Trump Golfing

Dear Old Phart,

When President  Trump was a candidate, he criticized Obama for golfing so much. Now it seems Trump is always on the golf course. What gives?

Par For The Course

Dear Par For The Course,

According to Politifact, in the first 10 months of their Presidencies, Trump golfed 35 times while Obama golfed 24 times. Many of Trump’s golf outings have been at the Florida resort he owns called “Sea Lake.”

Now I need to take a moment  to explain why I am calling President Trump’s Florida resort Sea Lake. The real name of the resort is a Spanish phrase which translates to the English as Sea Lake. I am using the English translation because most of my readers don’t know Spanish and besides, we all know English is numero uno.

Also, it is unethical, if not illegal, for someone in government to use government resources for private gain. I know our President; being the ethical, virtuous person he is; would never think of using the government to enrich himself. So I am only protecting the President by not using the club’s Spanish name.

So to answer your question, why is the President golfing so much when he criticized the previous President for doing that?  The answer is, who cares? If you are a real Trump supporter, all you really care about is that he drains the swamp in Washington, D.C.

And he is doing just that. He is draining the swamp and filling it up with his own mara lago.

Old Phart

Nurse Fantasy

Dear Old Phart:

I am writing a book about people’s fantasies. I know a lot of people confide in you. I was wondering if you could submit a favorite fantasy that someone has told you or perhaps one of your own? If the fantasy you submitted is selected,  I will give you a credit in the book.

Best Seller?

Dear Best Seller?:

Ok, the following is a fantasy I was told in confidence so I will leave out names.

A man is lying in his death bed.  Tomorrow is his birthday. His wife enters the bedroom and sits on the bed next to him. She says to her husband ,”Dear, I know tomorrow is your birthday. As a present, I would like to make your fantasy come true. Tell me what you want.  I will do anything you ask.”

The husband’s glassy eyes show a flicker of life. A crooked smile creeps across his face. His raspy voice croaks out, “I want you to dress up like a nurse. Then …”

Then he starts to cough and gag as the thought of what he wants his wife to do overwhelms his ailing body. His wife takes his hand in hers and soothes it. “That’s ok dear,” she says, ” Just relax. You can tell me tomorrow.” The wife walks out of the bedroom, tears streaming down her face.

The next day, the wife enters the bedroom. She is dressed in a sexy nurse outfit. Short, white, form fitting dress; thigh high stockings; even an old-fashion nurse’s hat bobbie-pinned to her hair. She is carrying a bowl of warm water with a sponge in it.

She sits down next to her dying husband and wipes his fervid brow. She then slowly and gently removes his pajamas and proceeds to give his entire body a sponge bath.

When she is done she lies next to him, propped up on one elbow. She says, “honey, what was it you wanted to tell me yesterday? What is the rest of your fantasy?” She sees his lips move but can’t hear him. She leans closer to him and repeats, “Dear, what is your fantasy? What do you want me to do? ”

She leans her head close to his lips so she can hear his response.

The husband, with great effort, whispers to his wife, “Nurse, make believe. Tell me I have health insurance.”

Old Phart

Running For Congress

Dear Old Phart,

I’m  tired of the ineptitude of Congress. I’m sure I can do a better job than that group of incompetents.  Instead of sitting on the sidelines, I think I’m going to put my money where my mouth is and run for office.

Can you help?

Foghorn Leghorn

Dear Foghornn Leg,

Yes I can help. To prepare you for running for office, I’ve developed a series of exercises to brace you for the journey ahead.

First, stick your head in the toilet and flush. Now do it again. This will give you a sense of how you will feel both on the campaign trail and if you become a Congressman. It will be more realistic if the toilet bowl contains some leftovers when you first flush. Then on the second flush you will actually feel as if you accomplished something.

Next, collect campaign contributions from your friends and family. Now take the money and stick it in a blender. Add prune juice. Set to purée and blend for 3 minutes. Take the contents of the blender and give yourself an enema. Soon you will poop out all the money you collected and the promises you made to your friends and family. You may not have cleaned up Washington but at least you cleaned out your colon.

Your next exercise is to lock yourself in a closet for 5 hours with only a bag of peanuts, 5 ounces of soda and a piss bucket. This will simulate what you have to do if you get elected and have to fly home every weekend to meet with constituents. When you get out of the closet after 5 hours, kiss your spouse goodbye and head out the door.

Drive to the nearest American Legion Post and thank the veterans for their service and promise to clean up the VA. Now, share a bowl of really greasy chili with them but do not, under any circumstances, go to the bathroom. Politicians can never be seen going potty–it’s a sign of weakness.

Get back into your car and look for the closest fast food restaurant to do your duty before the chili turns into military grade ordinance.  Look there’s a McDonald’s!  Nope can’t go there.  Might actually be someone in there who votes. Look for a Jack-In-The-Box in a bad area of town or, better yet, a Del Taco–definitely no voters there.

Now head over to a senior citizen’s facility. Tell them you promise never to touch their social security–even if it means their grandchildren will never receive social security or even a decent education. Let those whipper snappers eat beans out of a can as long as the old pharts can  afford their yearly vacation to Boca–and again, don’t worry about the grandkids, Boca will be underwater by the time they get old!

Finally, head home, kiss your spouse goodbye and head back into the closet for the flight home. Better yet, live out of the closet for the next week as that will simulate the living space you will have in D.C. as that is all you will be able to afford. Unless of course you are on the take, in which case, why did you run for office in the first place?

Old Phart

 

 

 

 

 

Raffi

Dear Old Phart,

I am a former singer of children’s songs who made millions of dollars singing to youngsters. At one time I was known as the most popular children’s singer in the English world. But that was not where my heart was; I wanted to sing folk tunes to adults. So I switched to adult folk singing and went from producing gold records to albums no one listened to.  I know I can’t go back to what I used to be but the new me is a flop. What should I do?

The Artist Formerly Known As Raffi*

Dear The Artist Formerly Known As Raffi,

My heart goes out to you. You follow your heart and find only disappointment. It is soul crushing. It must feel like “An elephant sat on Raffi!” — to borrow a lyric from one of your children’s song.

Raffi baby, don’t follow your heart, follow your wallet. Millions of parents like me played your songs endlessly to our children, nieces, nephews, children’s friends, etc. We couldn’t take a trip to the store, let alone a trip across country, without playing your songs to soothe the savage beasts in the back seat.

Now with grandchildren I will have to play those same songs again and again and again. I feel that if I have to play “Baby Beluga” one more time I’m going to have to go “down by the bay where the watermelons grow” and drown myself.

We need new material! But it is true you can’t go back. So this is what you are going to do. You’re going to dress up in a dress and pretend you are a woman. Change your name from Raffi to Taffi. And start producing new songs for the next generation of munchkins to be anesthetized by.

And why should you do this? “Because the more we get together, the happier we’ll be.” Now start plucking your chin hairs!

Old Phart

*p.s. This letter isn’t really from the artist formerly known as Raffi. I made it up. I just had to “shake my sillies out.”

Wedding Rap

Dear Old Phart,

My daughter’s wedding is coming up and I want to give a memorable “father of the bride” speech. I haven’t been the greatest Dad so I want to do something special. I’ve seen on You Tube a lot of people doing wedding raps, but I’m not that good with words. Can you help?

Befuddled Dad

Dear  Befuddled Dad,

Yes I can help. The Old Phart listens to all types of music from Stravinsky to Poop Dog, er, Snoop Dogg.  Just call me RapMaster O.P. (Old Phart). Here we go:

Wedding Rap

Ushers,  deacons, lock the door,

Here comes a rap from the bride’s Pa

Ya’ll  better listen to me with cer-tain-tee,

If not I’ll drive by and put a cap in yo’ knee!

One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready

go daddy go.

When the bride be born, she a wee baby,

They all said me, just a Daddy maybe.

So I bought her a toy–a stuffed animal named Tigger,

She grew up like her Mom–a friggin’ gold digger.

One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready

go daddy go.

The bride and groom met on a blind date,

He took to her right out o’ the gate.

On that night,  he think I can bang-bang,

So by the morn’ she had bagged him by his whang!

One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready

go daddy go.

Now they hitched, livin’ ‘n marital bliss.

As long as he raise hand, before he go piss!

One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready

go daddy go.

This rap is done, I’m your proud Pa,

Now I go home and get throttled  by your Ma!

Old Phart

Taking A Knee

Dear Old Phart,

What’s all this controversy about football players kneeling during the national anthem? Whatever happened to respecting the flag? Do you love our country or are you one of those hippie communist nut jobs?

Which Side Are You On?

Dear Which Side Are You On?,

This is one of those controversies I really don’t get worked up about. My biggest concern right now is whether I can finish this in time to take a nap.

Just so you know, I would never kneel during the national anthem. My knees hurt when I kneel and at my age I’m not sure if I would be able to get up afterwards.

But enough about me. You don’t like football players kneeling during the national anthem? That’s easy enough to fix. Use your brain; try aversion therapy on the NFL.

Start a social media campaign calling out football players who kneel during the national anthem. Call them wimps. Say real men don’t kneel during the national anthem. Tell them if they were real men then they would kneel when it would actually take courage to get down on one knee…like in the locker room shower after the game!

Oh yeah. The first time one of those players takes a knee in the shower and finds themselves at eye level with Gronkowski’s schlong, it’ll be game over. Or perhaps they’ll find themselves staring at some tight end’s beefy behind. Such a vision will be burnt into their brain so brightly that they’ll never kneel any place anytime soon for fear of remembering that sight.

And I don’t think the other players will take too kindly with a teammate being eyes to eye with their privates. Don’t be surprised if this results in unnecessary roughness and unsportsmanlike conduct in the locker room.

So, problem solved.  See all you have to do is use your brain to address any dilemma. I’m so good. Maybe next time I’ll tackle something a little more challenging…like cutting toe nails when you’re old and your stomach gets  too big.

Old Phart

 

 

 

Opioids

Dear Old Phart,

A few months ago I was in a car accident. While healing, I was in intense pain so the doctor prescribed opioids. Well now I’m hooked on them and my prescription is running out. My choices are few: find a new doctor who will write a script, buy the drugs on the black market or switch to the cheapest option…heroin.

I don’t know what to do. I need the drugs to exist; it’s the only thing I crave anymore.

Can you help me?

Desperate

p.s. I’m not Rush Limbaugh

Dear Desperate:

When I was a child I used to crave certain television shows. One of my favorites was “Andy of Mayberry.” This show starred Sheriff Andy Taylor and his son Opie. What does Opie have to do with Opiods? Nothing! Opie never did drugs, which is why he is one of the few childhood stars who became a successful adult and is now an Academy Award winning movie director.

You on the other hand are a crackhead junkie. The road you are going down has no good ending. If you don’t kick the habit you will lose everything and everyone you care about.

Usually in a situation like this, I would recommend counseling and give some wise advice on how to stop addiction. But not with you. I want nothing else to do with a disgusting human being like you.

How dare you try to bribe me by including a fentanyl pill in your letter! You are a dirty disgusting dingus. I don’t do drugs and I can’t be bribed you low-life scumball.

You disgust me. If I were half a man I’d beat your sorry ass. Try to bribe me? Sheesh…

Well ok, maybe I’m being a little too harsh and, as a decent human being, I  should show some empathy for someone who has a debilitating addiction. Lord knows I’m not perfect. Ok Old Phart, take a deep breath…calmer now. Sorry for the rant….hmm… Maybe I’d be doing a service to my readers if I did take the pill you sent, tried drugs just once, to see what it is like to be in your shoes.

Ok. Just once. Here goes. (gulp)…

 

 

 

 

 

 

old PhaRt^