When I was living up in Northern Illinois, home of Chicago style hot dogs (no ketchup!), the original McDonalds and O’Hare International Airport (the “Irish rabbit”, as a friend of mine used to say), I had a neighbor who was an avid hunter/fisherman…he was also a bit of a horse’s ass as well, but that has no bearing on this story. His name was Hunter. (Okay, “Fisher” would have been funny too, but who the hell names their kid “Fisher”? That’s almost as bad as those people on that ‘50s sit-com that named their kid “Beaver”.)

Hunter the hunter had all the equipment…the shotguns, the camo outfits, the gun safe, the vibrating larchmont, the fly rods, the piston rods, the special lures, the deer urine (don’t ask), a horned scully and a three valve tuba.

The one thing he didn’t have was a good hunting dog.

Oh he and his wife had a dog; actually, it was her dog. A Chihuahua…his name was Chico. Any time someone rang their doorbell, Chico the Chihuahua would go into hysterics, begin barking frantically, heroically, then after a few minutes he’d turn and run across the room, lift his leg and pee on their sofa.

The only thing that kept Hunter the hunter from strangling Chico the Chihuahua was the fact that he knew his wife would make him sleep on the couch if he did, thus ending his access to his conjugal rights and forcing him to endure the smell of dog urine all night.

So Hunter the hunter decided, with his wife’s reluctant blessing, that he was going to get himself a hunting dog, a blue-ribbon retriever to accompany him on his forays into the wilderness in search of game.

He got the name of a breeder from a friend and called the guy to make an appointment to drive out to the man’s farm to see what he had. The Breeder Guy told him over the phone that he, BG, had all kinds of hunting dogs, in all different price ranges. Hunter said he would be out the next morning.

Next day he heads out to the Breeder Guy’s place, and the guy indeed had quite a number of four-legged hunters. He had Labradors, Goldens, Chesapeakes, pointers, you name it, if it dove in the water and retrieved a dead animal after you shot it, he had it.

He even had Jesus Retrievers.

What the hell is a Jesus Retriever? asked Hunter the hunter, when BG mentioned the name. Never heard of it.

Oh, says BG, rare breed. Excellent dogs, very smart, learn how to “hunt” quickly, they can be taught to point, retrieve, row the boat, recite poetry, and most amazing, they never get wet when they retrieve…they run across the top of the water.

Bullshit, says H the h.

Tell you what, says BG, I have a one-year old bitch here (Hunter says, yeah, I have one of those at home who’s 35) who is already trained…she knows hand signals, she’s smart as a whip, beautiful coat, she’s housebroken and speaks three languages. Lemme’ show you.

So he showed Hunter the Jesus Retriever bitch, and she was everything BG had said. Hunter loved her.

You write me a check says BG, post-date it 30 days, take her out next weekend (the first weekend of duck season) and if she doesn’t do what I’ve told you, you bring her back. If she does, call me and I’ll cash that check next month.

Hunter the hunter thought, shit, why not? So he did. (He named her Mary.)

So Hunter took Mary out duck-hunting the next weekend, and she was amazing, and yes, she ran right across the top of the water when she retrieved.

Now H the h had a buddy, a co-worker that was one of those “anything you have I have something better” types…if you had a fast car, he had one faster. If you had a great gun, his was better. If you could play The Minute Waltz in 59 seconds, he could play it in 57, and if you had an enormous “schawnzsthuka”, his was bigger.

Great guy.

Now Hunter the hunter is thinking he’s finally going to shut his buddy up once and for all…when he sees Mary the Jesus Retriever, he’s gonna’ flip.

So on Monday at work, Hunter mentions to the buddy that he has this new dog, amazing animal, and that Buddy has to see it. You’ve never seen a dog like this…best dog ever. Buddy says his Lab is the best and H the h says, no way, mine’s better.

They make plans to go out the following weekend so Buddy can see Mary work.

And they did…and she did. Right across the top of the water when Hunter brought down a duck.

Buddy doesn’t say a word, but a moment later, there goes another mallard, and Buddy turns, brings it down and, sure enough, there goes Mary the Jesus Retriever right across the water; the only thing that got wet were her paws and her stomach, just a little, from the splashing.

Whatta’ think of her, says Hunter the hunter, getting ready to gloat when Buddy had to eat crow for a change.

Buddy looks Hunter right in the eye and says, can’t swim, huh?

(Reader will insert rim-shot here.)


We interrupt this column to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! from the RUKME News Desk…

-Dateline Washington D. C.

*Trump IQ Tests Show Interesting Results*

In an exclusive story from the Washington Post today, in a response to an earlier inquiry from the newspaper, Ms. Laurel Enhardy, one of President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump’s teachers at the prestigious New York Military Academy, where he attended school from the 6th through the 8th grades, was quoted as saying that, in results from a Stanford-Binet Intelligence Test, the President had an IQ level “that approximated room temperature”. When asked to elaborate, Ms. Enhardy said, “Donald Trump exhibited the IQ of a doorknob. We had to send another boy with him any time he went to the restroom to help so he wouldn’t catch his johnson in his zipper. He was dumber than a California Republican.” When asked by RUKME White House correspondent Warren Peace for a comment on the story, Press Secretary K. Lee McNinny responded, “President Trump has proven by his handling of the Covid-19 pandemic to be a ‘stable genius’, and Joe Biden is going to raise taxes on all American workers over the age of eight and will remove all wheat items from grocery stores.” When it was pointed out to Ms. McNinny that the minimum working age in almost every state is 16, she abruptly left the podium after giving Mr. Peace the finger.

More on this breaking story as it becomes available…

We now return you to your regularly scheduled blog post.

Let’s talk about anthropomorphism…

The classic definition of the word is “the attribution of human characteristics or behavior to an animal or an object”, or in simpler terms, electing a moron like Donald Trump to the Presidency of the United States, thinking he was qualified for the position. Such “characteristics or behavior” might be further illustrated by what happened recently at the Lincolnshire Wildlife Park in Friskney England when five African gray parrots had to be removed from the 200 bird population of the main outdoor aviary because they wouldn’t stop “swearing” at visitors.

Apparently the little fuckers, err, excuse me, the birds were encouraging each other to use “naughty language” and were telling guests to “fuck off”, “blow me” and “go to America and vote Republican” as well as using other terms of profanity. Zoo keepers said the air around the aviary was “blue” with the language and although visitors didn’t seem offended by what they were hearing from the birds, in an effort not to “ruffle any feathers” among the children that are frequent guests, the five offending (offensive) birds, Billy, Eric, Tyson, Jade and Elsie were moved to a different shelter.

After a brief obscenity trial was held in a local court, a verdict of guilty was reached and the birds were then taken out and hung. When asked if they had any last words before sentence was carried out, Tyson, who was the most vocal of the group, cried out, “Give me liberty or fucking give me death, you assholes.” He refused a blindfold and then smoked his last cigarette, just prior to his death.

It has become increasingly clear recently from news reports and stories that there seems to be a concentrated effort being made by members of the animal kingdom to “take over” the human world for nefarious gain, with reports of grinning dogs, and elephants that play jump-rope, skateboarding chimps and shoplifting gulls.

As the Head Pope of the Roving Spastic Church, I want to assure my followers and potential converts to our faith that we, as a Church with a pizza-based dogma, refute and oppose anthropomorphism in all forms, and will continue to resist this insidious attempt by the animal kingdom to subvert and slowly take control of human minds by their actions and deeds.

Do not take this threat lightly…today it’s swearing parrots trying to corrupt citizens with their vulgarities and profanities, tomorrow it will be humans who have been taken over by these furry and feathered fiends, to do the bidding of these bestial interlopers while more of us are being compromised by their animal propaganda and lies.

I stand fore-square against animal rule and domination, and I will continue to urge and to lead my people to resist all attempts to be brainwashed. (Except for being a sucker for puppies…I like puppies.)

Spastics! Believe in your Church! Trust your Faith! Stand tall against the oppressors! Fight the aggression from the animal kingdom!

And please, for god’s sake, let’s not return a guy with the intellectual capacity of a domestic cow to the White House.

Because that’s the most idiotic idea I’ve ever heard.

Hell, Mary the Jesus Retriever is smarter than that.

Love and pet stores,

Cap’n John


(Editor’s Note: This one is for my buddy Megan P., whose been up North and seen “the Bean”, so at least she gets Chicago a little bit.)

A couple of weeks ago, which seems like an eternity in our 24/7, new events happening every 10 seconds, constantly breaking stories, Internet-driven world, I declared myself to be, besides the Captain and Master of the R U Kidding, an “advice columnist”, writing under the nom de plume (that’s Burmese for “alpaca testicles”) of “Ask The Cap’n”, and dedicated myself to the notion that I would be able to right the world’s wrongs, promote justice, encourage folks to floss, ensure domestic tranquility and maybe even occasionally get lucky by addressing all the problems, crises, tribulations and general whining that many of my loyal readers (all several of you) present me frequently in their communications with the Cap’n.

So far, it hasn’t worked so well, but hey, I’ve only been at it for two weeks, gimme’ a break, okay?

In that post I related some of the background of arguably the world’s most famous “advice columnist”, Ann Landers, but I never mentioned the fact that Ann had a twin sister who was also wrote an advice column…yep, “Ann Landers” had a sibling who called herself Abigail Van Buren and wrote an advice column called “Dear Abby”.

Honest to goodness, totally true, “Ann” and “Abby” were twins. Not the Minnesota kind, but you know, the “born at the same time, same egg, mother dressed them in the same ugly matching outfits when they were kids” kind.

You’ll love this…”Ann” was born Pauline Esther Friedman, and her nickname was “Eppie”; “Abby” was born Esther Pauline Friedman, and was known as “Popo”.

Pauline Esther/Esther Pauline…their mother and father suffered from a severe lack of imagination, if you ask me. And “Eppie” and “Popo”, what, are you kidding me? Unless those are some kind of esoteric references to a dueling sword and the Vatican guy, boy, I don’t get those names at all.

Although the sisters were born in Sioux City IA, their fame and notoriety was established back in the decade to which the GOP would love to have us all return, the 1950s, by the competing giants of the Chicago newspaper industry, the Chicago Sun-Times and the Chicago Tribune. “Ann” wrote for the Times, “Abby” wrote for the Trib.

And they hated each other, and didn’t speak for years after “Abby” got started with the Tribune in 1956. “Ann” was once quoted as saying that, “…and the ugly outfits that our Mom used to dress us in were Popo’s fault, and becoming an adult hasn’t improved her taste any, believe me…” and “Abby” shot back that, “I hope she gets a bad case of crotch lice.” (Okay, I made all that up, but the sisters were estranged for many years due to the competition between them as America’s foremost and most popular advice-givers. And yes, they once had to be separated by Sheriff’s deputies at a Bar Mitzvah for Jerry Mathers, that kid who played Beaver on the ’50s TV show Leave It To…, and he wasn’t even Jewish. And if it seems like “Eppie” and “Popo” were bad, who the hell names their kid “Beaver”?)

Chicago has produced a number of other famous sets of siblings, this in addition to being the home of “the blues”, the only river in the world that flows backwards (true), the Twinkie and spray paint. (Back in 1887, the Illinois General Assembly decided, for various and sundry reasons WAY too technical and boring to get into here, to reverse the flow of the river; instead of INTO Lake Michigan, starting in 1900, by using some engineering trickery, the river was made to flow OUT OF the lake, setting an example for the city fathers and the politicians downstate in Springfield, the capital of IL, to do things ass-backwards from that day forward. And yes, Twinkies were invented back in 1930 by a baker for Continental Baking Company out in suburban Schiller Park IL, thus giving Harold Ramis the opportunity to talk about a 600 pound version of the treat in the movie Ghostbusters 54 years later.)

Anyway, Chicago was home to Jim and John Belushi, John and Joan Cusack, Richard M. and William Daley, the sons of Mayor Richard J. Daley, the 800-pound gorilla of Chicago politics all throughout the ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s, and the man who once exhorted the citizens of the Windy City, just prior to a local election, to “vote early and vote often”, thus encouraging our President, Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump, to follow suit decades later, and probably the most famous set of siblings from the Second City, Elwood and Jake, the Blues Brothers.


We interrupt this column to bring you a Breaking! News! Story! From the RUKME News Desk…

-Dateline Washington D.C.

*President Issues Executive Order Nationalizing McDonalds Corporation*

In a stunning move apparently calculated to save millions of taxpayer dollars, President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump today issued an executive order “nationalizing” the McDonald’s Corporation, effectively taking control of the giant hamburger chain and placing it in the hands of the federal government. The Board of Directors for McDonald’s was notified earlier today that Mr. Trump, needing to bolster his sagging poll numbers and hopefully boost his chances of winning reelection in November, had issued the order and that the President would be sending his White House chefs and kitchen staff to the Oak Brook IL based company to take over operations immediately, thus saving taxpayers the millions of dollars that are being spent annually to provide the President and his advisors and family with Big Macs, French fries, chocolate and vanilla shakes, apple pies and an occasional Happy Meal by the truckload. When questioned by RUKME White House correspondent Brooke Trout about the move, the President was quoted as saying that he felt it necessary “because of the terrible prices that the Mickey D’s people have been charging us for their food.” The President went on to say that, “McDonald’s is a great, great American company, founded by that tremendous American Ron Brock, and I didn’t want to do this, but the great, great taxpayers of this country were paying way, way too much for lunch, and I know that Sleepy Joe Biden will allow terrible, terrible people to run crazy in the streets if he’s elected, and I want to make sure, you know, that Commiela Harris doesn’t control any Mickey D’s soup either, so it can’t be used by rioters and thugs and you should all vote twice, since the election will be rigged if we allow mail-in voting.”

More on this breaking story as it becomes available…

We now return you to our regularly programed blog post…

Considering the overwhelming response I got to the announcement and first edition of the “Ask The Cap’n” advice column, I thought I would give you, my loyal readers, another edition.

And so…

“Dear Cap’n:

                I was invited to an informal summer wedding recently, and I wore summer weight dress slacks and a nice “flat bottom hem” dress shirt untucked. Most of the male guests were similarly attired, and the women for the most part wore casual, flowery summer dresses, etc. All except my genius son-in-law, a man in his 40’s, who showed up in cargo shorts, an untucked, wrinkled polo shirt and sandals. So here’s my question…should I act like I don’t know this jerk when we’re out in public or just send him a copy of Miss Manner’s book, “How To Dress Like An Adult Instead of a Middle School Moron For All Occasions”? (P.S. I was helping my youngest grandson with his spelling one evening last week and asked him to spell the word “tunes”…when my grandson hesitated, his Mr. Class father, who was also in the room at the time, looked up and said, “You know, like the ‘toons you see on TV on Saturday mornings.”)

                My Daughter Married A Trump Supporter”

Dear “Supporter”:

                I bet he belongs to the NRA as well, doesn’t he?

“Dear Cap’n:

               I’m a voter living in Berwyn IL, just down the road from Oak Brook where the McDonald’s headquarters is located, and I’m undecided about who to vote for in the upcoming Presidential election. I mean, Joe Biden is a good man and a political moderate, and Kamala Harris looks like a excellent candidate with a strong background as a prosecutor, but President Trump says he’s going to lower the price of Big Mac’s now that the government has taken over Mickey D’s, and because of that, I’m leaning towards Trump. Which one should I give my vote to, the decent guy who can probably save America or the fast-food King?

                Two All Beef Patties, Special Sauce, Lettuce Pray The Right Guy Wins”

Dear “Lettuce’:

                Tell you what, vote for Biden and I’ll send you a dozen books of McDonald’s coupons.

“Dear Cap’n:

                If x1=56.9/x2*piR2+tax(44.569/sharks) annually, how do I solve for the formula for apple fritters?

                Baking By The Numbers”

Dear “Baking”:

                If the expression piR2=homily, then the coefficient of the equation XXL dominant is not applicable, therefore making the sum of the bitch undetermined spatially.

“Dear Cap’n:

                Can you provide me with any scientific evidence that supports the theory of “virgin birth”? Because my sister and I cannot begin to imagine our parents having ever had, well, you know, sex.

                Could This Be the Immaculate Exception?”

Dear “Exception”:

                I could never imagine that either, I mean, your parents having sex. At least not with each other.

The rest of the letters that I have from you guys that I haven’t answered are mostly offers of marriage, invitations to lunch at McDonald’s or indecent proposals involving blenders, a clarinet, two used tires and a 55-gallon drum of Cool Whip (those get my immediate and personal attention), so I suppose I should probably stop here before I say something that might result in a felony charge.

Did you guys know that McDonald’s now offers Chocolate Chip Cookies? I sure hope PTB doesn’t find that out, otherwise he’ll balloon up to a half ton.

Love and the Golden Arches,

Cap’n John


“…so she hobbles over and says, hey, big fellow, you want date, and I wasn’t even sure she was talking to me at first, but there wasn’t anybody else out there at the time.”

“So whatd’ja tell her, Fred?” asked the King, smirking a little.

“I said excuse me, and she said, hey, I take you ‘round world, 50 bucks. Obviously I said no thank you. Shame too, ‘cause she was totally hot.”

(Voice coming from the control booth over an intercom in the studio)

“Ah, guys, we’re on live…”

“Shit, why the, are you, never mind…children, can you say prostitute? No, wait, that’s not what I meant…damn.”


Good whatever time of the day it is wherever you are, ladies and gentlemen, and I assume that covers most of you, I’m Thor Buttucks and I’m here in the RUKME News Center with a !!SPECIAL RUKME REPORT!! (How’s that for high drama?)

The outstanding RUKME (R U Kidding Media Events, pronounced as one word…think Scooby Doo) Investigative Team has obtained an exclusive copy of an audio tape of a recent meeting at the White House between President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump and a number of his top advisors, concerning the government’s response to the newest threat to America, Covfefe-20, known throughout the land as the dreaded “cartablancavirus”. (For those of you unfamiliar with Mexican beers, that’s pronounced CAR TA BLAHNKA VI RUS, which is Burmese for “iguana spleens”.)

To our knowledge, there was no video recording of the meeting, only this audio tape which RUKME obtained through dubious sources. Despite the lack of “optics” (hey, there’s a good phony-bullshit media word for you), we were able through voice recognition and comparison to identify most the meeting’s attendees; those we were unable to identify are labeled “MALE/FEMALE NOID #whatever”.

Here is the tape in its entirety, including all malapropisms, mistakes, profanity etc.


President “Tweety Bird”: “So what the hell are they calling this new bug?”

Jared “Kush” Kushner, Presidential Advisor and Son-In-Law and WH Procurement Guy: “They’re calling it the “cartablancavirus”, Dad.”

PTB: “Don’t you call me “Dad”, you little shitbrain weasel, it’s your fault we got in that mess with the “balognavirus” or whatever they were calling it. It was your brilliant idea to go with, oh, this virus is no big deal, not near as bad as the flu, it’ll pass, no need to worry, blahdy fucking blah blah blah, and you saw how far THAT went. Sit there and keep your mouth shut. You, yeah you, what’s your name?”

Mark Meadows, Acting (another one) Chief of Staff: “Ah, I’m Mark Meadows, Mr. President; I’m your new Chief of Staff, remember?”

PTB: “Yeah, that’s who I thought you were. Okay, Chief of Staff, how ‘bout finding out where the hell lunch is, ‘cause I’m getting’ pretty effin’ hungry here. You wanna’ look into that, Mr. Chief of Staff?”

Meadows: “Yes, Your Grace, immediately Your Grace.” (A chair scrapes and footsteps are heard here, hurrying across the floor, and in the moment before a door slams, Meadows is heard to yell “Hey, does anyone know what time McDonald’s is delivering today’s load of Big Macs?”)

PTB: “Okay, back to this Covfefe-20 shit…how serious is this one? I mean, will it kill more than say, 10% of the populace, ‘cause honestly, I can live with 10% fatalities if it doesn’t torpedo the ratings numbers. Remember people, we took a serious bath with that pomonavirus, and we’re still catching hell.”

“Kush”: “Ah, Dad, I think it’s “coronavirus”, not “pomonavirus”. Pomona is a city in Southern California.”

PTB: “What did I tell you about sitting there with your mouth shut, huh? One more word from you, asshole, and I’ll have you taken out and shot.”

MALE NOID #1: “Ah, sir, excuse me, but technically, you don’t have the authority to have someone shot, sir, Your Eminence.”

PTB: “What!?! You mean I can’t have his useless ass shot if he pops off again…geez, what kind of world did those asshole Democrats and that ni…”

Tonka Trump, daughter of PTB and Wife of “Kush” interrupts: “Dad, don’t say it. Remember what you promised about saying that word…you can’t give people the impression you’re a racist.”

PTB: “Racist? Racist? Bullshit, I’m no more racist than Rush Limbaugh. What a crock! Hey, I have black friends, what’s his name, the science guy, you know, Kneel in the Grass Mike Tyson or something like that, I think he’s so great.”

Melonoma Trump, FLOTUS: “He hates you.”

PTB: “Ah, Mel, that’s not true. Hey, I like blacks, I think everyone should own two or three. Bwa-ha-ha-ha…

(There is a great explosion of Presidential laughter here, followed almost immediately by general laughter around the table from everyone else. The Presidential laughter stops abruptly after several moments, as does all the other laughter in the room, immediately.)

PTB: “I love that joke. You know where I heard that? Ben Carson. Yeah. No, I’m just kidding, I heard it from Obama. Yeah, right before he left, he pulls me aside and tells me…honest.”

Melo: “You heard it from your father.”

PTB: “Yeah, okay, it might have come from Dad. Hey, can we get back to how we’re going to handle this new virus thingie? What’s it called again? Cartoonblanketvirus? Is that right?”

Dr. Bram Renfield, Head of CDC: “Ah, it’s being called the cartablancavirus, Your Worship.”

PTB: Cartablanca? That’s another Mexican beer, isn’t it? Like Corona. What’s up with that? Hey, that reminds me, did those assholes from Mexico ever pay for the wall like I told them to? You remember, I told what’s his face, Jose Felicano Tierra Del Fuego, you know, their Pres, that if he didn’t pony up the money for the border wall that I’d deport all the drug-pushers and rapists and criminals right back to them.”

Melo: “It’s mostly the decent, hard-working ones that come here.”

PTB: “Yeah, it was a pretty stupid threat. Okay, what’s our response to Covfefe-20? Pants, any ideas?”

Mike Pence, Vice-President: “Ah, Your Wonderfulness, that’s Pence, P-E-N-C-E.”

PTB: “Oh, PENCE, all this time I thought it was Pants. I always wondered if you had a brother named Dropyour. Anyway, you got any ideas on how to keep me from getting my tit in another ringer?”

Pence: “Ah, no sir, I have no ideas whatsoever. If you recall, Your Worship, you told me when you offered me the position of VP that I was to not express nor to in fact even have any ideas. Ever. You told me all I’m supposed to do is be the token Christian.”

PTB: “Well, then you’re not much help, are you? Sit over there next to Dummy and keep your mouth shut too.” (The sliding of chairs and steps crossing the floor are heard in the background.)

Tucker Carlson, FOX News Commentator: “Mr. President, your Eminence, I have some thoughts about how we might approach this problem from a “PR” standpoint. I’ve made up a brief PowerPoint presentation, take just a couple of minutes, with your permission, Your Grace?”

PTB: “Yeah, go ahead, Tucker. What the hell kinda’ name is Tucker, anyway? Shit, were your parents socialists or something?”

Carlson: “No, sir, they were Episcopalians. Soo, I thought that it might be best, from the “rosy picture” point of view, to emphasize the positive aspects of contracting cartablancavirus, compared to other less “glamorous” diseases. Let me show you what I had in mind…”

(There is a general shuffling of papers and some miscellaneous meeting noises before an announcer’s voiceover is heard through the speakers of a computer device.)

“Are you suffering from ABL, or as it’s known by its formal name, Accidental Bowel Leakage? Or maybe you’ve been cursed with the heartbreak of psoriasis? Has your doctor just recently given you the bad news that you have all the symptoms of sclerosis of the blowhole? Well my friends, those are serious problems indeed, but they’re NOTHING compared to the new sheriff in town, COVFEFE-20, the cartablancavirus! You want to impress your friends? Tell’em hey, I’ve got cartablancavirus! No sissy flu or hemorrhoids for you, big guy, you go ALL THE WAY! And ladies, this is THE LATEST! This is yoga pants with a bullet! Be the first in your group to become infected! Cartablancavirus…coming SOON! to a crowded restaurant or airport terminal or classroom near you!”

Meadows (is heard to rush back in the room, a little breathless): “Your Holiness, the McDonald’s delivery van is here, and lunch is served, sir, Your Grace.”

PTB: “Well, it’s about time.” (Sounds of sandwiches being unwrapped and consumed and drinks being slurped and packets of ketchup being squeezed and occasional belches are heard for the next few minutes…)


There is a great deal more on the audio tape of this meeting between President Trump and his senior advisors, and RUKME will “air” Part II next Thursday, 3/26/20, right here on the Welcome Aboard The R U Kidding blog.

We return you now to our regularly scheduled program, Full House, S3E5, where Mary Kate attacks, kills and then eats her twin sister Ashley in a disagreement over personal hygiene.

Love and Dos Equis,

Cap’n John

Post Script…props to Colin Mochrie, he of the infamous (and hysterical) Whose Line Is It Anyway? cast, for the “Thor Buttucks” name. I really, really miss those guys.


(Please note…before anyone busts my chops for being irreverent towards the late Stephen Hawking, let me say that I bow to no one in my respect for Mr. Hawking; that he was a brilliant and courageous man of great character is unquestioned. This is humor (I hope) and should not be taken seriously.)

Now I could be wrong about this, but I doubt it.

I’m convinced that the high quality of the educational experience that we offer here at the Antonin Scalia School of Holistic and Organic Legal Education, of which I am the Headmaster, Dean of Education and custodian, which as I noted in my post from 11/18/17 (“IT’S ONLY HIGHER LEARNING IF YOU’RE STANDING ON A LADDER”) pays better than janitor, is the reason I got the letter that I received just last week, and I have to tell you, I’m excited.

Of course, my work for the school is in addition to my duties as Captain and Master of the R U Kidding; like the Hydra from Greek mythology, I am capable of wearing many hats.

ASSHOLE has been quickly gaining a reputation for heightened learning, through the various courses of study that we offer; as you can see from this sampling below (below, down there), our curriculum is varied and broad in scope, and is intended to give our students a strong foundation for their legal training by exposing them to a number of other disciplines.

~Adventures In Animal Husbandry 101…this is a video course designed to give the student a comprehensive understanding of animals and their mating practices. (Student participation is encouraged in this course.)

~Treatment Modalities For The Chronically Bewildered 201…delves into the manner that doctors approach the handling and care of bewildered patients. (Requires successful completion of Psychology For Dummies 101).

~The High Art Of The Bong 100…in-depth look at the art and craftsmanship that goes into the making of bongs.

~Legal Fees And Billings 201…this course addresses the most basic tenet of an attorney’s skill set in an increasingly litigious world. (Requires the successful completion of Lawyering For Fun And Profit 101. Course is taught by Mr. Howard Dewey, of the law firm Dewey Cheatem and Howe.)

~Sociology 301: The Making Of The President 2016…explores the election of President Donald Trump and the subsequent denigration of integrity, honesty and class in America. (Guest speakers to include Ms. Stephanie Clifford and Ms. Karen McDougal.)

At ASSHOLE, our motto is simple… “Laws are the foundation of a good lawsuit”.

I received the letter that I alluded to above (see above, up there) from a Mr. Frank Lee Scarlett, who identified himself as the father of one of our students, as well as being the President and CEO of Idont Giveadam Industries. Mr. Scarlett’s son, Frank Jr., is enrolled at ASSHOLE as a Senior, and is on the Dean’s List; he should graduate Summa Cum Laude with our 2018 graduating class, achieving a Bachelor of Arts degree in Legal Tomfoolery, excuse me, Legal Education.

Mr. Scarlett got quickly to the point in his letter; he had been so impressed with our curriculum, embodied by a quiz that his son showed him from a course Frank Jr. took earlier this year, Current Events 400, and he queried me on the establishment of a second school of learning on campus, allowing us to become a university, which he would be willing to endow.

He cited several questions on the quiz that had influenced his decision, and in the interest of showing my readers the type of educational strength we have here at ASSHOLE, I’m going to share with you, as Mr. Scarlett did with me, those questions. (And good luck stopping me now, Bubba.)

*Question #1- Explain why the word “l-i-m-a” is pronounced “leema” when referring to a city in Ohio, but is pronounced “lyema” when referring to the legume. Cite precedents to support your explanation.

*Question #2-In his post of 4/6/18, (“I HOPE HE DOESN’T START ANYTHING WITH BURMA EITHER”), Cap’n John Krissongs speaks to an attache’ from the Japanese Embassy in Tampa FL; what was his name?

[]             a) Mr. Topo Gigio

[]             b) Mr. Sheezabad Mammajama

[]             c) Ms. Tokyo Rose

[]             d) all of none of all of the above

*Question #3-The Republican Party in America is often referred to as the “GOP”; what does this stand for?

[]             a) nothing, like the Party itself

[]             b) Grand Old Party

[]             c) Guns Or Perish

[]             d) all of the above

*Question #4-Name three states in which voters supported President Donald “Tweety Bird” Trump in the 2016 Presidential election.

[]             a) confusion, ignorance and Rapture

[]             b) Wisconsin, Michigan and Pennsylvania

[]             c) confusion, ignorance and Rapture, redux

[]             d) any state where the cumulative IQ level is slightly below that of a doorknob, three times

*Question #5-“I Fought The Law And The Law Won” is…

[]             a) a pretty cool song from 1966 by the Bobby Fuller Four

[]             b) Donald Trump’s last words before leaving the White House

[]             c) a caramelized persimmon

[]             d) Sheezabad Mammajama

Mr. Scarlett went on in his letter to explain that he has always had a great admiration for higher education, and cited as personal examples of his regard for learning such individuals as Sir Issac Newton, who first articulated the principals of gravity; Albert Einstein, the father of modern physics and the first man to explain relativity with his now famous formula “E=mc2”, which in the states of Wisconsin, Michigan and Pennsylvania is thought to be a sandwich from McDonalds; and most recently, the late Stephen Hawking, the celebrated theoretical physicist and author of the seminal book on cosmology in general, A Brief History of Time.

In fact, Mr. Scarlett informed me in his letter that, should we be able to bring to fruition his dream of endowing a school of advanced learning on our campus, that he would like it to be named after the brilliant English physicist…he said he would like the school to be called the Stephen Hawking Institute of Technology.

I have responded to Mr. Scarlett’s letter very positively, and indicated to him that I would be both pleased and proud to assist in seeing his dream of the SHIT become a reality here on our campus.

Hey, if they can have it in Washington in great copious quantities, we ought to be able to have some here as well.

Love and lesson plans,

Cap’n John


I am stunned.

Yesterday I learned something so disturbing, so unbelievable, so down right Un-
American that for a few moments after I read about this on the ‘Net, I was stunned.

Montpelier, the capital of Vermont, and in fact the smallest state capital in the country, with a population of 7,855 per the 2010 census, 54% of which are women, much to the pleasure of the local men, and home to the New England Culinary Institute and Ben & Jerry’s Ice Cream…

…does not have either a McDonalds or a Burger King within the city limits. (I know a woman who, while pregnant with twins, craved ice cream so much that she and her husband named their newly born twin sons Benjamin and Jerald…damn good thing it wasn’t Haagen-Dazs I suppose.)

This is shocking, to say the least (something I rarely do.)

It occurs to me that this situation is so anti-everything we believe in as Americans that, certainly, some measures must be undertaken to address this calamity. It is unconscionable that the good citizens of this fine, upstanding New England town are required to drive 7-1/2 miles to nearby Barre to get their Big Mac or Whopper fix. 

I think an all-out write-in campaign and media blitz must be launched to convince the corporate hoodoos from both the McDonalds and Burger King chains to look into this matter and take immediate action to alleviate this gross injustice. I urge all of you to please contact someone in Vermont (although the population of Vermont is just over 600,000 people, so it’s possible you won’t know a soul up there) and light a fire under them to get this travesty rectified.

Otherwise, people of the Green Mountain State, you can have no expectations of a visit from President Donald “Tweet ” Trump, given his affection for Big Macs, if you do not.

And I’m sure that Montpelierians (no way I could say that word three times in a row with a couple of adult beverages under my belt) will be as devastated as I would be by this possible snub from the Pres.

Speaking of orgasm allergy (as you can probably tell, I think segues are vastly over-rated), I recently, during one of my several-times daily perusal of for my news fix, came across an article that told the story (plight) of a man I’ll call Mr. O, who suffered from…wait for it…orgasm allergy. 


It seems that Mr. O is a 50-year-old married man, and has suffered from this allergy since the age of 19. Every time he ejaculates, Mr. O “experiences fever, weakness, exhaustion, loss of initiative, headaches, disordered speech, irritability, forgetfulness and frightening dreams, not to mention swollen lips and throat.” Yeah, not to mention. (Needless to say, puberty was the only time sex was any fun for this poor guy.) Further symptoms include loss of a day’s pay, halitosis, hemorrhoids, taxation without representation, voting Republican and rampant mopery. (Oh, the picture above? I couldn’t come up with “art” to depict orgasm allergy, so I decided to throw in a photo of a woman riding an ostrich. Hey, I’m not perfect, okay?)

The article goes on to state that, “The symptoms are so severe that he and his wife plan intercourse for Fridays so he will have two days to recover before returning to work on Monday.” (Then it gets serious.) “HE ALSO SUFFERS FROM PREMATURE EJACULATION, SO THE PROBLEM IS NO PICNIC FOR MS. O EITHER.” (Emphasis was mine.)

Okay, I’m back up at my desk after falling on the floor laughing, although I’m sure there is nothing humorous about this matter to Mr. and Ms. O.

Shit, and I thought I had problems.

Interestingly, Mr. and Ms. O live in Montpelier VT, and there has been speculation by the various doctors there that have treated Mr. O that the lack of good ol’ American fast-food hamburgers could be a causative factor in his case.

So come on, Vermontians, let’s get cracking and get Mr. O the fat-laden, empty calorie burgers that will help him get on the road to recovery.

Because man does not live on ice cream alone.

Love and two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun,

Cap’n John