. Would you expect anything else? I was able to convince the electorate that I cared. Isn’t that a joke? But I did. Deeply. And they believed it. And now I had to make good on all those bloated but hollow election promises. Do you know how impossible that is?  I’m surprised no one has been hung for some of the things we are forced to say in order to get elected. I guess it’s not perjury unless there’s a crime involved. Even then.

So, the first day in office, I was inundated by sycophants wanting something or to attach themselves to what they perceived as a newly minted seat of power. It was flattering at first but became tiresome rather quickly. I had my issues I wanted to advance. But, nooo, they had their issues too. They wanted snow removal; new pet pooper laws; real estate reassessments; zoning variances; that kind of crap. Before long, I started not to care any longer. It was that easy. And believe me, that quick.

So, while I know there’s a beer company advertising it’s “World’s Most Interesting Man”, the truth of the matter is that’s not me and I don’t care. He’s never been elected to office. He probably knows better than that. However, if he was, he wouldn’t care. And neither do I. And neither should you.

Not guilty.

I just can’t stand to read the news anymore. Somehow or another, I’m terrified that the media will find out about my misdemeanors, felonies, and general poor behavior and have a field day with it. When one who is so famous and yet shuns the media spotlight, one lives in constant dread of being found out. One does. Really.

So, while waiting in the ne plus ultra waiting room of some mid-America airport, I happened upon the worst purveyor of such treacle, nay, trash – USA Today. While the paper itself has shrunk in on itself in size, it still harbors ambitions, however misplaced, of being a real newspaper. But one read of it will inform you otherwise. Unless you are entertained by the state-by-state snippets in the back of this publication passing for news, everything reeks of low-level sensationalism. Such is the fodder of the masses.

But read it I did for I am always in dread as mentioned before of being found out. Happily, there was no mention of my name or any of the aliases for which I’ve been known. Yet, I fear it is only a matter of time before things not perpetrated by me are soon ascribed to same. So it is with that in mind, I wish to inform all dear readers of the following:

I did not get Kate (or Pippa) Middleton pregnant. While an enticing proposition, I am innocent.

I did not get anyone elected. For that, one would have to vote. I categorically did not. Nor am I responsible for the “fiscal cliff”. That’s just hearsay.

I did not bench Mark Sanchez – whoever he is.

I have no friends with benefits. But they are grateful for universal healthcare.

I have never seen a trilogy of anything nor will I. I do have some pride left after all.

That is not me in those nude photographs, but I wish it was. Whoever it was was having a good time and looked really good.

I am not the love child of Dr. Phil and Roseann Barr. The resemblance, while remarkable, is accidental and unfortunate.

I did not, have not, will not leak any information to any intelligence gathering organization ever…unless a substantial advance is provided. And even then, I reserve the right of exaggeration as a negotiating tool.

I will never have a phone smarter than me.

I did see the movie ABBA, but I don’t talk anymore with the people who took me there. No use in encouraging them further.

I have never been caught in a compromising situation with Lindsay Lohan. Yet.

I have never made an illegal campaign contribution to a candidate who lost.

I have never cheated on a test unless you count paternity tests.

I do not believe in digital technology without latex gloves.

That’s about it. I could of course claim innocence for so much more and maybe some of that would be true, but it’s getting late and there are people outside with cameras and lights. What in hell do you think THAT’S all about?

I got your civility right here!

Thank the lord the debates and this damnable election are almost over. It’s no secret Bruce and I are from totally different political worlds. I, of course, am reasonable and willing to listen to the other side, if not necessarily capitulate. Bruce, on the other hand, is of the Attila the Hun school and believes in a scorched earth policy in virtually every negotiation. This is not to say he isn’t a warm, lovable, caring person. He is. But if you would try and determine our party affiliation from these descriptions, you would be wrong. Ah, dichotomy!

But as we anticipate the last debate, or if you’re reading this afterwards, there are too many subjects that the moderators (damnable in their own right) have not addressed. Our goal is to address them here because you know damn well no one else will. The gloves are off. Civility is left by the side of the road. Prepare yourselves. This is war.

         

Here are the questions the moderators are just to wussy to ask.

1. Why hasn’t anyone asked Obama the revealing question Clinton was asked: “Boxers or briefs?” We want to know. On the other hand, we already know what Romney favors.

2. Whatever happened to Romney’s dog Seamus?

3. Who decided that both Michelle Obama and Ann Romney wear pink at the last debate? This could be collusion at a very high level.

4. We know Obama loves basketball, but we don’t know anything about Romney’s likes or dislikes when it comes to team sports.

5. In the last campaign, Obama was chided for giving Michelle a “terrorist fist bump.” Why hasn’t anyone looked into his penchant for grabbing the other arm of the person he’s shaking hands with? Is this some secret code he uses?

6. Who dresses these guys? Their clothes look like they’re off the rack. Who ever wins should dress better if they’re going to play a part on the world stage.

7. What kind of cars do they drive? This could be very telling in light of the automotive bailout.

8. What was the first lie you ever told? Yeah, this may be a loaded question, but so what.

9. Shoe preference. Loafer or tie? Could be very revealing about their work ethic. Size could be a side issue.

10. Yankees or Mets? This is NY specific, but hey!

11. Crunchy or smooth peanut butter? Would be a good indication if they’re willing to take on the more difficult tasks of the job.

12. Peyton or Eli? Trick question. Extra credit: Giants or Jets?

13. St. Barts or Caymans? A revealing question.

14. What is your stance on the proposed pipeline from Elizabeth, NJ to Roanake, VA? What? You haven’t heard of this? Deduct major points on this one!

15. Will you go to Disneyland after you win?

If no one else is willing to ask the tough questions, we are. Always have, always will. Give us a call. Because, let’s face it – these aren’t any better or worse than the ones that will really be asked.

Take that Exxon! Screw you Light and Power Company!

Forget wind power! Ditch solar! Thermal and wave – not gonna happen! These are all solutions whose time has come and gone or just won’t ever come. Don’t waste your time and money on these. They’re no different than Enron.

(underconsideration.com)

We, the two Bruces, have figured it out. This is the ultimate answer to the world’s energy problems. No more drilling for fossil fuels – biotic or abiotic. We will not need them any more. We will not need to build a costly infrastructure to make this happen. We will not need the oil companies either unless we need to develop new conjugal lubricants.

What’s truly amazing is that this answer has been there all along. As a matter of fact, it’s been there since the beginning of time or at least the Romans.

There is just so much good news about this, we don’t know where to start. It’s ultimately sustainable, renewable, recyclable, all natural, low-cost, no more reliance on foreign governments (stable or unstable), simply put – it’s perfect!

OK, we know you’re just drooling at the prospect of shooting Exxon the middle finger once and for all and we’re with you. Just think about it – no more chance of another Exxon Valdez. No more BP catastrophes in the Gulf. Over. Done. Gone. Sayonara!

So what is this wonderful idea? Personal Methane Farms or PMF’s! Think about it. With everyone in charge of their own PMF, one will be able to create as much energy as needed. Running short? Eat more fiber. And the more fiber we eat, the better it is for farmers. That’s an additional boon to farmers whose own PMF’s can fuel AND fertilize their product thus creating more raw material for all of these personal PMFs. This circle will never be broken.

Early version of a PMF. (ecokaren.com)

The opportunity for additional benefits is enormous. If you have a large family, good for you – you now qualify for a healthy tax break. Pets? Oh, yeah – another deduction for you. Employer with multiple toilet stalls – can you smell the profits? There will be significant tax credits for those businesses who can prove that all they make is crap, foreign countries excepted.

On the other hand, all elected members of government, the Supreme Court, and lawyers will not be eligible for these tax breaks  or deductions nor will they be permitted to invest in PMFs. We’ve been taking their crap for so long, it’s payback time and man, doesn’t that feel good?

Now you’re thinking that’s great for lighting up my house, but what about my car? This is where some new but inexpensive infrastructure will be necessary. All cars will have to be converted to running on our own flatulence. Each PMF will need to be equipped with a capture tank that stores your gas as you drive! Then as you need it, eat some fiber rich bars and you can refuel your car anytime. If you do run out, highly unlikely, then will be numerous new mom- and pop-owned fiber convenient stores located everywhere in the country. This will also create valuable jobs helping the economy further. Folks, it’s time we took our future in our own hands and started farting around!

We’re not gonna take it! Who’s with us? (theonreel.com)

Stalkers beware!

Stalkers get a bad rap and with good reason. They don’t contribute anything to the economy with the exception of an increase in ski mask sales. Additionally, one can’t define stalkers by one stereotype. No, there are many different types. Bruce and I, or more properly for this entry, me and Bruce, have done breakthrough research on stalkers. It was eye-opening.

A long time ago, what is now considered stalking and a punishable crime, was what shy people did harmlessly. They were too afraid to approach the really pretty girl or guy and would hide behind trees to steal a glance. Right, Bruce? You remember that, I know you do! Oops, digression here.

(brooklynxrooftops.com)

Sometimes, they would eventually get up the nerve to approach the other person and ask them out on a date. Harmless so far, right? Absolutely. Every now and then they would succeed, get married, start a family, and then run for office for which they are completely unqualified for. Still, really pretty harmless. Look at Dennis Kucinich. Have you seen his wife? Major babe! Dennis ran for office and succeeded. Big time. See?

But the fly in the ointment, for which many of these shy people wound up needing (the ointment, not the fly!), is when they were rejected. They simply were not equipped to handle this and that led to some really off-the-wall behavior. The kind of stuff you see on Access Hollywood, supermarket tabloids, Fox News, and 60 Minutes. Oh yeah.

First it was celebrities being stalked by star-struck fans who only wanted to marry them. Hannibal Lector, where are you now that we need you?

“I’ll have some fava beans with that please. And a nice Chianti.”

Ah, the price of fame. Everybody wants to be a star or at least married to them or have their children or some such other depravity.

Don’t forget ex’s as a category. Getting a divorce and don’t really want one because you’re still mooning over that totally incompatible spouse of your? What do you do? Right… stalking, in the hopes that this misguided attention on your part on their behalf will win you back into their hearts. You are such a loser! That’s why they’re divorcing you. You need to pay more attention to your Beanie Baby collection.

One could call political candidates stalkers and be justifiable. They show up when you least expect them to; take you by surprise with their faux friendliness; and then screw you as soon as they can. Yeah, they’re stalkers alright!

And the biggest tool stalkers have now is Facebook. Oh, yeah. Admit it. You’ve been guilty of this. We know ’cause we know who’s been looking at us on FB! If you’re reading this, you better cop a plea because the next knock on the door won’t be a “Friend”, but he or she will know your name and will even kindly inform you of your rights.

(weknowmemes.com)

Now if that wasn’t enough, there are miscreants out there stalking complete strangers because they like the way they look or smell or dress or… well, you get the idea. Not a bad premise, but a totally stupid action. To those who do this…did you ever think that maybe these people are stalking you? Think about it. Why do you keep seeing them? Everywhere? It’s not coincidence. No, you are now the stalkee. How does does it feel now, loser? Yeah, right. Deal with it!

I don’t know much about art, but I know what’s good.

Ahh, the wonderful and ubiquitous internet. It has taken away the mortar from the bricks, replaced relationships with tweets, and taken porn out of seedy back room stores and put it smack dab (sorry, poor choice of words) into the home. It has also provided an outlet for all sorts of people whose work, thoughts, music, art, whatever, should never be on display. Anywhere! Anytime! But noooooo,  democratically (small D) it’s for everyone.

We have scoured (again, poor choice of words; the internet can never be cleaned) the internet for art. And truthfully, we were surprised. It was much worse than we thought. A candidate with an etch-a-sketch can do better. Don’t read anything into that as a political statement. We think it’s just as funny as a President slow-jamming the news. That’s the problem with media. Everything is immediate. In earlier times, if Ben Franklin farted, it wasn’t news for 3-4 weeks. By then the air had certainly cleared – both literally and figuratively. But we digress.

Here are some of the examples we found. We have some that we feel we can explain, others defy explanation. Perhaps you can help us.

Truer words were never spoken. We wish we came up with this first. It explains Thomas Kinkade, may he rest in peace.

The Mona Astronaut? Move on, this is not the art you’re looking for.

This is not a portrait of the Two Bruces. Rather it’s a photoshop representation of our two collective sets of parents. It’s a wonder they didn’t drown us at birth!

This hangs on the refrigerator door at Bruce’s house. He is so proud!

Finally, someone had the guts to start censoring this crap. The rumor is that it’s the same “art” that’s on Bruce’s fridge door.

We’re not certain. If it was a different vegetable, we’d be inclined to say it’s our new turn(ip) table for playing the Wiggles.

Anyone?

And finally…

Nobody doesn’t like Jello! Right? Right?

See? Anything can be “art.” Like in politics, say it loud enough, long enough, and with a enough of conviction and you too will have followers willing to drink your “kool-aid.” It’s worked before, it’ll work again.

Why stop at 50 states?

For a country that was created with such promise and hope, the good old USA has been something of an underachiever of late. The boom years of adding states willy-nilly are over. We seem to have lost our mojo. The last time we added states, really annexed them, was in 1959 when we decided Alaska and Hawaii should start paying taxes too. That’s 53 years ago! Have we run out of white thread to add stars to the flag? Come on now. There is plenty of low-hanging fruit ripe for the picking and adding to the union. If we’re smart, we might get one with oil and solve the whole damn mess we’re in.

So, where do we start? The countries bordering us make the most sense in the short term. Currently we are still stronger than they are and can quickly over-run them and make them the 51st and 52nd states. Immediately our tax rolls increase and the deficit goes down. The immigration problem goes away. Does it really take the Two Bruces to figure this one out? No wonder we’re in the condition we’re in.

OK, so Canada and Mexico are in. What’s the next target? This will take some clear and cogent thought. Who has the best fast food restaurants we’d like to see here?

First off, with the growing Latino population, we must find a way to serve them as well since they will be voters too. That turns out to be an easy solution as well: Cuba and Puerto Rico.

         The 53rd and 54th states.

Puerto Rico is already part of the US but denied rights for too many years. They’ve wanted statehood for quite some time now, but who knows why, and we should grant it to them. Cuba is another no-brainer. First of all, we can finally get some good cigars here. Secondly, their mechanics take a back seat to no one at keeping cars running way past their buy-by-date. And their food is fantastic!

So, now that we’ve picked the tree bare of the easy stuff, who’s next? In the spirit of true expansionism and William Randolph Hearst, we propose making all of South America a state. Hell, it’s already an America! With all the drought going on, having our own rain forest will solve that problem! Think of how cheap coffee will be, that is until General Foods gets their hands on it. If you ask us, and you should have by now, they are taking that “General” name just a little too seriously. Wait. That’s it. That’s pure genius Bruce. Why didn’t I think if that? One small problem: does it become one big honking state or do we break it up into many? Oooh, more political races – what fun!

Going forward, the US government will now take applications and grant statehood to corporations. Of course, they will need to jump through all the hoops immigrants do in order to achieve this. Then, they’ll have to wait five years before getting their permanent work permits. In that time, the government will tax them unmercifully thus eliminating the deficit. This is so in keeping with the Citizens United decision that it gives us goosebumps.

But the benefits don’t stop there. They will have to have free elections, just like the rest of the country does. The voters, paid off as well as anyone, can decide who they want to run the state/corporation’s next administration. Damn the stock price, we want health care! We want child care! We want health clubs! We want better coffee in the employee lounge! ARE YOU LISTENING?

Do this and the USA will have its mojo back in spades. And nobody will screw with us either because they know if they do, we’ll grant them statehood.We’re back, baby! And better than ever!

Is that an election or are you just happy to see me?

While we are firmly in favor of free elections (if indeed such a thing exists any longer with the Citizens United vote ruling by the Supremely Incompetent Court), we can’t help believe they really are nothing but beauty contests. There is no swimsuit competition, thankfully, though the humiliation candidates will put themselves through defies description much less an understanding.

The Supremely Incompetent Court.

We, and this means you too, have our choice of “electable” boobs – no, not the kind teenagers and middle-aged men gawk at in the real beauty contests (we like them too), we’re talking about the vaporous kind enhanced by DuPont. Each one of these over-promising and incredibly under-delivering dolts has only thing in common with the rest of their brethren dolts – and that is a towering ego. Is it a compensation problem? Possibly. But the problem is, is that each one of these buffoons has a cast of well-heeled minions willing to lay down their dollars, if not their lives, on the lines to forward asinine agendas. Hey, that sounds like a punk rock group – “Ladies and Gentlemen, please give it up for the Asinine Agendas singing their newest hit song…” – blah, blah, blah.

Have you ever met a candidate running for office in full heat? It’s not’s a pretty thing. Also, if you shake their hand, quickly get an antibiotic injection,  and please, at the very least get some hand sanitizer and use the whole bottle. You don’t want to spread this crap around. These guys have been known to be harmful to pregnant and nursing mothers.

Know that if you vote, and we encourage voting as it perpetuates the concept of a free society, your vote will be counted. By whom?  Hell if we know. When? That’s another good question. These can easily be answered by determining how much you paid to your alderman. Remember, they want to be loved and they also want your vote. One though does not instantly confer the other.

All-purpose voting booth and urinal.

So all of these doofuses, (doofi?) want your vote. They’ll smile at you prettily and answer all your questions before the election. Try and reach them after a major snowfall closes your street. You’ll have a better chance finding them hiking the Appalachian trail.