Viva la Revolucion

Everybody laughs at Dennis Rodman. He is America's favorite, cross-dressing, tattooed, metalhead. His piercings set off alarms at airports five minutes before he arrives. He's dyed his hair every shade of the color chart wheel plus a few other hues not seen before on this planet. He was married to Carmen Electra and linked romantically with Madonna, but then who wasn't? He wore a wedding dress and full make-up to promote his 1996 autobiography, claiming that he was bi-sexual and marrying himself. And his nickname is "The Worm." Rodman is also a seven-time NBA rebounding champion, and a two-time defensive player of the year. He wears five NBA championship rings with the Chicago Bulls and had his number retired by the Detroit Pistons. He entered the Basketball Hall of Fame in 2011. Rodman's drunken bellicosity has cost him his credibility, which is too bad since he's one of the only living Americans to have a laugh with North Korea's Dear Leader, Kim Jong-un.

Rodman went to N. Korea in 2013 to assist their national basketball program, and returned the next year with a group of former NBA players for a tour of the country. Afterward, Rodman claimed Dear Leader was a "friend for life," and that Obama should, "pick up the phone and call Kim," since the two leaders were basketball fans. But he was drunk and verbose upon his return. His agent claimed Rodman had been drinking heavily to an extent "that none of us had seen before," and he promptly entered a rehab facility. But Rodman's message was simple- N. Koreans are nuts over basketball. So, before we enter a second Korean War over a Seth Rogen stoner movie, perhaps we should consider invading with basketball. There is a precedent. In 1971, the U.S. Table Tennis Team was invited to China, where no American had been since 1949. On the team was a redheaded long-haired hippie named Glenn Cowan, and everywhere they went he was mobbed by fans who were perhaps seeing what freedom was for the first time. The press dubbed it "Ping-Pong Diplomacy," and it helped thaw  relations with China leading up to Richard Nixon's famous handshake with Mao Zedong, who enjoyed a game of ping-pong himself. Nelson Mandela once said, "Sport has the power to change the world. It has the power to unite people in a way that little else does."

Speaking of sports, the island of Cuba, one of the last existing communist countries, produces great baseball players. Even Fidel was reputed to be a decent pitcher. Cuban baseball stars like El Duque and Livan Hernandez risked their lives to come to this country. But with Obama's singular destruction of the mummified, Cold-War corpse of calamities lasting from the Kennedy administration, we may soon see some free-agents. The fastest way to transform a communist country is to give them a Major League Baseball franchise. The professional suits should get in there fast. I believe there's already a pretty good ball club in Havana called the Leones. There's a team in Toronto and they're already looking at Mexico City, so let's give the other half of the hemisphere a chance to compete. New York could play Havana and they could bring back all those posters that say, "Cuba, si. Yanqui, no," Over a half century, the CIA has tried to kill Castro by exploding cigars, poison pills, bacteria, LSD, snipers, bombers, and thallium salts to make his beard fall out. Fidel said, "If surviving assassination attempts were an Olympic event, I would win the gold medal." Before another Bay of Pigs, let's invade with pro baseball, Coca-Cola, and Mickey D.

Given the chance, I would love to go to Cuba and habla a little espanol. I'd like to see the marketplace and the old cars. A new car in Cuba is a '57 Buick, but now they can finally get some genuine GM parts. In return, we get the near-mythical Cuban cigar. I smoked a few Hav-a-Tampa jewel sweets with the wooden tip back when I was in college until I realized that the taste was disgusting, but even I would smoke a Cuban cigar just for the hell of it. I could pull one out at a party and scream, "Say hello to my little friend." We can also learn how to say "banana daiquiri" in Spanish and see some of those racy shows where Hyman Roth would never go. I'm sorry. I just love "Godfather" references. One thing's for sure- the Castros can't live forever and their successors don't have personal connections to the revolution. Maybe an MLB all-star team could tour Cuba like the ping-pong team did China. Then dry out Dennis Rodman and make him our Ambassador to North Korea. Even Lil' Kim plays a little ball. Wilt Chamberlain and Kim Jong-un each hold the record for scoring 100 points in a game. The only difference was that Wilt did it with other players on the floor. Let's play ball for a change.

A Soulful Christmas

'Tis the season to be jolly. I don't mean to be a curmudgeon and fire the opening shots in this year's War on Christmas, but the expression, "'Tis the season," grates on my nerves, and that's all you're going to see in every commercial and advertisement from now until Christmas. Even in editorials and and TV talk shows, someone will inevitably say, "'Tis the season." We don't say, ''Tis nice to meet you," or, "'Tis a beauteous evening," without deserving a backhand across the cheek with a leather glove. But we say it when we see a co-worker get schnockered at the office Christmas party. He doesn't get on all fours and bray like a jackass all the time but, 'tis the season. The expression excuses all manner of bad behavior. Some highly-strung doomsday prepper is bound to get drunk at the family dinner and send a child running from the room screaming, "Mommy, Mommy, Uncle Jim-Bob is hitting Uncle Ned in the head with a lead pipe," and she will answer, "Well, 'tis the season."

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. When we began to witness the law of diminishing returns regarding Christmas cards and ceased the practice, I sent around a CD compilation of what I believe are the greatest soulful Christmas songs. Now that the CD is extinct, I figure if I gave you a list, you kids today with your downloading and your e-phones, could probably find them on the MeTube and put together some mellow tunes to hear on your iRod. Then turn it up so everyone can enjoy a violence-free Christmas, lost in a winter wonderland of the mind. Forget your Frank Sinatra, your Perry Como and your Johnny Mathis. This is a different thing. So, here 'tis:

1. The Christmas Song, by Nat "King" Cole. The most elegant Christmas song and singer OF ALL TIME. Written by Mel Torme, who used to remind his audience of that fact every chance he got. But then, who wouldn't? The standard by which all other Christmas songs are measured. I could listen to this one all year.

2. This Christmas, by Donnie Hathaway. My personal favorite, even though listening to Donnie Hathaway sometimes makes me cry. Love the musical hook with the horns and the jingle bells. Can't do better than this one.

3. White Christmas, by the Drifters. Never mind "Der Bingle." The Drifters' doo-wop version with Clyde McPhatter is delightful and unforgettable. I've heard rumors that every time this song is played, Irving Berlin rolls over in his grave.

4. Merry Christmas, Baby, by Charles Brown, who sings, "I haven't had a drink this morning, but I'm all lit up like a Christmas tree." The most laid-back of all Xmas songs. There are also good versions by Elvis and Otis Redding, but Charles Brown is the real deal.

5. I'll Be Home For Christmas, by Al Green. There are many great interpretations of this song, but the Reverend Al takes it to church, where he usually is anyway.

6. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, by Lou Rawls. Big band, swing style. When Lou sings in that baritone voice, you've got to groove, whatever your method may be. A real finger-popper. After listening, you'll say, "Yeahh, that's what I'm talkin' about."

7. Let it Snow, by Aaron Neville. An old tune refreshingly sung in the Neville brother's unique, jaunty, (I used the word "jaunty,") style. Extremely danceable. Stop looking for other versions. You'll thank me.

8. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, by Take 6. The worlds greatest acapella group adds a few musicians, specifically the Yellowjackets. Both vocal and musical arrangements on this track are amazing. You've never heard this song done this way before, but it will sure stay with you..

9. Gee Whiz, It's Christmas, by Carla Thomas. Upbeat and filled with joyous teenage innocence, and it's our Queen, for gosh sakes. This is my wife's favorite song, and Melody asked me to say, "We love you Carla." We really do.

10. Santa, Go Straight to the Ghetto, by James Brown. If anybody's going to tell the truth, it's the Godfather, who sings, "You know that I know what you will see/ 'Cause that was once me." And, "Never thought I'd realize/ I'd be singing a song with water in my eyes." Did I mention that it was also funky? Mr. Dynamite died on Christmas day, 2006, so every year we dust off the Walgreen's dancing and singing James Brown figure, give him fresh batteries, and place him in a place of prominence in what passes for Christmas decorations at our house, so he can do the Camel Walk.

You could add to this group the entire scandalous 1957 Elvis' Christmas Album, and, A Christmas Gift to You from Phil Spector, which is a terrific record, but knowing the guy's doing life for murder makes it all a little creepy to listen to now. It's like receiving a flowery wedding announcement from Charles Manson. There are so many more great songs, but I wanted to get this out to you early so you can begin preparing your playlist for the family festivities. I'm sure you can steal them anywhere. 'Tis the season.

Aliens

Our borders are so porous that they have become nearly impossible to police. Thousands of aliens sneak into this country every day and head for border towns where they can blend in with people of similar color who speak a similar language, making it undetectable who is and who is not a documented citizen. The border is so long that no fence short of the Wall of China could even begin to stop the migrating hordes that seek sanctuary in the USA at any cost. They have infiltrated every major city and many illegals have had children here so that they can automatically become American citizens. These are the "anchor babies" you've heard so much about. There are so many aliens already here that you could never round up and deport them all. And the good jobs that they take away from able-bodied Americans is scandalous. They have begun to dominate entire businesses and have affected  popular culture so that our children are exposed. The lure of cheap drugs has caused Americans in border towns to flock to pharmacies just miles away, only to smuggle them back into this country. They talk different. Their food is different. Their national sports are different. Let's face it, these people are different than we are. I strongly believe, and many other like-minded patriots agree, that it's about damn time that we crack down on this endless stampede of Canadians invading our land.

They come across in border towns like Detroit, Buffalo, and Rochester, but those who really want to enter undetected use the wide swaths of land that are too remote to patrol. They enter in places like Duluth, Minnesota and Grand Forks, North Dakota, and I understand that the further west you go, the more hard-core the trafficking is in illegal drugs, particularly marijuana. Demand has fallen totally off in Washington State, but I've heard of Canucks with calves the size of saskatoons from smuggling backpacks full of dangerously potent cannabis from Vancouver across the border. The Canadians call it "B.C. Bud," or at least that's what I was told. And not only are their legal drugs cheaper, I get at least fifteen emails per week enticing me to buy them. You can even order them through the mail, flaunting the law, and what is this Vicodin they keep wanting me to take? Canadians don't care about our laws. They were all bootleggers during prohibition and some of the most prominent families made their fortunes supplying illegal hooch to Al Capone. Every time our country enters into one of our periodic righteous wars with somebody we don't like, it's always Canada that openly welcomes our cowardly draft-dodgers into their midst, especially during that pesky Vietnam business.

Over the past forty years, there has been a stealth campaign among Canadians to infiltrate and take over the entertainment industry, beginning with the immigrant Lorne Michaels from Toronto. In the mid-seventies, he invented a subversive television program called Saturday Night Live, and ever since, he's relied on Canadians to spread his irreverent message- people like Dan Aykroyd, Martin Short, Norm McDonnell, and Mike Meyers. This opened the floodgates for Canadian comedy with imported shows like SCTV, featuring perverted comics like John Candy, Rick Moranis, Catherine O'Hara, and Eugene Levy. Following their Migrant Trail came Jim Carrey, Howie Mandel, and Tommy Chong who began to take over the movies. If our government had been vigilant enough to keep these freeloaders out, we would never have had to suffer through "Honey, I Shrunk the Kids," "Wayne's World," or "Ace Ventura: Pet Detective." Canadians spend half their lives listening to Gordon Lightfoot, and the other half watching hockey. They drink beers called Moosehead and Labatt and live on a diet of bacon and maple syrup, which they pour over everything. They refuse to speak American. Instead of "out and about," they say, "Oot and aboot." They swear allegiance to the British crown, and even have a state that wants to secede where they force everyone to speak French.

And now they want this XL Keystone pipeline to transport Canadian oil across our great country into the Gulf of Mexico so they can sell it to the Russians and Chinese. Of course, there's absolutely no danger of an oil spill in the Gulf- right? It's past time to round up all your Avril Lavignes, your Ryan Goslings, and your Anna Paquins and begin arranging their transport home. It's shocking how deeply they have burrowed into our society. William Shatner is a Canadian. I mean, Captain Kirk is an alien, for God's sake. Peter Jennings, the man who brought me my evening news all those years, was a Canuck. Even the hip-hop artist Drake comes from the mean streets of Toronto. We refer to Mexicans as "illegal aliens," but Canadians are always, "our friends up north." I think it's time to get these toque wearing, cheese-eating, Celine Dion listening, ice skaters back into their own wretched country. Especially this Seth Rogan fellow, whose "nerd gets the girl" movies have caused young men to resort to gun violence. It's time this invasion came to an end and relocations are in order. I only have one request. When the government starts deporting Canadians, please deport Justin Bieber first, eh?

No You Can't

Well, I guess they showed us. All us naive sheep and moochers with all those pipe dreams about hope and change failed to anticipate the coming tsunami. I haven't seen a red wave that gigantic since the last time the Crimson Tide went undefeated. Last week's mid-term elections were fueled by resentment and anger directed toward the president, so it seems that new Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell's simple but seditious strategy worked- say no to every initiative, block every bill, refuse any compromise, and filibuster the Obama presidency into paralysis. Then, when the Congress is in a total logjam where nothing can  move, blame the president for being a divisive leader. The endgame was to destroy Obama, by any means necessary. With the aid of Fox News and right-wing vitriolic radio, the GOP stoked rage and hatred against our foreign born, Socialist president and whipped elderly white men into such a frothing frenzy, they had no choice but to come out in angry numbers in order to put our first black president in his place. That's who voted, you know- angry, old people. I hate stats too, but them's the facts.

The funny thing is, leading up to the election, every time I saw Obama address a large gathering, the crowd always went wild with excitement. That excitement was the very thing the president's party lacked. So rather than rail against a poorly informed populace, a flood of untraceable "dark" money, or the lowest voter turnout in any election since Pearl Harbor, I would instead like to address the milquetoast, paranoid, spineless, unprincipled, gutless cowards who inhabit the Democratic Party ranks these days. They took a poll, then ran from Obama like he had Ebola. As a result, the enthusiastic young people that attended the president's rallies did not vote. Why should they? No Democratic candidate celebrated the president's successes except Rep. Steve Cohen, and he could have remained silent if he so chose. There is no clearer example of this Obama denial than in the race of  Kentucky senatorial candidate Alison Lundergan Grimes. She might have mentioned that those 413,000 Kentuckians that are now enjoying the bluegrass state's new "kynect" health insurance program are actually receiving the benefits of Obamacare under a different name. When asked if she voted for the president, the answer should have been simple- "Of course I did. I'm a Democrat and Barack Obama is my party's standard bearer." Instead, the gun toting, coal loving, blue-dog acted like she never heard the name Obama and insisted that she was strictly a "Clinton Democrat." When pressed on the issue, she proclaimed that her vote was a private matter and refused to answer the question. Next time they revise Wikipedia, right next to the word "mealymouth," there should be a picture of Alison Lundergan Grimes.

When was the last time you heard someone say they were a "proud liberal," or that they "stood by progressive values?" Maybe Lyndon Johnson? Or George McGovern? Democrats have allowed the term "liberal" to be defined by the opposition and ever since Bubba Clinton's election, they're all "new Democrats," meaning conservative-lite. Personally, I preferred the old Democrats- the ones like FDR, who fought hard for progress against Republican intransigence. Now, they all just want to keep their jobs and not ruffle any constituent feathers, and they will abandon the man who brought their party back to prominence as soon as his approval rating drops below fifty percent.  It's not like they didn't have anything to talk about- three million new jobs in the last six years, Obamacare succeeding everywhere it's been implemented, the stock market setting new records every month. Instead, they ran as the party of please. "Please don't blame us for our candy-ass leadership. Please don't hurt us for not exercising power when we had it. Please don't think that we're with the black guy. We'll just be over here- under our desks- if that's OK with you." The Democrats were richly deserving of an ass-whooping and they will soon shed their cloak of power with a whimper.

And on behalf of the real men in Tennessee who consider themselves feminists, I'd like to apologize to all the women whose reproductive rights will now be determined by a congressman from Crossville named Cooter. I spent six years in East Tennessee- four as a student and two as a rock star- and I witnessed the general area's antipathy toward knowledge. That's where the bulk of votes in favor of abortion restrictions came from. It's a battle of country against city. That's why country music is so popular up there- it's a celebration of poverty and ignorance. Abortion on the ballot is like Mountain Dew to a meth head, and you can bet that every gap-toothed, overall wearing, fundamentalist, country-ass rube marched to the polls with religious fervor. So what if the amendment is unconstitutional. Republicans rule the roost. So expect more of the same. As a nation, we voted for more tax breaks for corporations and the obscenely wealthy, cuts in welfare assistance and food stamps, fuel-injected attempts to overturn Obamacare, protectionism for the democracy-killing "Citizens United" decision, and further denial of climate change. I guess Abe Lincoln was wrong- you can fool all of the people all of the time. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.