The King of Twitter

He’s the king of Twitter!  It’s because his heart is cold and bitter.  Without delay he will have something to say and it’s going to be so bad that his aides can only kneel down to pray.  It’s how he thinks out loud to say what should never be allowed!  Mark his words over which he will always be proud.  It’s how he distinguishes himself from the other losers in the crowd. 

It’s how he feeds his deplorable base.  It’s what keeps a smile on his lamentable face.  It is others of color that he wishes to erase and so a white nationalist is someone he will never deface!  It is with twitter that our discourse he will keep polluting.  It’s why he has nothing to say about another mass shooting.  It’s clear he suffers from the strain of having John McCain on the brain.  It’s like he has visions of the senator dancing in his head even though the American hero has long since been dead.  And so he continues to despair about the existence of Obamacare. 

Many who’ve read his tweets dread what’s been said.  Yet the king thinks to move in goodwill even though he fits the profile of being mentally ill.  He says the stereotype is just hype made by losers who just want to take an angry swipe.  Many of his supporters won’t say it and when the king posts a tweet they jump to obey it!  He has pronounced by edict that there will be order on the southern border even though it is ya’ll that will pay for his wall.  This is how we witness America’s great downfall! 

Greet his tweets and you will realize that he sees the statue of Liberty as a whore.  It’s all about the money she makes to take and nothing more.  It is over her that he wishes to start another civil war as if sedition is his mission.  He knows that there are those who will never abort his support.  They’re like roaches that do not scatter from the light only to feign ignorance while devouring democracy in plain sight.  His heart beats with every single tweet.  We’ve been advised that he will not go quietly in defeat.  This will make his comrades sad in losing the useful idiot they’ve had.  To them the king will tweet to shout that his tyrannical friends have nothing to worry about!  And so the fire burns with no one bothering to put it out. 

So while this king becomes more unnerved he kicks more of the adults in the room to the curb while begging your pardon about his inept kindergarten.  We don’t have to ask why democracy’s about to die!  Just greet the tweet.  We will be reminded of the selection of the last election and we will be reminded of his abhorrent predilection for lashing out at the meek while hurting the weak.  It’s like the “furniture” of your kids depends on it so you’d better not sit on it!  We all can cry but we all know why.  It’s because of one thing about this mean king.  He is the king of Twitter!  It’s because his heart is cold and bitter. 

Orrin K. Loftin

Copyright?  When what he has tweeted shall be defeated.

20 March 2019

Laying Eggs

Laying Eggs

I thought I’d just do a quick cartoon on laying eggs but as soon as I sat down and thought about it I realized that a little bit more would be required.  The situation has grown too dire for quick quips and quick sips.  We’re in danger.

Building a wall and making Mexico pay for it started out as a joke.  But now no one’s laughing.  No one’s talking about this president in a rhetorical sense, not anymore.  Babies are being separated from their parents who they will never see again.  The president says not to come here illegally and you won’t have problems losing your kids.  And so eggs are being laid, bad ones.

We don’t even talk about the egg laid with Puerto Rico!  There’s still no reason provided as to why the hospital ship was delayed in going to Puerto Rico.  Puerto Ricans being U.S. citizens didn’t help.  Puerto Ricans being human didn’t help.  I guess Puerto Ricans being dark skinned is what doomed them from the help they needed from the greatest economic power in the world.  I guess the president couldn’t afford empathy.  I guess the president couldn’t afford sympathy.  What he could afford was to lay another egg.

The G7 Summit served as a warm up to Helsinki.  I guess it was an effort to get those omelets heated up just right.  The president seasoned our breakfast eggs with disparaging remarks against our allies.  He slow cooked the bonds that once strongly held our allies together.  Then the president turned the eye of the stove all the way up!  It was hell in Helsinki.  The eggs used were rotten.  The president knew this but used them any way.  The smell has gripped the whole world to where everyone is sick.  Democracy vomits profusely as it withers to die.  The president is anxious for another serving.

Oh, did I mention the Muslim ban?  When that egg was laid the crocodiles came out!  They didn’t come out all soft and cuddly.  They came out as mean as their creator.  The president owns this recipe.  He’s proudly the father of the wickedness he birthed.  What we’ve come to find out is that he’s not the only one laying such eggs.  His authoritarian dictator friends are also in the egg laying business.  Soon the world will be populated with such hate.  In reality this has already happened.  So the next time you go to eat some eggs, think about who laid them.  Bon appétit!

Orrin K. Loftin

Copyright?  When you never want these eggs on your face.

July 23^rd, 2018

The Get Over Kings

The Get Over Kings

They think they are smart

They so desperately want to be forever clever

They play games with friendship but, often get found out and fouled out by their own surreptitious rules and, that’s with each and every endeavor

They consistently put in the absolute least amount of effort but, hope and expect the greatest amount of gain in return

They look for money dancing in the streets but, fail to hear the song singing, “Earn it or Burn”

They have unparalleled skill at inventing, contriving and just outright making up excuses[1]

They will break their necks in order not to say anything positive about someone for fear it might boost someone’s self-esteem, something they are low in or, just don’t have.  They will, with great consternation dispute this

They are expert squanderers of time.  If you make any good use of yours they will label you “weird” and, glare at you with an odd angry stare

They will concentrate and calculate every cent that they think that you’ve got.  Never will they ask how you came into making a lot.  They don’t care

They are demons of jealousy.  They will offer to party with you just before an audition

They promote failure?  This goes without saying.  It’s a family tradition

They think they are smart

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer 

Copyright?  When set A’Grift May 2010

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[1] “Excuses are the tools of the incompetent.  Those who specialize in them seldom excel at anything else.” Omega Psi Phi fraternity saying

Curious George

Curious George

Got this new neighbor across the street.  He's meandered over a couple of times and seems to be a kind elderly fellow.  There's one little problem though.  He seems to be fixated on my son.  For real!  Now when he routinely comes over his efforts are singularly focused on what my son is doing.  He's never asked any questions as to the happenings going on with me.  Do I feel slighted?  Of course not but the secret about this Curious George[1] needs to be uncovered.

I guess what sticks out is the fact that Curious George seems to want to know all about my son's college interests.  Most folks in this trailer court don't really care to talk about college, particularly when it's something they chose to outright ignore if not bypass.  As a matter of fact Curious George has mentioned that he has some 5 adult kids.  There's not been a single mention of any of them  pursuing higher education.

Curious George and his wife, who's a nurse, can often be seen doing lawn work, putting in new plants and working on windows.  It's obvious that they are bored and it's also obvious that Curious George has little to do with computers.  So how is it that he always seems to have a thousand questions for my son about computers?  When my son went to tell him the fall courses he had enrolled in you could see Curious George's eyes glaze over from a lack of understanding yet there he was acting as if he were about to start another renaissance!

Though friendly I get the sense that Curious George has very little dealings with black people.  It's also rather obvious that his stereotype of me is that I don't have any college degrees, hence he never queries about my academic pursuits.  He definitely hasn't asked about my writing or music and it is definitely obvious that he will not ever ask me about such pursuits, not when Curious George has to be fixated on what my son is doing.  I can only assume that Curious George might have a laptop around his house because his wife is perhaps a nurse.

Protocol dictates to remain respectful to our elders and so I will remain respectful to good old Curious George.  However, next time he goes to make all of these academic inquiries about my son, I'm going to politely bust him out.  I'm going to ask him why his focus is on my son.  I'm also going to ask him why the interest in such a younger person when it would be more appropriate for him to deal with someone closer to his age group like me.  In all honesty he's never asked anything about me and that includes asking what my name is.  If I were to ask Curious George if he were Cylon and if he were really alive he'd probably grab his chest and faint.  Good.  His nonspeaking wife's a nurse.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When some neighbors should remain strangers.

September 2^nd, 2017

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[1] Eons ago when my son was but I likeI called him "Curious George" so as to pick on him to see what he would do.  He let it be known that he was not "Curious George" and that he was not to be messed with this way and I respectfully never did it again!  Neither of us imagined that eons later we would meet "Curious George".  He's for real.

The Dentist

The Dentist

Even with my gums numb I could fill the drill go in for the kill all thanks to a plaque attack.  I've been taken hostage by tartar with no way to barter and the dentist has a hold on me where I will never be free so it is useless to cop a plea.

I wish to sob because my whole mouth throbs.  I wish to weep in my sleep only to awake because I ache and I don't know how much more of this I can take.  This is the cost of not being willing to floss.  Agony is the boss.

She says my teeth need to be clean in order to maintain good dental hygiene.  I think it's because she enjoys being mean.  I think it's what she does just because torture is her thing with which to make you feel the sting while secretly in her head she joyfully sings.

It's a play where she asks if you're okay while knowing you can scarcely squeak to speak or to even give an odd nod.  All you can think is to pray to god.  How is there tooth decay when the x-ray came out okay?  Why is it that the grim reaper visits and why so many tools to make me drool?

I think she takes me for a fool.  I think it's all about her being cruel.  I think to be meant to be a derelict experiment to test how much strain under which I can endure pain.  She wants to see if I'll cry before I die and that's why she keeps staring me in the eye.  I think she's rinsing my mouth out with lye.

I feel haggard from all of the daggers that do not swerve in stabbing every nerve.  If there were only anesthesia to give me amnesia so that I could forget this murder that's gone south deep in my mouth.  I dare to venture to replace my teeth with dentures.  Perhaps then I could smile for awhile in providing to my torturer disappointment in the next appointment.

It cannot be amended what is intended by this dentist.  She wants me dead.  She wants my gums to have bled.  She wants me to feel the drill to where I become ill  from having blood no more because it's all on the floor.  Every three months this she does just because I've been selected to be resurrected to be nailed to be impaled without the liberty of being able to yell.

Orrin K. Loftin, Explorer

Copyright?  When the dentist brings a new meaning to oral cleaning.

June 21^st, 2014

Hello Andréa

November 18^th, 2010

Hello Andréa: Eye saw you at the bullfight last night.  The look in your eyes was one of sanguine surprise.  Though it’s been awhile since we kissed and reminisced eye see that you still cheerfully smile How could you leave when there were only sweet soft kisses and warm breezes to please us?  The questions rage so loudly in my head that they could wake the deaf and the dead!  Do you still dare to care or have the bountiful dreams of yesterday been completely swept away Eye saw the majestic matador that you adore forever more, throw you a dozen long stem red roses as the crowd deliriously lauded and applauded.  If jealousy is an enemy then at that very moment he chose to be my dear friend until the very end.  If seems that our hearts have grown and been blown apart and mine, like a flower shrivels shivers and withers in the dark Wasn’t it neat how we always use to meet greet and eat on Market Street?  My memory is like a dusty road with no real place to go.  How can you stand the strain and pain of the stinging rain or has your new pearl of a world grown clouds that powder puff the sky with sunny weather that will last forever Eye saw you frantically gasp and then with disbelief and relief leisurely laugh as your soulful suitor yelled at the old bold bull who had knocked him down to the ground with a thudding sound.  If you could see my soul you would know it had been stampeded and trampled into a cold hole where it will grow old with mold.  Maybe it is for the best that we end this love quest but my spirit is in protest and will not allow me to rest Could it be that you and eye are an anomaly that was meant to be together forever?  Eye don’t know what eye don’t know and can it be clearly and sincerely explained to me why it hurts the more eye search?  What can eye do to be with you Eye saw you at the bullfight last night.  The mighty matador that you lovingly adore could not police the beast that you have unleashed within me nor can eye, so eye choose to die rather than say,… Good Bye, Andrew:  Your One and Only Toy of Joy

Thought Process Version 1.0, Process 365

    So there I was crying.  There were tears all up in my eyes!  For what was diagnosed as a peptic ulcer the sucralfate prescribed was not working.  And figuratively there was dad hovering over my right shoulder while saying, "Are you really going to fag out and call the ambulance over something as simple as this?"   I held out for as long as I could.  The ambulance came.  I was so tore up that they had to help me up from the steps and walk me to the ambulance.  Damn near needed a gurney!   I was treated right away at the hospital.  Whatever they gave me for pain worked right away.  My son picked me up.  He watched some Stargate Universe while I recuperated in bed.  The pain medication started wearing off!  The stomach agony was slowly returning, right along with the unbearable ghost I had just endured.  I called the Veterans Administration hospital clinic here at Great Falls.  They asked about pantoprazole.  I had it but wasn't taking it because I had been using the sucralfate.  When I took the pantoprazole things got back to improving right away, thank God!  Later I came to find out that my stomach problems may have been caused by my hyperthyroid condition.  So I'm getting treated for that as well.  If you could make someone's stomach hurt like that you could get any information you wanted out of them and even make them do unimaginable shit.  So I kept the emergency room bracelet as a memento.  I'm glad I called the ambulance so fuck you, the ghost of dad[29]! 

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[29] Dad doesn't believe in going to the hospital unless you're dead or something worse.

Orrin K. Loftin

Copyright?  When it is what it is.

30 Oct 2017