The baseball season may be over for us Philadelphia Phillies devotees, but Kathy and I have kept our routine: Dinner, the nightly news, and a playoff game that sadly doesn’t include our beloved Phillies. Kathy prefers the nightly news with Tom Llamas. “It’s time for Tom,” she reminds me. (Apparently, Kathy and Tom are on a first-name basis.)
Lately, the usual gobbly-gook that connects the news segments has taken a vaudevillian-like detour, a full-court press of old, stale comedy. Every commercial is a campaign ad. Not most. All. Ten consecutive ads featuring five political aspirants. One ad will laud a political hopeful. It will feature billionaires, special interests, and insurance companies quaking in their boots and dreading the wrath that awaits them should the electorate pull the correct lever, or “vote their conscience.” In the next ad, the irredeemably crooked hopeful is seen bent over a table and unpantsed as the above-mentioned have him well-engaged in an activity that won’t make his kids proud; however, when they grow up, he can send them to Harvard. Welcome to the midterms circa 2026. While watching this cavalcade of nonsense, a limerick formed in my head.
There once was a man from Pawtucket
He ran around all day long yelling “Fuck it!”
And though his life was a farce
And his vocabulary, sparse
Eventually, he learned to yell “Suck it!”
Two tired messages, one exhausted person, and a meager attempt at the truth.
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