Punching Down.

Attention: Immigrants, innocent children, asylum seekers, and bleeding heart liberals.

America is a land of ZERO TOLERANCE for breaking the law. According to “the Bahbull,” which loosely translates from elvish to English as, “the Bible,” the law is the law.

Except, of course, when it’s not. Continue reading

The Constitution’s Odd Silence On Donkey/Human Relations

Here’s a quick list of things Donald Trump can do because, according to Rudy Giuliani’s legal ramblings, they aren’t expressly forbidden by the Constitution.

  • He can eat Filet-o-Fish sandwiches and Big Mac’s with absolute impunity. The Constitution does not mention fast food, nor the President’s physical fitness, nor his status as a role model for the nation.
  • He can cheat on his first wife with his second wife, cheat on her with yet another wife, cheat on that wife with a porn star, and cheat on the porn star with a Playboy model. The Constitution does not mention the President’s marital fidelity, nor does it make any reference to pornography.
  • He can sacrifice a goat to the Devil in the middle of a pentagram on the South Lawn of the White House. The Constitution is remarkably silent on Satanic rituals.
  • He can climb to the top of the Washington Monument and piss on the assembled masses below. The Constitution does not expressly prohibit watersports, though it is worth noting that the President’s physical fitness and aging prostate might prove to quash such activities.[i]
  • He can ride a coked-up Bengal tiger through the halls of the White House. The Constitution never once mentions Bengal tigers.
  • He can appoint completely unqualified hacks to every position under Article II, so long as he gains the “advice and consent” of the Senate. Given the Senate’s composition and recent record, it appears that there is no Constitutional prohibition, express nor implied, on having a Cabinet chock full o’ nincompoops. Nincompoopery = 100% constitutional.
  • The President can lie, constantly, about matters large and small. The Constitution does not expressly forbid the President from lying. While the previous occupants lied occasionally, they significantly underutilized their apparent constitutional power to trade in outright deception.
  • Donald can make money by selling hats and t-shirts with his mottos and image. The Constitution prohibits receiving emoluments from foreign governments, but there’s nothing in that document from 1789 that says he can’t dropship some custom-printed tees on a poorly managed website. As Alexander Hamilton once said, “get thine sales funnel primed, bro.”
  • He can select himself to be an astronaut. The Constitution is strangely silent on matters of space travel.
  • Trump can trick Mike Pence by promising to hold the football while the Veep kicks it, only to pull it away at the last second. Mr. Pence’s momentum will cause him to fall flat on his back, but he’ll never learn. And the President is completely safe, as the Framers never made a single mention of Peanuts, Charlie Brown, nor Lucy. It’s safe to assume the lack of prohibition on the old cartoon prank was fully intentional.
  • The President can wear a Qaddafi/Stalin/Mussolini/Idi Amin style military uniform. As the Commander-in-Chief, it’s assumed that the President is a civilian representative of the populace who, in turn, exercises authority over the people’s But that’s an assumption. The Constitution never once says that the President can’t play dress-up and strut around like the very model of a modern major general.
  • He can play golf every single weekend, come hell or high water. Presidents before Trump, and Trump before President Trump, felt that the job of President of the United States was simply too demanding to afford much time on the links. But there’s not a single line in the entire Constitution telling us exactly how much golf is too much golf. We’re left to assume that nonstop golf would be possible, legal, and acceptable in the eyes of the Framers.

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“A Humble Recommendation” by Guest Author Johnny Quick

Originally published on medium.com, 5/22/2018 by Johnny Quick, republished with permission on Hitting The Trifecta.

Gun violence is rampant, and other than restricting access to firearms — an absolute nonstarter — there’s simply nothing we can do about it. Not a single sensible answer exists. Which is why we have to abandon sensibility, and latch on to some good ol’ fashioned American hardscrabble ingenuity.

We have to start killing our own children.

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I Can’t Win Unless Some Loser Loses.

There’s something about the psyche of the average American conservative that makes them only truly win when someone else is losing.

There’s no victory in seeing everyone do better, because in the conservative mind, not everyone deserves to do better. What kind of world would it be if there was no punishment for making bad decisions?

[SHOUTED FROM OFFSTAGE] The world Donald Trump lives in?

 Shut the hell up, imaginary person I’m using as a silly literary device. No one asked you. Continue reading

Just Letting You Know, You’re Garbage. Don’t Shoot The Messenger.

We can disagree about football. I like the Houston Texans, my dad follows the Texans but can’t shake his East Texas roots: he’s a Cowboys fan through and through. I’ve disliked the Cowboys pretty much my entire life. And Dallas, for that matter.

Dallas is what Houston would be if Houstonians lost everything that makes them interesting and fun. All that would be left is a bunch of boring people, sweating profusely, stuck in traffic. I will give them credit for the show, Dallas. And that’s only because (a) J.R. Ewing was a badass, and (b) the theme song reminds me of my childhood. So does the soundtrack to Urban Cowboy and the crisp, cool taste of Budweiser. It’s beechwood aged for that taste that says, “I’m 3 and drinking my uncle’s beer. Again.”

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Six Things You Should Stop Doing Because They Annoy Me

Blame it on my seasonal allergies. Or maybe it’s my various ailments attributable to age-related wear and tear. Mostly wear, but no significant tears. For that, I am grateful, as getting torn sounds quite painful.

Perhaps I just suppress my rage, and it’s bubbling out of my assorted head-holes now. But I’m feeling that familiar “I’d like to punch a baby right in its adorable pudgy face” feeling that I get now and then. Continue reading

What’s The Worst That Could Happen? Okay, Quadruple That.

I hacked America’s data, and I found out that we’re a bunch of terrible, idiotic human beings.

Okay, that’s a little over-the-top. It’s probably more accurate to say that many of us are terrible, idiotic human beings, and that incredibly vocal plurality is causing our national boat to careen dangerously starboard. Continue reading

Give Me Liberty, Or Give Me…Slightly Less Liberty.

Literally every right we have comes with limits.

We have the right to free speech, yet I can’t libel people. I can’t (legally) threaten people with bodily harm. I can most definitely use inflammatory rhetoric, but I can’t use it to incite violence without facing criminal charges. I can’t yell obscenities outside at 3 am, apparently. I have first-hand knowledge about that last one, courtesy of the Houston Police Department and some pissed-off neighbors circa 2000. Continue reading

Go Play Golf, We Got This.

I own a restaurant in Washington, DC, about four blocks from the speaker’s stage for March For Our Lives. It’s called Merzi, look us up!

I had a front row seat to the Women’s March in 2017, and saw hundreds of thousands of people engaging in their First Amendment rights to assemble, speak, and petition the government. It was awe-inspiring and emotionally moving. Continue reading