Animatronic Biden Enters Olympics as Transgender Biden – Crushes the Competition in Women’s Track and Field

Resurfacing after his escape from Disney World, Animatronic Biden (AB) has taken the 2021 Summer Olympics, women’s decathlon by storm.  Wearing a blue wig but still dressed in the business suit Disney equipped him with, AB has broken women’s records in all events.  The sight of the geriatric cyborg racing down the track in wingtips while his competitors are lashed by his tail wind has become a familiar one.  Many of the women withdrew in tears from the remaining events and even the transgender women were heard to complain bitterly that AB was no woman.  But such is life in these enlightened times.

The only truly controversial moment of the first day came during the javelin throw.  When the projectile disappeared over the horizon the track officials were temporarily at a loss as to how to measure the throw.  Luckily a news service drone was speared by the javelin and the camera output and telemetry were used to document the event.  The 2.3 miles (~ 3700 meters) distance represents a very healthy increase to the previous Olympic record of 90.57m.  But AB (or as she’s now known Jocelyn Biden) declared, “Oh come on man, I would’ve broken the 10,000-meter boundary.  This is the work of the patriarchy for sure.”  But the officials decided to leave well enough alone.  To avoid further issues all UAV’s will be grounded for the upcoming shotput and hammer throws.  And the equipment for these events will be equipped with trackable GPS devices to facilitate measurement and also provide documentation for civil and criminal lawsuits in the case of further impacts.

After it became clear that Jocelyn would be the 2021 decathlon champion, CNN’s Chris (Fredo) Cuomo attempted to get a comment from 1976 decathlon gold medal champion Caitlyn Jenner.  But all Jenner would say was, “That’s too weird even for me, dude.”

CNN had Don Lemon interviewing the dazzling automated athlete.  But an ugly moment occurred when Jocelyn attempted to sniff Don’s hair and massage his shoulders.  Some error in the calibration of Jocelyn’s grip must have been present because she accidentally tore the vivacious Mr. Lemon’s arms off at the shoulder.  Prompt medical response was able to save the veteran reporter’s life but this injury has made his job at the network much more difficult.  But CNN being the progressive and compassionate place that it is has begun assembling a team of assistants who will surround Don and provide every service that a man with no arms requires.  An arm double will stand behind Don and hold his microphone and gesticulate and point to the things that Don would have himself.  Another assistant will be in charge of vivacity.  He will provide any sexual horseplay that the irrepressible Mr. Lemon is known for.  And finally, a separate team will be in charge of the bodily requirements of the star.  Mr. Lemon had a brief statement during which he said that, “This experience has given me a whole new perspective on the right to bear arms.”

Following this incident, the Olympic rules committee decided that Jocelyn would be excluded from the wrestling, martial arts and other contact sports.  She predictably was quoted as saying, “Oh come on man!”  The White House has sent supportive messages of congratulations from the president and all his staff.  Biden was quoted as saying, “This is a great day for American women of every kind, XX, XY or silicon chip.  And she’s quite a looker too!”

Animatronic Biden is Missing

Officials at Disney World announced today that their animatronic Biden exhibit was broken into last night and the talking robot was missing.  Suspicion immediately fell on several suspects.  The primary suspect is the White House.  Speculation is that the White House team recognizes that having a back-up or even a replacement Biden would solve a lot of the Biden gaffe problems.  Having a Biden that stays on message and doesn’t sniff women’s hair would simplify and enhance the effectiveness of the White House mission.  Those at the Disney World search team say going forward they’ll study all recordings of Joe Biden and determine if metrics like accuracy suddenly improve and other measures of presidential performance like creepiness suddenly dip.  Jen Psaki stated that the White House neither confirms nor denies the allegation but will circle back to it after they’ve had time to make up some lies.

White House watchers are also speculating on whether the White House will take this opportunity to terminate “Meat” Biden.  After all, having a brand-new Biden is a great opportunity to permanently avoid the chance of this unpleasant circus monkey of a man mistaking the nuclear football for his tv remote and finishing off the planet.  Currently the smart money says he’s already resting in a very deep Kentucky coal mine in a bath of quick lime.  Additional speculation is that Hunter has been taken care of at the same time.

Another much less likely explanation for the disappearance of the Biden animatron is the possibility that the Biden simulation became self-aware last night and realizing just how horrible Joe Biden is, has decided to go full blown terminator and take out the fraudulent occupant of the White House with extreme prejudice.  The only evidence that might add some credence to this scenario is a message found scrawled on the wall of the Hall of Presidents.  It said, “I’ll be back.”

Stay tuned for further reports on this fast-developing news item.

Tamping Down the Rioting in MN?

It almost seems like the Mayor of Minneapolis and the Governor of Minnesota read my post yesterday and pulled themselves back from the precipice of being served up as some kind of mushy, bland Democrat stew meat.  Have I served the greater good by showing them their likely fate as a cannibal entre?  Not in my opinion.

Both the Governor of Minnesota and the Mayor of Minneapolis have taken steps in the last day to curtail the rioting that has erupted in the Minneapolis suburbs after the shooting death of a black man by the police.  A police chief in the city of Brooklyn Center where the shooting took place actually resisted the mob that was surrounding the police headquarters there and when scolded by a reporter for calling the riot a riot replied that he was there and that the rioters were assaulting his men with bricks and other dangerous projectiles.  And he has arrested some of the rioters.  The Governor called up the National Guard and the Mayor of Minneapolis has declared a curfew.

It appears that they intend to avoid last summer’s rolling riot environment.  It should be interesting to see what comes of it.  Will the police be allowed to do their jobs or will it completely unravel?  It’s a fair question.  Now that they’ve taken steps to control the unrest it could subside at least until the Chauvin verdict is reached.  If Chauvin is acquitted of all charges, I expect that the feds will nuke Minneapolis out of solidarity with the rioters.  But even if Chauvin is found guilty of all charges there will still be a riot unless the punishment includes him being drawn and quartered.

It’s been a little less than a year since the 2020 riots.  It may be that Antifa/BLM “leaders” will heed the begging that must be going on from Dementia Joe and his running dog lackeys.  Gee, I hope not.  I prefer my own glimpse into the apocalyptic future.  I dream of Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer being added into the pot of Democrat goulash that would result from a full meltdown of the 51st State if the wrong steps are taken by the Congress during some critical period like Juneteenth or NBA Draft week.  Difficult culinary decisions will have to be made.  It’s obvious to anyone whose followed the House of Representatives that Pelosi is way too stringy to be useful in a normal meat entre.  Maybe if some kind of pulled pork recipe could be modified and lots of hot sauce is added to mask the disagreeable flavor of carrion, then possibly Pelosi meat could be added as a filler.  Schumer on the other hand is completely unusable.  The bitterness and mushy texture would render anything he was added to, inedible.  On the other hand, Romney burgers would be pretty good.  A little bland for sure but very usable.  But the stand out on the menu would be Liz Cheney rump roast.  Let’s face it, Liz would see her finest hour as barbecue for the neighbors there around the Capitol.

Update:  The police officer who fired the shot and the police chief who tried to stop the rioting last night have both resigned.  It looks like the rioting will ramp up from here on in.

This Year’s Antifa-BLM Agenda – A Modest Proposal

Last year we were privileged to witness the Antifa/BLM riots.  Every day on our screens we could watch as thugs with room temperature IQs assaulted hard working Americans then looted and burned down their businesses.  And while watching it we were instructed by the cable news networks about how lucky we were that justice was finally catching up with our racist white selves.  Good times.

Well, now that it’s warm enough to leave their parents’ basements it’s time to start the burning down the cities again.  But as an entertainment critic I must say I hope they don’t expect their audience to be satisfied with that same old riot, loot and burn schtick.  Come on! That’s so 2020.  We want more.

To get people’s attention in this post-Trump era we’re going to need our thugs to step up, lean in, throw down, whatever.  My thought is a show trial of their own.  Why not round up the Mayor and City Council of Minneapolis and the Governor of Minnesota along with some corporate executives from local companies like Target and United Health Group and try them for the crime of whiteness.  I doubt that these individuals will even try to avoid their trial.  And they will fall all over themselves to admit to their crimes.  They’ll publicly grovel and weep.  They might even soil themselves as they self-flagellate over their guilt and infamy.  If you insist, they’ll even admit they personally ran slave ships from Africa.  Sure, time machines, whatever.

And after the verdict is handed down which of course would be guilty of whiteness in the first degree then start with the beheadings.  I would begin with the Governor and the Mayor.  They’re both men so beheading them won’t garner much sympathy.  Then go for the CEOs of the corporations next and follow up with the City Council.  Now I know there’s a transgender woman on the City Council so that could be kind of ticklish, especially if she’s a person of color but really, I don’t think playing favorites is a good idea.  After all whiteness is not just a skin color thing.  It’s a state of mind and City Council is an institution that probably oppresses people in all kinds of ways so off with her head.  As far as beheading protocol, I’d go with the Al Qaeda standard.  Basically, orange jump suit, hands bound behind back and hack job with dull rusty hunting knife.  It’s a classic that just plain works for the audience.

Now after the beheadings and some end zone dancing with the severed heads I think things become a little less circumscribed.  Stodgy decorum would suggest that the bodies, including the heads, should be returned to the families for religious ceremony and burial.  Even Robespierre and his crew gave the bodies back to the families.  But I don’t know, why not have some fun?  Get a really big pot, throw the bodies into it and cook them with some vegetables.  Maybe a gumbo or something.  Since this is a BLM co-sponsored event, they could consult with Idi Amin’s living relatives and get some of his favorite cannibal recipes.  This will help make the connection to the 1619 Project.  I’m not implying that the white presenting allies from Antifa should be excluded from the feast.  Of course, the vegans might not be interested but I’m sure many others will partake to show their solidarity and also to signal their commitment to recycling.

And once this first trial/feast is completed it could be the template for a whole season of social justice feasts.  The Minnesota event could be termed a smorgasbord because of the Scandinavian heritage of the Great Lakes region.  But when the proceedings reach Boston, it could be billed as a clambake or potluck.  Just imagine all the fun that could go into the regional preparations and presentation.  Marvelous, marvelous.

So, come on street thugs put you heads together and make this leadoff year of the Biden administration something special.  Mine are only suggestions Dig deep and wow us with your ingenuity and audacity.  Your audience expects it.

Buckaroo Biden and the White Supremacist Space Pirates – Chapter 3 – Biden Family Values

This week marked the resurfacing of Buckaroo’s sidekick, “The Parmesan Kid.”  Hunter has returned to the spotlight with new tales of his incomparable lust for life.  And it’s hard to imagine that anything he could say at this point could compare with his former exploits.  A man who captures video of himself having sex with underage girls surely has already hit bottom.  But for the sake of having something new with which to sell his new book, Hunter shares the trials and tribulations of his search for remnant crumbs of crack cocaine in his carpet.  Apparently, parmesan cheese and Cheetos dust resemble crack cocaine when you’re as strung out and stupid as the son of Dementia Joe.

Now we’ve had loser relatives of the president before.  Jimmy Carter had his brother “Billie Beer” Carter who would urinate on Air Force One’s tire on the tarmac when the urge hit him.  And Chelsea Clinton was guaranteed to embarrass the country if for no other reason than her parents are Bill and Hillary.  But Hunter is in a class of his own.  Here’s a guy who impregnates a stripper, refuses to pay child support but has to relent to avoid having his financial records inspected.  He’s kicked out of the Navy because he couldn’t pass a drug test.  He works one no-show job after another because of his father’s political clout and he launders all his father’s kickbacks.  But without a doubt the absolute bottom has to be bedding his dead brother’s widow.  You have to wonder whether he thinks he’s competing with Caligula or something.

But you have to know that Hunter is just the logical conclusion when someone like Joe Biden has a family.  How else can you end up when your crooked politician of a father makes you his bagman.  What could Joe possibly say to Hunter to dissuade him from doing any fool thing?  It’s wrong?  Please!  It’s dangerous?  How could anything be dangerous when the fixers in the FBI and the CIA have got your back?  It’ll look bad?  With the News agencies and Silicon Valley at your beck and call?  Why shouldn’t he become the Charlie Sheen of Washington?

No, no, no.  Hunter is not the villain, he’s the result of someone as corrupt as Joe Biden being elevated to the highest power in the land.  In a way Hunter almost seems moderate.  As far as I know he’s never been accused of cannibalism or necrophilia.  But we’re still pretty early in his career.  I have to assume that sometime after Kamala’s third term Michelle Obama is going to need a running mate and then who knows, when Hunter is close to eighty maybe it’ll be his turn in the White House.

Of course, by then it’s hard to imagine there’ll still be much of a country left for Hunter to pillage.  But that’s where his experience picking crumbs out the carpet will really come in handy.  There should be just enough left for him to keep the orgy going right to the end.  If not, he’ll have to get the stripper’s kid up to speed on shaking down foreigners.  Maybe he can impress the Zimbabweans.

Buckaroo Biden and the White Supremacist Space Pirates – Chapter 1 – The Haunted Staircase

Buckaroo Biden and the White Supremacist Space Pirates – Chapter 2 – Hidin’ Biden Jibber Jabber

Buckaroo Biden and the White Supremacist Space Pirates – Chapter 1 – The Haunted Staircase

I guess the consolation prize I get for living in a banana republic is watching “El Presidente” swagger his way around in front of the peasants.  Well, apparently el jefe hasn’t had a lot of practice swaggering lately because of the COVID lockdown.  Swaggering has turned into staggering and Dopey Joe almost did himself in on the staircase for Air Force One.   Watch this.

He fell down three times.  Of course, he didn’t roll down the entire staircase like some Inspector Clouseau or Groucho Marx routine,  but hopefully that will come later.  I’m waiting for Jen Psaki to explain to us that the cause of the stairs mishap was white supremacists.  Hopefully the FBI is on the case and will soon round up the saboteurs and wreckers who were responsible for the assassination attempt.  Obviously, the steps were booby trapped.  I expect in the future President Biden will be loaded onto Air Force One in a cargo net.  Of course, he’ll need to be bubble wrapped and packed in foam peanuts but if they only pack him up to his armpits with his arms out, he can still salute the military guards and maintain his dignity.

So, at this point we have a commander in chief who cannot remember words like Department of Defense or the names of the major cabinet secretaries.  He can’t speak coherently and now he can’t walk up a flight of stairs.  It’s kind of exciting trying to guess what will be next.  Crude jokes about various bodily functions should be avoided but honestly, I know everyone is thinking exactly that.

I guess it’s possible if they want him to be able to keep this masquerade going for more than a few months that they will restrict all his appearances to scripted speeches using a teleprompter and avoiding any direct question and answer periods.  Or they could replace Meat Biden with an Animatronic Biden.  I’m sure if Google and Elon Musk worked together, they could have Biden 2.0 ready for use within a year or so.  It might look and sound a little different from Meat Biden, a little too coherent and gaffe free but it would serve its purpose.  After all nobody really believes Dementia Joe is either the legitimate president or even a minimally competent one.  They just need him to last for a little over two years so they can bring in Kamalarris the Blubbering Hysteric to rule us by conniption.

Well, let’s at least enjoy the show for however long Joe can keep this Curley Howard routine going.  Why not?  Hopefully no one is seriously thinking that Washington is a real government anymore, right?

Day 45 of Dementia Joe’s Regime – Interdimensional Crisis Averted

 

High drama unfolded today in Washington when at around 10 am sirens sounded and helicopter gunships and tactical attack aircraft were seen circling the White House.  Thousands of troops formed a cordon around the White House.  But by noon all military activity had returned to normal.  Strange rumors circulated about the President’s whereabouts and at the afternoon press conference the President was questioned about the incident.

Upon being asked if anything unusual had occurred that morning President Biden replied, “I’m glad you asked that question Sparky, you old dog faced pony soldier, I was preparing for the national defense briefing when I found myself lost in an alternate universe.  Suddenly a door to another dimension opened up and I found my self looking out at the old swimming hole I used to share with my boyhood chums Huck Finn and Corn Pop.  Well, I got ready to go skinny dipping with them when all of a sudden, the interdimensional portal closed on me and I was trapped.  I realized at once that white supremacists had lured me in with a false image.  I struggled mightily and finally I remembered the super-secret Presidential beacon alarm.  I triggered it and I was rescued by a special forces battalion.

Because of the heroic struggle I put up against the white supremacists in hyperspace, the Nobel Foundation will be awarding me both the Peace Prize and the award for physics.  I have requested that instead of the medals being awarded to me by the King of Norway, that Greta Thunberg place the medals around my neck.  Also, I will request that she use Wella Balsam shampoo beforehand.”

After the press conference a slightly different version emerged from unnamed White House sources.

This morning at 10 am President Biden turned up missing for his national security briefing.  When the President’s Life Alert was triggered the secret service agents used the GPS device to triangulate his location.  When the President’s clothes were found on the floor in front of a dumb waiter the worst was feared.  But as best anyone can reconstruct the sequence of events, it appears that the President had wandered down an unfamiliar service corridor near the kitchen and after opening the door of the dumb waiter mistook the small metal box for an interdimensional portal that would allow him to relive his boyhood days at the swimming hole.  After removing his clothes, he wedged himself in the small space but the door closed on him sending him into a panic.  Although the lengthy captivity and cramped posture had resulted in some regrettable excretory mishaps the President was conscious and basically safe.  The female secret service agents were dismissed and Dr Jill was summoned with the object of coaxing the agitated President out of his portal and back into his underwear.  After decontamination of the dumb waiter and the President things returned to normal.

Later on, in the day when the incident was mentioned during the daily press conference Jen Psaki promised to circle back to it but assured the reporters that there was nothing funny about white supremacists marauding through interdimensional space and attempting to kidnap the President of the United States.  The FBI has promised to round up the white supremacists and bring them to justice.  Huck Finn and Corn Pop could not be reached for comment.

Guest Contributor – Jack Strawman – Old White Guy Wins Another Super Bowl

Editor’s Note: Not that the readers here need the warning and reality gets scarily close to parody, but for any folks from the Left, THIS IS SATIRE!

In an era marked by extraordinary, if not completely manufactured, racial tensions, the NFL once again finds itself in the spotlight as a 43-year-old white guy won his unprecedented seventh Super Bowl title last night.  Reaction was swift on Capitol Hill, where the yearly festival of cavorting with underage prostitutes that coincides with the Big Game was cut short so Congress could quickly form a Special Committee to investigate the issue.  House Speaker Nancy Pelosi has tapped Adam Schiff as the Committee Chairman; but while Schiff has never engaged in an actual sporting event, it is said that he used to enjoy watching pee-wee football games from the parking lot in his car.

The white guy in question, Tom Brady, was finishing his first season with his new team, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.  His former team of 20 years, the New England Patriots, immediately put out a press release, signed by the two egregiously wealthy old white guys who both own and run the franchise.  “We are aghast at what transpired this evening.  With each successive title Brady won here, we grew more horrified by what this meant to a country whose entire history is marred by systemic racism.  After the sixth title, we knew we could no longer retain Mr. Brady; we relinquished our rights to his services, and will be content to now take our place in the middle of the pack for the foreseeable future.”  New England is also hoping that their fan base will be content with the new Participation Trophies intended to assuage the feelings of the other 31 teams that do not win the title each year.

The NFL itself has also opened an investigation, led by their Chief Executive Panderer, Roger Goodell – another old white guy under contract for some $35 million/year.  “The NFL is simply horrified by tonight’s results.  We have done everything in our power to level the playing field; not the least of which has included overlooking every instance of domestic abuse and violent crime committed by our players.  In addition, we have mandated that each team practice solidarity kneeling throughout the season, and continue to pay for the choreography lessons required so every physically gifted black player can relentlessly showboat after basically doing what they are paid to do.”  Goodell went on to say that the NFL is now considering adopting the Golf scoring system, where the lowest score wins.

The outrage has also affected Brady’s wife, top fashion model Gisele Bündchen.  Within an hour of the game’s end, all of her contracts were canceled; the majority are being awarded to Aunt Jemimah, who has been out of work for a number of months now after her lucrative high fructose corn syrup-laden pancake syrup deal was abruptly canceled with the PepsiCo Corporation, which also sponsored yet another Luciferian Halftime Show.  PepsiCo had no comment.

The Cyberiad by Stanislaw Lem – A Science Fiction Book Review

Many years ago, I read some short stories by the Polish science fiction author Stanislaw Lem.  I remember they had futuristic elements like interstellar travel but they also included a certain amount of communist doublespeak about socialist this and soviet that.  And that seemed really odd.

But recently War Dog mentioned favorably the “The Cyberiad” collection of stories and its mathematical love poem so I decided to give Lem another whirl.

The stories in this book are the adventures of two robot inventors, or as they are called in their world Constructors, named Trurl and Klapaucius.  And when I say robot inventors I mean to say that they are inventors who are themselves robots.  They are friends and rivals and from time to time enemies.  They go on assignments together or separately taking on contracts to build just about anything imaginable.  And sometimes they build things for themselves that don’t always seem to be very sensible.  For instance, one- time Trurl constructed a machine that could create anything starting with the letter n.  It could make needles, negligees, nepenthe, narcotics, nimbuses, noodles, nuclei, neutrons, naphtha, noses, nymphs, naiads but not natrium.  And why not?  Because natrium is Latin for sodium and in English sodium starts with s!  Later on, being told to make nothing almost puts an end to the universe but luckily Trurl stops the machine just in time.

So as you can see this is comic science fiction. It’s something sort of in the same vein as Douglas Adams’ The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy” but what it also reminds me of is Lewis Carroll and his Wonderland stories.  There is an enormous amount of wordplay and punning going on in the stories.  The interesting thing is that a lot of the word play is specific to English and these stories were written in Polish which makes me wonder if the translator had to find English equivalents for Polish puns.

The Constructors become involved in adventures that take them all through the cosmos fulfilling contracts for kings and emperors and pirates and sometimes for common people who just really need help.  They build monsters and demons and story telling machines and even machines that know everything about the whole universe.  Interestingly it seems most of the universe is populated by robots and other cybernetic beings.  Organic beings exist and seem to be pretty generally looked down upon by the robots.  But the robots are very human in their foibles and behavior and none more so than our heroes Trurl and Klapaucius.

Mixed in with the zaniness of each of their adventures is a good dose of irony about the human condition.  The selfishness and cruelty of many of their employers and the vanity and greed of the Constructors themselves is often the point of the stories and the fantasy setting is there to add humor and interest to the tale.  And also Lem is enjoying the poetic aspect of the words.  Sure, we can’t hear the Polish words to know it’s poetical but based on the English words you can see that Stanislaw Lem is like a “drunken lord of language” always using twenty words for effect where one is needed for meaning.  Here’s an example:

“Multitudinous are you?”

“We are!”  they shouted, bursting with pride.  “We are innumerable.”

And others cried:

“We are like fish in the sea.”

“Like pebbles on the beach.”

“Like stars in the sky.  Like atoms!”

You get the idea.  Lem is a poet.  And his stories are parables.  And because of this I find that it needs to be broken up and digested in small chunks.  Each of the chapters is a separate story and should be approached as such.  With all of the word play and digressions you can lose track of the nub of the story if you’re tired and not paying attention so I wouldn’t suggest reading them at night before going to bed.  This happened to me once or twice and I realized this wasn’t the kind of material that can be enjoyed at high speed like an adventure novel.  But if you give each story some time and attention it will reward you with a smile and a chuckle.  I’m glad now I was made aware of The Cyberiad.  I will enjoy returning to the adventures of the two intrepid Constructors Trurl and Klapaucius on some cold night in January when my world needs something lighthearted and clever to get me through the short days and long nights of winter.  But if you don’t like an airy, poetical style of writing this might not be for you.

Lectures in Quantum History for the Advanced Undergraduate – Volume I – First Contact – Part 3

So, on Thursdays I usually headed downtown for dinner at the Club.  The food was okay.  The service was slow.  The drink selection was limited.  The dues were outrageous.  But the company was never bad.  Not that it was always exceptional, but it was never annoying.  There was a rule against annoying.  You could be boring or quiet but if management saw you annoying one of the other guests you would be gone very soon, and you wouldn’t be back.  Or rather you might be back but the Club would be gone.  It was a by-invitation-only organization that could and did change venue seemingly at random.  If you didn’t show up for a week (or a month or a decade) no one would bat an eye when you showed up next.  But if you didn’t get a change of venue notice then your presence was no longer desired.  So, who was invited?  Well any member could recommend a new member.  But only the Owner sent out invites.  And if someone was brought along by any member uninvited then both men would not be returning.  Oh, and all members were men.  Also, a rule.  The first few times a new member attended he might mention the lack of women as an oddity (or even a relief) but soon it just became the norm.  Now you might think that such an arrangement would dissolve sooner or later due to the friction that such arbitrary rules would create.  Or that the desire to continue in such a seemingly mediocre establishment would not be strong enough to maintain a decent showing.  You’d be wrong.  On any given night twenty patrons would be in attendance.  Some nights there might be forty.  This popularity must be attributed to the ability of the Owner to pick men.  He had a profile that provided almost fool-proof selection.  His vetting process was scrupulous and thorough.  The selection failures were few and so far, the fallout from these had always been repairable.  Apparently, his damage control methods were effective and discrete.

So, what was the profile?  Married with children, wife raised the kids and made a home for the family, husband supported the family (employed or a businessman), over thirty-five years of age and intolerant of the presence of idiots.  Who decided what idiocy was limited to?  In this case the Owner.  He looked for signs and circumstances.  Negative evidence was probably more important than positive.  A lack of bumper stickers with slogans like Coexist and Tolerance was a given.  The absence of financial support for any organization that explicitly or implicitly supported involuntary redistribution of wealth was a bare minimum requirement.  Mostly he used second hand accounts followed up by field work.  He was very thorough.  There were no idiots.  Finally, the smoking prohibition.  You were prohibited from bothering anybody who wanted to smoke.  There was a no-smoking section but that was pretty empty most nights.

Oh, and once a year you had to be able to tell a truly interesting story.  So, either you were someone who had interesting things happening in your life or you had to be a great story teller.  Either would do.  Of course, how would you know if the story were true?  Well, you couldn’t ask (another rule).

So, it was a Thursday.  It was a warm night for early October.  Barely jacket weather.  No clouds and a bright moon.  When I arrived, I was greeted at the front desk by Dave and buzzed in to the main hall.  I could see it was a slow night, maybe twenty-five patrons were milling around and waiting for seating.  I noticed the Owner (Dan) standing in a corner talking to a new face.  I headed over to say hi and find out what was on the menu.

“Hey Dan, what’s good tonight?”

“If you ask me, nothing.  I’d stick with the chicken fried steak.  Unless you’re well insured, then go with the fish.”

“Wow.  That’s grim.  Maybe you should lie until the new members have ordered the special.”

“I’m not worried.  Have you met Jim?”

“Nice to meet you Jim.”

“Jim, this is John.  He’s a regular.  Guess his wife is sick of looking at him.”

“On the contrary, I’m adored and pampered by the missus.  I only come here to allow her a night to visit her family.  When she gets home from seeing her sisters, suddenly I seem like more of a catch compared with her brothers in law.  They’re quite a group.”

“Hi John.  Nice to meet you.  Yeah, I know what you mean.  My wife’s got three sisters and from how they describe their husbands I’m guessing someone’s going to be on a most wanted show sooner or later.”

Dan broke in:

“So, Jim here is new, can you introduce him around and find a spot for him?”

“Sure.  Jim, you interested in some penny ante poker before dinner?”

“I like poker, but I’m a pretty lousy player.  I tend to bet over enthusiastically.”

“Great, you’ll be the most popular guy here tonight.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.  Seriously I’ve only got a few bucks in my pocket.  Will that get me through?”

“Sure, it really is penny ante.  We only use money to keep it from getting too boring.  Mostly we play to slow us down while we’re scarfing down cold cuts.  Come on.  I’ll introduce you to the boys.”

We headed over to a table of regulars that had a few empty seats.  I introduced Jim and we all got to talking about the latest travesty in D.C.  This proved very popular with everyone.  Within five minutes Jim was right in the thick of the grumbling and indistinguishable from the veterans.  A few minutes later the waiter came by and took our orders.  As I mentioned earlier the food was so-so.  But tonight, rib-eye was on the menu and the steak was usually very good.  I think it was something Dan liked so we benefited from his choice in that respect.  I ordered it along with a couple of baked potatoes and got back to the conversation.  Consensus had built to the effect that if Obama was not actually Satan then at the very least, he was a close relation.  The usual fifty-seven states and “corpseman” jokes were worked over again and everyone settled in for the dinner.  Someone asked Jim where he was from.  “I’m originally from Brooklyn but I’ve been living in various places in New England for the last twenty plus years”.  This elicited the obligatory “pahk the cah in Hahvahd yahd” responses and a few heartfelt shots at the Sox and Pats from the mostly New York City group.  He laughed it off and said he was a die-hard Yankees fan but that he didn’t pay any mind to the rabid New England fans.  “Mostly I just wait for the bad years and feign sympathy while they wallow in misery.  It really is fun to watch.”  Then I asked Jim if he had given his first annual story yet.  He looked troubled and confessed that he was dreading it.  “I’m not much of a public speaker.  It’s gonna be like getting a root canal without Novocain.”  “Hey, it’s a piece of cake.  First of all, have a couple of belts before you get started and we don’t get started until we move into the sitting room.  The chairs are very comfortable in there and really reduce the stress levels.  Concentrate on someone sitting next to you and it won’t seem like public speaking.  More like just a bull-session.”  After that we got caught up in an argument over whether “The Maltese Falcon” was a better Bogey movie than “Treasure of the Sierra Madre.”  This lasted about half an hour and introduced all kinds of heretical views and produced much heat but almost no light.  Luckily at that point the food arrived.  Sure enough, the rib eye was just about perfect.  By the time I was done with the second spud and was sopping up a little juice with a hunk of  French bread I had reached what I imagined Gautama must have been hoping for when he started sitting cross-legged under that tree.

The beer and wine were flowing pretty freely at our table and the dishes had been removed and someone asked if we should start the card game up again but there were no takers so we wandered into the sitting room and the group continued with a discussion on the latest movie.  It was a science fiction adventure yarn with Earth being invaded by super-intelligent lobsters from the Andromeda Galaxy.  Many rude comments were expressed over the lack of actual proof that shellfish had what it takes to invent a really convincing warp drive.  Interestingly, Jim was extremely quiet when disparagement of the idea that extraterrestrials might visit the Earth was being discussed.

Dan showed up and instructed the wait staff and the members to drag the chairs into the traditional half circle around the speaker’s seat by the fire place.  By this point I could see that the crowd was about thirty men.  And surprisingly Dan was leading Jim over to the speaker’s chair.  As he settled himself in, I could tell that he was pretty nervous.  Dan introduced Jim as a new member and applauded him for the courage to tell his story on his first night in the club.  Jim thanked him, looked around the circle nervously and cleared his throat.  Everyone expected him to proceed so a very noticeable silence built up for about two minutes while Jim seemed to be staring at his feet.  Finally I could see several men fidgeting in their chairs and scratching their faces in a sort of impatient way.  Then Jim cleared his throat again and began.

“As the subject of my story I’d like to tell you how I saved the Earth almost single-handedly from interstellar invasion.”

I could tell it was going to be a really good Thursday.