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

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

 

 

 

White Privilege?

Dear Old Phart,

I am your average white guy on the 1-2-3 plan. One wife, two kids and three part-time jobs. I make $38,000 a year and am forced to buy Obamacare so my family, including my son with asthma, can have lousy health insurance. My major leisure time activity is falling asleep on the couch while watching tv and worrying about  car payments.

If I’m  lucky, my kids will be able to afford to go to community college so they can have the same sucky life I have.

I keep hearing about white privilege. When am I going to get some?

Depressed in Des Moines

Dear Depressed,

This past year basketball star LeBron James had his house spray painted with racist graffiti. After this happened he remarked: “No matter how much money you have, no matter how famous you are, no matter how many people admire you, being black in American is tough.”

Some have complained that LeBron’s comments were out of place as he is, as are other black people, very successful. But let’s face it,  if you were in LeBron’s size 15 sneakers, no one would be spraying your home with racist graffiti because you are a white man. And remember the average black family makes $23,000 less than the average white family. And if your son was black, you would be worrying about his life ending prematurely at a traffic stop, or if living in the central city, by gang violence.

Now let me tell you a factoid about the Old Phart. One of my favorite cartoons appeared in the now-defunct humor magazine “The National Lampoon.” The cartoon showed a hot dog in human form with a face, arms and legs standing in front of a mail box. In his hand is a letter from the Publisher Clearinghouse Sweepstakes that says: “You may already be a weiner!”

Now to answer your question about when are you going to get some of that  white privilege.

There is white privilege even though not all white people are privileged.  And there are some privileged people who are not white.

LeBron? He’s a proud black man, worth over $400 million dollars, with multiple homes and cars.  His 12 year old son is already such a superb basketball athlete that he is drawing attention from top colleges. LeBron is a winner.

You? You may already be a weiner.

Old Phart

 

 

 

 

 

Does Jesus Love Me?

Dear Old Phart,

Lately I feel depressed. I have always been religious but the way my life has been going lately, I have  my doubts. Does Jesus really love me?

Questioning

Dear Questioning,

It is natural to question your faith. One can learn religion but one has to find God.

Luckily, I have an easy and reliable test to determine if Jesus loves you. Send a large sum of money to me. Preferably more than you can afford. If something good happens to you after you do this, then Jesus loves you. If your life doesn’t change, than Jesus loves me.

Old Phart

Go Towards The Light

Dear Old Phart,

I have been engaged in a year-long search for spiritual enlightenment. I have studied all the world’s major religions and engaged with each of these groups. After exhaustive study, I have determined that the way of the Sufi is the chosen path for me.

My friends and relatives have mocked me and show utter disdain for my choice. Particularly bothersome has been the attitude of my wife who thinks I am joining a cult. I have tried to engage her in an intellectual discussion of my new found faith but as a former beauty pageant winner outward appearances overshadow her intellectual insight.

What should I do?

Show Me The Way

 

Dear Show Me,

There is a classic Sufi story about the mystic Nasrudin. A student happens upon Nasrudin one evening in front of his house searching for something. The student asks “what are you looking for?” Nasrudin replies, “I lost my house key.” The student asks, “where did you lose it?” Nasrudin replies “in the back yard.” “Then why are you looking in the front yard,” asks the student?” Nasrudin replies, ” because that is where the light is.”

What the story doesn’t tell is that Mrs. Nasrudin is inside the locked house getting porked by her next door neighbor. He found Nasarudin’s key in the backyard and now has easy access to Mrs. Nasrudin’s back door … if you know what I mean.

So yes, by all means, follow your chosen path and become a Sufi! As your spiritual mentor, I am interested in your journey. Please keep in touch and write to me about your experiences. Just remember to write your return address on the envelope; leave a key by the back door and always keep the front porch light on!

Old Phart

 

Musical Merry-Go-Round

Dear Old Phart,

My boyfriend likes hip hop but I like popular contemporary music –think Taylor Swift. We are constantly arguing over song selection. Plus his music gives me a headache. How do I shake it off?

Whiz or Whizout Kahlifa

Dear Whiz,

One person’s symphony is another person’s cacophony. Ditch Kahlifa and find someone who listens to classic rock. He may have a few grey hairs but you can always get him to spring for a vacation at an exotic resort. Beats celebrating your birthday with Master Hip Hop at the local Steak and Shake.

Old Phart