Tonight we will ring in 2018 at home in McLean, Virginia with my in-laws from North Carolina. New Year’s eve is also my wedding anniversary. Twenty years ago, Leslie and I decided to walk across the street in Old Town Alexandria and get married. Since we dated for eight years, I count the anniversary as our 28th while Leslie insists on counting this year as our 20th anniversary. We will toast our anniversary and the New Year (as we did 20 years ago) with a bottle of Schramsburg Cremant.
This year will ring in without one tradition . . . and it is an improvement. I have previously complained about the unfunny and often raunchy performance of Kathy Griffin on CNN. After Griffin’s disgusting image of a beheaded Donald Trump and then her bizarre press conference with Lisa Bloom, Griffin has been dumped by Anderson Cooper and CNN. She has posted a rather bizarre videotape which again blames everyone but herself and says that no one has ever faced the type of blacklisting that she is now facing:
I expect that much of the problem in finding work as a comedian is the distinct absence of anything funny in these videotapes — or Griffin’s continued controversies with neighbors and others.
I have previously admitted that I have a low tolerance for raunchy sex skits and jokes on New Year’s Eve shows. I can be viewed as a bit prudish on such issues (my Midwestern roots no doubt) but many kids stay up to watch the ball drop in New York. I have previously had to turn off CNN because my kids were watching with me.
Tonight will set some records for cold and I will happily (as usual) remain in my toasty warm house with the family. Tomorrow we will be making our traditional soup for New Year’s and I will post our annual “State of the Blog” column. Until then, have a fun and safe (and warm) New Year’s Eve!
Shocking news coming! New York City will be COMPLETELY SUBMERGED BY DAWN of January 1, 2018!
Or so said Global Warming Expert Dr. James Hansen back in 1988 in his testimony before Congress. He also predicted a heat wave at the start of the new year!
As Dr Hansen put it, “The West Side Highway [which runs along the Hudson River] will be under water. And there will be tape across the windows across the street because of high winds. And the same birds won’t be there. The trees in the median strip will change.” Then he said, “There will be more police cars.” Why? “Well, you know what happens to crime when the heat goes up.”
Of course, in New York shortly after midnight, New Year’s Day, millions of people are hanging out in Manhattan. And it’s 11 degree Fahrenheit. So much for Dr. Hansen’s global warming predictions.
However, Dr. Hansen was right about one thing. There are more police cars in New York City at the start of the New Year than there were previously. But this has absolutely nothing to do with any purported Global Warming. Rather, it has to do with the influx of Islamocommunazi migrants who have been welcomed into New York, and the corresponding rise in terrorist threats. In short, the same Leftists proclaiming the Global Warming Hoax are the ones demanding that more terrorists be admitted into the US so that they can murder Americans.
You…better not shout!
You better not cry.
Better not fart I’m telling you why….
Donald Trump is coming to town.
Happy New Year to All. Here is a nice Russian Poem with which to end the old year and begin the new year!
‘TWAS THE DAY AFTER CHRISTMAS
‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the House, not a member was stirring, not a mistress’s blouse. The coffers for campaigns were hung with great care, Knowing that lobbyists would soon be there.
The Senators were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of tax cuts danced in their heads. And Paul Ryan with his Ayn Rand novel, and Mitch McConnell in his shell Had settled in to survive a possible 2018 Hell.
When on Pennsylvania Avenue there arose such a clitter, It made so much noise, it had to be Twitter. Away to their I Phones people flew like a bird- Would his words ever make sense, or be something absurd?
(The moon on the breast of the new fallen snow Reminded The House that health insurance must go!)
Then looking on their screens but what should appear But a miniature sleigh, drawn by people quite weird. With a small-handed driver, and his hair in a clump, They knew in a second, it must be St. Trump.
More rapid than a Lamborghini they came And the orange-haired one, he called them by name: “Now Mnuchin! Now Conway! Now Pruitt and Kelly! On Bannon! On Mike Pence – you look great on the Telly! To the homes of the rich! And to my friends, too! We’re not here for the masses; we’re here for the few!”
As people who’re dodging subpoenas may fly, As their legal bills stack all the way to the sky, So on to the millionaires’ houses they flew, With a sleigh full of cash and post-Christmas tweets too!
And then in a twinkling, what appeared on TV, But the prancing and pawing by St. Trump in great glee. And faster than Usain Bolt runs a 100 meter dash, Down through the chimneys came boatloads of cash.
The cash was all dressed up in bows from Trump U, Tied by St. Trump himself, while at Mar A Lagu. He held cash in bundles pulled out of large sacks, And he looked like he’d swallowed ten thousand Big Macs.
His hair how it twinkled, his dimples quite scary, His cheeks were quite pasty, like some Steven King fairy. His very large mouth chirped away like the birds, Not stopping to think before spitting out words. It was almost as if he was singing a chorus, Saying if we are are rich he will never ignore us.
The stump of a straw he held tight in his lips, He drank sodas galore and ate lots of chips. He had a broad near his face, those are his words not mine, And she shook every which way, which St. Trump said was fine. He was chubby and plump, never worked out at all, He almost looked Russian, But he was slightly too tall.
A wink of his eye and a nod from his head, Convinced all those rich folks they had nothing to dread. And he filled up their stockings, doing his work; Having helped out his rich friends, he turned like a jerk, And waving a finger to the CNN crowd,
he flew out the chimney as high as a cloud. He sprung to his sleigh team, and while watching them grovel, He twittered like Scrooge from the Charles Dickens novel.
And he shouted as he went home, and quacked like duck: “Merry Christmas if you’re rich! The rest of you tough luck!”
“Twas the day after Christmas” – absolutely the best re-writing ever. Thanks