(Editor’s note: this week’s post is dedicated to my buddy Jennifer, another of my co-workers at Publix, where she works in the bakery. Putting Jen in the bakery is a case of perfect “casting”, ‘cause she is a major sweetie. If I had a high-wattage smile like hers and know what I know, I’d be in trouble all the time. Happy apple fritters, buddy.)
The response from many of the loyal readers of the WATRUK blog (all several of them) to last week’s column on the launching of RUKME (ALL THE NEWS, SOME OF THE TIME, OCCASIONALLY), the brand-new “R U KIDDING MEDIA EVENTS” News Service and Laundromat has been overwhelming, to say the least. (Okay, maybe more like underwhelming.) Although I haven’t kept any figures, the feedback has been mostly positive, with one or two notable exceptions, which I’ll get to in a moment.
RUKME (pronounced as one word…think Scooby Do) was created with the express purpose of being an alternative to the CNNs, the APs and UPIs, the MSNBC and FOX News outlets, even the National Enquirer, to give a new “slant” to the news…and as soon as I wrote that, I immediately decided to make that phrase the slogan for the world’s latest news organization.
A NEW SLANT TO THE NEWS.
Like those clowns at all of the above, especially FOX News, don’t slant things enough already.
(You’d think I was getting paid to use the words “new” and “news” judging from the last couple of paragraphs, wouldn’t you? As a matter of fact, I am.)
So here’s what some of the Cap’n’s fans had to say about RUKME…
~From President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump:
“So good to hear about a new reporting agency…hope you’re more fair then the FAKE NEWS Washington Post or New York Times. Even FOX News has gone over to the LOSERS side lately. NO COLLUSION, NO OBSTRUCTION, NO STRIPPERS.”
~From Jeff Bezos, Bajillionaire Owner of Amazon and the Washington Post:
“Cap’n John, best of luck with your RUKME news service…I’m sure you’ll give the Post a run for its money. By the way, if you sign up for Amazon Prime right now for only $100,000 annually, you’ll receive, absolutely free, an autographed copy of my new book, How To Make A Million Without Using Daddy’s Money.”
~From Pete Buttigieg, Mayor of South Bend IN and candidate for the 2020 Democratic Party Presidential Nomination:
“Looking forward to hearing how RUKME reports the news…it has to be better than those douche-bags at FOX. By the way, I hope you get the pronunciation of my name right: its FAR-BLE-TOOTS. Best of luck.”
~From Mark Zuckerberg, owner of Facebook, Instagram and YouTube:
“I hope RUKME isn’t going to report on the 27 million Facebook accounts created by Russian troll-farms that were active during the 2016 Presidential election; to date, we have deleted three of them, and are investigating another seven or eight. Facebook and Instagram are committed to keeping these kinds of organizations off of social media, to ensure blah, blah, blah, yada, yada, yada.”
~From Stephen King, author and liberal activist:
“I categorially deny the allegations in your post of 5/17/19; I was NOT abducted by Langoliers, was not subjected to any sick, disgusting, gross, vile, perverted, repulsive, gross, deplorable or perverted sex acts by them (although I would have liked to have been) and I am most certainly not a “far-left liberal snot-wad”. If you persist in making these spurious and completely false allegations against me, I will be forced to take legal action, including both sanctions against the WATRUK blog and having your peenie whacked. Good luck with your new agency.”
~From I. Dontknow Howe, of the law firm Dewey, Cheatem and Howe:
“I represent Mr. Malcolm Glazer, owner of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers football team, who you viciously maligned in your post of 5/17/19; this letter is to advise you that, should you continue your libelous remarks re Mr. Glazer’s incredibly shitty football team and organization, or make any further mention of his alleged support for the legalization of psilocybin and it’s use by his football team and its players, we will be forced to seek any and all legal remedies as may be available to us, as well as having your peenie whacked seriously. Have a nice day.”
~From Mr. Yogi Berra, former MLB player and Hall of Fame member:
“When you come to a fork in the road, take it. Good luck with that new thing you’re doing.”
~From Lori Laughlin, actor and arrogant snot-wad:
“I was going to ask you, as a favor from one media god to another, not to report on the allegations against myself and my husband involving bribing University of Southern California officials to guarantee our daughter’s admission to the school; it wasn’t our fault she was too stupid to get in on her own. However, considering how important I am, I decided not to. You may kiss my ring, peasant.”
~From Mr. Benjamin Franklin, First American:
“Best of luck with your RUKME news agency, and remember, in wine there is wisdom, in beer there is freedom and in water there is bacteria.”
And finally this one from Ms. Rose Garden, which was the most curious of all the letters and messages I received; it seems like Ms. Garden thought, based on my breath-taking intelligence (high) and tremendous influence as a “media god” (zero), that I could be of some assistance with the myriad problems she has involving a number of laws here in the Gunshine State of which she has run afoul recently.
I hope you’ll report my story on your RUKME news service; I’m further hoping someone will read it and be able to help me.
I’m a “neighbor” of yours, living near Pensacola FL, and I recently ran into a string of troubles that is truly unbelievable.
I’m a single women, and a former employee of the Ringling Bros., Barnum and Bailey Circus, which as you probably know used to be located here in Florida and is now out of business. As a legacy and remembrance of my years with the circus, I was allowed to keep one of the elephants I trained, as well as a small hand-cart used for selling ice cream around the circus grounds.
My troubles started on a recent Sunday, when as a treat to myself, I went sky-diving for the first time. I contacted a local sky-diving service, arranged for a flight, went aloft, did my jump, had the most exhilarating experience of my life and upon landing was detained by two officers of the Pensacola PD, who asked me if I was a married women. When I answered with much confusion that I was not, I was immediately arrested and charged with being an unmarried women parachuting on a Sunday. To say I was flabbergasted would be the second largest understatement of the century.
I was jailed, posted bond, which took all the cash I had in my bank account, and after being found guilty at a trial the following month, was fined the entire amount of my bond.
I was now penniless, so in an effort to raise money, I rode my elephant, Mitch, who I named after the biggest Dumbo in the Senate, into downtown Pensacola, with my ice cream cart in tow behind. I tied Mitch to a parking meter, but having no money, put nothing in it. I left him and took the cart to the business place of a friend, the owner of a Baskin-Robbins, who had promised to give me some ice cream to sell. When I returned to check on Mitch, I found that I had received a ticket that carried a $50 fine for parking an elephant without feeding the meter.
I was so distraught I just started walking down the street, pushing my ice cream cart and leaving Mitch at the curb with the parking ticket dangling from his tusk. About a half-block down from where I left him, I came to a small cemetery, and needing to sit for a moment and gather my thoughts, I entered, found a bench and sat down to rest.
I had only been sitting for a few minutes when a Pensacola police car drove up; two officers exited the car and walked over to me. They asked if the ice cream cart was mine, and when I told them yes, I was arrested again for selling ice cream in a cemetery.
They took me to the police station, and when they were emptying my pockets, they asked if I had any money on me. When I told them that I did not, they informed me that it was against the law to have less than $10 in a person’s possession at all times, and I was further charged with pecuniary strangulation.
By now it was getting late in the afternoon, and I hadn’t eaten all day, so one of the officers kindly got me a bean burrito, which I ate while I was sitting on a bench outside of night court, waiting to be arraigned.
About a half hour went by and Cap’n John, I just couldn’t help it; I suddenly had the worst case of gas ever. I tried to keep it in, but no power on Earth was going to stop this explosion. I finally gave up, and out it all came, in a thunderous rush of methane. I had barely finished expelling when a Deputy of the court walked over, waving his arms around his head and face, and informed me that there would be another charge added to the list for which I was waiting to appear before the judge to answer…it seems that it’s illegal in Florida to fart in public after 6:00pm.
I hope you can use your influence or in some way do something to help me, otherwise I won’t get out of jail until February 2023.
Love and gavels,
Post Script…all of the above laws are currently on the books here in Florida…as if the ‘gators, the Palmetto bugs, the hurricanes and the gun-toting Republicans weren’t bad enough.
Post Post Script…yes, Yogi and Ben are dead. So sue me.