“All we can know is that we know nothing. And that’s the height of human wisdom.”
Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
(images of both a White and Black Russian Liquor.com)
I’m changing my original order from a White Russian to that of a Black Russian
because by the time these shenanigans are all said and done, none of us will be able to
afford cream…forget the liquor!
Maybe just make mine a glass of ice.
Back in the day…those heady days of the mid 70’s when disco, along with some
smooth jazz via Barry White, were the various kings of the airwaves while we were busy turning 18—
of which was the legal drinking age in the state of Georgia—life was feeling pretty good.
We could be seen boldly sashaying into many a bar with our very own and very real legal IDs in hand
as we no longer needed to borrow a friend’s or use the fake stuff.
It was most likely some backgammon bar or a place where a guy was playing folk music on a guitar…
as we’d plop ourselves down at a table or, if we were feeling really daring, we’d saddle up
to the highly polished mahogany bar.
The bartender had a bit of a ‘fro,’ glasses and a mustache while nonchalantly asking what we’d like.
Practically salivating in anticipation over ordering something that sounded oh so grown-up
and sophisticated, all the while making certain it was something palatable and
equally sweet and appealing to our most youthful and naive tastebuds, we’d place our order.
The favorites were the White Russian, an Amaretto Sour, a Tequila Sunrise or even a Grasshopper.
Things drunk out of coups, highballs or old fashion glasses.
Feeling our oats and checking our pockets or wallets, we might be known to order another
or equally ready to settle up our tab while making a hasty retreat to the lucky house whose
friend’s parents were out of town for that weekend’s party where the kegs were tapped and
ready…all the while finding suds comfortably more suitable to our beginner’s palates.
This small walk down memory lane comes on the heels of the most recent news coming out of DC.
If we can ever figure out how to black out the news from that small, yet massive district in our lives,
we might be better off.
Falling back to the days of the telegraph, telegrams or pony express might be a nice respite.
But I digress.
So in case, you missed it…
the Russians aren’t coming nor were they ever coming in the first place.
But didn’t we really know this all along???
Okay, so now what you ask???
I’ve made an executive decision on behalf of all tax paying Americans.
I’m going to call that “One call that’s all” sleaze-bag of a lawyer
whose commercials must be nationally syndicated.
The guy who promises help if you’ve been hurt in an accident.
Ok, so why does ambulance chaser come to mind??
But again, I digress.
Well, maybe we haven’t been hurt in an accident, but none the less, our wallets and savings
sure have been hurt—-
along with our faith in this assinine political world of ours.
I don’t care if you like Trump or hate his guts,
the one thing that we all need to share is the disdain for the egregious amount of
taxpayer dollars that have gone into this now two-year-old investigation
of rabbit holes and fairy tales.
35 million Muller bucks alone.
So yes, I think we the taxpayers of America need a ‘one call that’s all’ sort of lawyer who
is going to defend us for all of our pain and suffering.
We’re going to sue all of the Democrats… and a few Republicans for good measure.
We’ll sue the major television networks and several cable networks.
We’ll sue their reporters, pundits and opinion makers.
We’ll sue basically all of Hollywood, the entertainment industry, late night show hosts,
the music industry and anyone and everyone who jumped on the Russian bandwagon.
We’ll sue the journalism industry, those newspapers and magazines chomping at the headline bit…
Heck, we’ll sue colleges and their off-the-chain whacky professors.
We’ll sue over safe spaces for the snowflakes who want to spend all day crying.
We’ll sue everyone and anyone who thought 35 million dollars of taxpayer money was a wise decision
to use toward an endless investigation into nothingness.
So once our ‘one call that’s all’ lawyer gets us all our money back…
as his previous clients certainly boast, we’ll once again be able to afford cream
for our Black Russians, making them decadent White Russians and heck,
we’ll even use Tito’s American made vodka.
Cheers to the American people!!!!
We want our money back!!!
When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth,
for he will not speak on his own authority, but whatever he hears he will speak,
and he will declare to you the things that are to come.