Raebert gets bored. I never do. Well, if I do, I just kill something until patience returns.

It only took an hour or two before she was back and ensconced on my lap, purring like mad.

If I were a vain man, I’d think she really really loves me. But I think the truth is more along these lines.

And couture-wise, Gaga’s got nothing on Iris.

Put your paws up.

I’m having coffee on the couch and perusing the day’s bad news on my iPad with Iris sleeping peacefully right next to me.

Everything was peaceful and still.

But then there is a hulking looming shape.

Hi, kid. Did I wake you?

Pardon the brightness variations and occasional blur in these pics. This is live action, don’t you know. In fact, I missed the opening gambit in which Raebert laid his gigantic head across Iris’s body, guaranteeing that she would wake up. Then he just stood there, staring intently at her and glancing from time to time at me.

Having a nice snooze beside Daddy, are you?

No raised voices, mind you, not even the hint of a growl. But somehow the silence was gone and I could swear I heard this faintly in the background:

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=68I3j2luW64

Raebert just stood there and I thought, he will not stop, ever.

Iris is stubborn, and Rae’s nudge was gentle.

Then he fixed his eyes on hers.

Time for you to go, sweetcakes.

So she went.

And somewhere down the hall, in a quiet cat voice, I heard the promise, “I’ll be back.”

And another voice…

Unless I get there first.

Actually, this is what we do every morning these days.

FADE TO BLACK. CREDITS ROLL.

THAT TRUMP IS OUT OF CONTROL!

Had the nerve to say he really enjoys hooters. Cad.

Also said bunnies are sexy. Pervert.

Ew. He just up and kissed the pageant queen. On the cheek! Disgusting.

Does that give the MSM Wolves some prey to go in ravening pursuit of? Sure it does.

ON THE OTHER HAND…

Rahm & Nancy. Did they carve their initials on a DC cherry tree?

That’s just old Uncle Joe explaining to a fan what a lecherous creep Trump is. Move along, move along.

The Big O has an ironclad rule: Look but NEVER touch.

ALMOST never.

Well, let’s just say infrequently. Okay?

AND THEN, OF COURSE, THEM GUYS.

Good to see he hasn’t lost HIS touch. Wink wink.

The rumors about Hill’s real orientation are simply not true. She was having one of her bobbing head attacks.

Where’s Huma?! I feel a midnight conference coming on.

Being up working hard till 3 am can make anyone get a little squiggle eyed in the morning, okay?

There you have it. Trump a predatory bum. Democrats just fine friendly normal people. Now go write your stories.

Spin doctors say the wound is very very serious.

It happened on the campaign trail. A young Trump fan smuggled a cat into a Pennsylvania rally and held it out to the candidate as he passed. “Sweet pussy,” he remarked, whereupon the cat scratched him viciously.

According to reports by NBC, CBS, ABC, CNN, FNC, MSNBC, and TMZ, Trump was immediately rushed by ambulance to a nearby hospital for emergency surgery.

Anonymous sources within the RNC have disclosed the surgery did not go well, and Trump is now clinging to life by a thread.

“The wound was just too massive to repair,” chortled CNN anchor Anderson Cooper.

NBC’s Chuck Todd confirmed the report in exactly the same words, adding with a chuckle, “What many would call poetic justice.”

Stay tuned for updates as this story develops.

In related news, a team of DNC physicians has announced with great relief that Hillary Clinton is “AOK” after a momentarily disturbing event at a campaign appearance before twelve supporters at the Astrodome in Houston.

Nothing to see here. It was just a mote in the corner of her eyes, probably a fly or something.

Mrs. Clinton is expected to be fine after a 48 hour nap at her home in Chappaqua.

It’s another huge basket filled with ALL the NeverTrumpers and Hillary voters. They are actively promoting a corrupt and malign dictatorship that will make slaves of us all so that the ruling elites can continue to prosper.

Not too happy with the faddish new term “Indigenous Peoples Day.” I mean if we want to celebrate the noble primitives Columbus interfered with by arriving in the New World, I’m pretty sure can do better than memorialize the killer human tribes who waged constant war on each other, scalped and sacrificed thousands, and all died toothless under the age of 30. What a load of crap that is. Their so called cultures exist today only in museums, drunk tanks, and federally funded casinos.

So my suggestion is “Bonobos Day.” Why? It at least rhymes with Columbus Day (sort of) and reflects the true ideals of the people who think the most noble state of being is living peacefully, sans technology of any kind, with no apparent purpose but to have as much sex as they can, whenever they can, wherever they can. The bonobos are the perfect exemplar of this ideal. They have sex and eat. That’s it.

Having sex, if you still remember anything about that.

Eating stuff like the superior people want all of us to eat. Organic smoothies.

See? It’s great!

An older gray-haired bonobo with his good friend who moderated last night’s debate.

Now let us close with the great Rolling Stones hymn to the perfect primate being.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HNY8eYmzdH4

Just be careful what you wish for, you myopic prigs. If you dump Trump, there will be a huge write-in vote for Trump and you will lose catastrophically in downticket congressional races. You are trading the country away for a moment of self serving triumph over a threat to what you deludedly regard as your political sinecure. But you will be swept away in the tidal wave of political anger you have deliberately provoked. What a bunch of hapless, selfish idiots. You’ll deserve what you get. But we won’t.

Me? I thought it was a Karen Carpenter song.

Sammy has been with us for exactly six months. He’s 12 going on 13. He bounded up the stairs first chance he had. Then he fell and hasn’t been back up since. Till last night. His anniversary night. Bounding up the stairs. And Raebert is finally at peace again.

The tiny grey in back weighs 65 pounds. You do the math.

Mark Cuban would like to convince the world he’s not a throwback Neanderthal. Or at least better than the Old Golden Boy. If he’s not the Golden Fleece. Unless you’re a Morlock.

He whines that Trump wrote off $996,000,000 on his taxes while he, Mark the Caveman, wrote off $11,000,000 and can’t count to 996,000,000.

This has to be the source of the friction because Cuban, or Caveman, clearly doesn’t have a record of being any nicer or more ethical than the Trump he wishes he could look down on.

From Wiki, which clearly has no more interest in disclosing Caveman’s cockups than Google and Yahoo do in their stain free links of their Hillary reportage.

SEC INSIDE TRADER ALLEGATIONS

On November 17, 2008, it was reported that the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) filed a civil suit against Mark Cuban relating to alleged insider trading in the shares of Mamma.com, now known as Copernic.[63] A stock dilution occurred shortly after a trade in June 2004, giving hints of inside knowledge at the time of the trade, and Cuban allegedly was saved from a loss of $750,000.[64] The SEC claimed that Cuban ordered the sale of his holdings in Mamma.com after he had been confidentially approached by the company to participate in a transaction likely to dilute shares of current shareholders. Cuban disputed the charges, saying he had not agreed to keep the information secret.[65] On his blog, Cuban contended the facts were false and that the investigation was “a product of gross abuse of prosecutorial discretion”.[66] DealBook, a section of The New York Times, reported through an anonymous source that Cuban believed the investigation was motivated by an SEC employee having taken offense to his interest in possibly distributing the film Loose Change.[67]

In July 2009, the U.S. District Court dismissed the charges against Cuban, and the SEC appealed. In September 2010, an appeals court said that the district court had erred and that further proceedings would be necessary to address the merits of the suit.[68]

A federal jury in Texas found in favor of Cuban on October 16, 2013.[69] The nine-member jury issued the verdict after deliberating 3 hours and 35 minutes.

In March 2014, Cuban was on air at CNBC criticizing high-frequency trading (HFT).[70] Those against HFT, such as Cuban, believe the technology is equivalent to automated insider trading.[71]

*****************

For example, try as you might, with whatever search term you choose, neither Google nor Yahoo will link this little gem which is buried at Wikipedia.

NBA Policy Controversies

Cuban’s ownership has been the source of extensive media attention and controversy involving league policies.[81]

Cuban has been fined by the NBA, mostly for critical statements about the league and referees, at least $1.665 million for 13 incidents.[82] In a June 30, 2006 interview, Mavericks player Dirk Nowitzki said about Cuban:[83]

‘He’s got to learn how to control himself as well as the players do. We can’t lose our temper all the time on the court or off the court, and I think he’s got to learn that, too. He’s got to improve in that area and not yell at the officials the whole game. I don’t think that helps us … He sits right there by our bench. I think it’s a bit much. But we all told him this before. It’s nothing new. The game starts, and he’s already yelling at them. So he needs to know how to control himself a little.”

In an interview with the Associated Press, Cuban said that he matches NBA fines with charitable donations of equal amounts.[84] In a nationally publicized incident in 2002, he criticized the league’s manager of officials, Ed T. Rush, saying that he “wouldn’t be able to manage a Dairy Queen.” Dairy Queen management took offense to Cuban’s comments and invited him to manage a Dairy Queen restaurant for a day. Cuban accepted the company’s invitation and worked for a day at a Dairy Queen in Coppell, Texas, where fans lined up in the street to get a Blizzard from the owner of the Mavericks.[85]

During the 2005–06 NBA season, Cuban started a booing campaign when former Mavericks player Michael Finley returned to play against the Mavericks as a member of the San Antonio Spurs.[86] In a playoff series between the Mavericks and Spurs, Cuban cursed Spurs forward Bruce Bowen[87] and was fined $25,000 by the NBA for rushing onto the court and criticizing NBA officials.[88] After the 2006 NBA Finals, Cuban was fined $250,000 by the NBA for repeated misconduct following the Mavericks’ loss to the Miami Heat in Game Five of the 2006 NBA Finals.

In February 2007, Cuban publicly criticized NBA Finals MVP Dwyane Wade and declared that he would get fined if he made any comments about what he thought really happened in the 2006 NBA Finals.[89][90]

On January 16, 2009, the league fined Cuban $25,000 for yelling at Denver Nuggets player J. R. Smith at the end of the first half on a Mavericks-at-Nuggets game played on January 13.[91][92] Cuban was apparently incensed that Smith had thrown an elbow that barely missed Mavericks forward Antoine Wright.[93] Cuban offered to match the fine with a donation to a charity of Smith’s choosing. Cuban stated that if he doesn’t hear from Smith that he will donate the money to the NHL Players’ Association Goals and Dreams Fund in the names of Todd Bertuzzi and Steve Moore.[94] In May 2009, Cuban made a reference to the Denver Nuggets being “thugs” after a loss to the Nuggets in game 3 of the Western Conference Semifinals. The statement was geared towards the Nuggets and their fans. As he passed Kenyon Martin’s mother, who was seated near Cuban as he left the arena, he pointed at her and said, “that includes your son”. This controversial comment revisited media attention on Cuban yet again. Cuban issued an apology the next day referencing the poor treatment of away fans in arenas around the league. The league issued a statement stating that they would not fine him.[95]

On May 22, 2010, Cuban was fined $100,000 for comments he made during a television interview about trying to sign LeBron James.[96]

Despite his history, he was notably silent during the Mavericks’ 2011 championship playoff run.[97]

Despite Cuban’s history with David Stern, he believed the NBA Commissioner would leave a lasting legacy “of a focus on growth and recognizing that the NBA is in the entertainment business and that it’s a global product, not just a local product. Whatever platforms that took us to, he was ready to go. He wasn’t protective at all. He was wide open. I think that was great.”[98]

On January 18, 2014, Cuban was once again fined $100,000 for confronting referees and using inappropriate language toward them. As with previous fines, Cuban confirmed that he will match the fine with a donation to charity, however, with a condition that he reaches two million followers on his Twitter account. Cuban also jokingly commented that he could not let Stern leave without a proper farewell.[99]

On October 28, 2015, Cuban said the Los Angeles Clippers were still not a “respectable franchise” in regards to the botched deal between DeAndre Jordan and the Mavericks.[100]

*****************

Cuban is afraid he’s not elite but the man he is, who looks and acts like a prognathous thug.

More man than Cuban.

What he is is worse indeed. A half-wit Hapsburg, who bullies serfs and pretends to royalty.

A precious rich boy who got lucky with no credentials. Hapsburgs spring to mind: all jaw (literally and figuratively) and no brain.

Cuban. One more Hillary eunuch in a world where Trump is the Man. Crawl back to Dallas, poor boy.

The Impregnable O-Line is taking it easy, knocking back a few cold ones.

Oops. Wrong pic. Not taking it easy.

Anything but.

I don’t care any more. But my wife does. e-a-g-l-e-s. eagles.

What can I tell you? He’s this big.

So I got up in the middle of the night to watch the Malaysian Grand Prix. My wife has a huge crush on Lewis Hamilton, but it wasn’t his day, or should I say his middle of the night. Twenty second lead from pole position, then his car blew up. Flames aplenty but no injury. She won’t be happy about this. Oh well.

Did I mention Raebert? He came out of the bedroom, plod, plod, to keep me company. Why I use the term Big Sweetie. He doesn’t know why he’s supposed to be with me. He just knows he’s supposed to.

How can you be 110 pounds and CUTE?

I took more pictures. Here they are.

Feet. Huge.

It’s really quiet at this time of day.

The REAL African American flag. After they’re done with us white folks.

I want Chinese food. Where I am. My country’s gone. The Eagles annihilated the Steelers yesterday. I don’t care.

Doesn’t matter who gets elected, really. It’s all been gone for a long time.

Why ‘Below the Turnpike’ matters. A brief glimpse of the past, from millionaires to below decks babysitters all living together.

Billie Holliday. Philly born and bred. Jazz Lives Matter. Stay tuned.

Except everything else matters too. Holliday was only a hooker on the side. She didn’t boast about it.

The African American esthetic. Aren’t we proud of ourself?

I used to write as if people could read. They can’t. Bet you can’t get past the first paragraph of my first blog blog.

GlovesOff.blogspot.com

Shrinking attention spans. Mine has shrunk too. But I still know and remember way way way more than you.

Know what? I’d win. Even if we were doing it with 1911 .45s.

Should I stay or should I go?

Yeah, I’ll say what no one else will. Do me in, Facebook. We’ve become a nation of niggas. Put that in your Tennessee corncob and smoke it, Glenn Reynolds. I’ll see you on the other side of Twitter and Pajama land.

Oh. You wanted to see a real gunfight? It can be arranged.

Yeah. The way personal confrontations actually work. I could explain. Why my wife gave a huge horselaugh when I said I’d never tried to be an Alpha male.

“Who are you kidding?” She horselaughed.

But I am what I am and I love Billie Holliday, whoever you think I am.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=MXRiKEybN0s

Sorry. We all do dumb things. My significant other picked a fight with me the day my dad died. Lake cut me off when my mother died and I blew a spoke. Monica thought I was gone just BECAUSE. I said things an angry father shouldn’t.

Now my wife is mad because I’m talking to Monica again.

Monica is the only family that’s my own.

My wife’s family hates me. I’m that guy who writes books and thinks Christianity doesn’t require a Jumbotron. Right now they need God. And don’t know where to look.

He’s got credentials. I don’t.

Here’s what I do have. His ear. He knows I’m a writer. He’ll tell you. Just ask. Patrick Prentice.

In the meantime, buy his book at Amazon. Easterland.

Yeah.

Life goes on and on getting harder and harder.

My wife recommended this one to me. She found it an antidote to the horrifying millennial New Zealand police drama Siege we told you about last week. She was right. It was the best and most exciting and realistic shoot’em up since Kick Ass.

As proof of our excellent movie taste we offer the following user review from IMDB.com.

‘Cause we be really bad people who never learned about Truffaut, Lang, Bergman, and Eisenstein. But they never had a body count in the hundreds by Gerard Butler.

My wife likes him because he’s Scottish like me. She says.

They shot a million bullets at him. They missed. He didn’t.

You may have noticed I didn’t blog the debate, and I’m not blogging the polls. It’s all nonsense from here on in. Just a gigantic barroom brawl. Why I’ve been mostly laughing and watching dark documentaries on Netflix.

Spend the next few weeks ignoring the news and having fun.

…and Errol Flynn as you and me.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=dFEoAS0wYVM

Technology is everything. Look at Clint’s fancy newfangled six-shooter. Now I got me one of them. Makes me one of them real professional pundits. Hot damn.

Current parent company: Apple.

We found this series on Netflix called True Crime. True stories dramatized, not documentaries. Very well done, thoughtfully written, we’re a fan/

But we saw this one called Siege the other night and we were both appalled.

It’s about a 50 hour standoff between New Zealand police and a maniac with a dozen guns.

Thing is, they’re proud of how they handled it. But my wife and I are Americans and we were tearing our hair out from Minute 15 on.

The episode begins with a sententious onscreen statement that “New Zealand is not a gun culture, and we will never be a gun culture.”

An awkward introduction to two hours of the sorriest police work you’ve ever seen or heard tell of.

This miserable 50 hour standoff would never have happened here. It would have been a simple takedown of a choleric pot grower, wrap him up, cuff him, put him in the cruiser, and next task please.

But we’re in New Zealand. We send three unarmed officers with a warrant to look for marijuana in a private house in a suburban neighborhood. They are admitted to the residence by the woman of the house, who generously shows them the abundant growing room off the main hallway. There’s a knock at the door. A seedy customer who is ushered in and told to sit down. Then another face at the door, the husband returning home. He is aggressive from the outset and no attempt is made to subdue his obvious ire. At this point everyone is in the smallish living room, three police officers, the wife, the customer, and the angry husband. Where, in NYC, the story would have ended. Two officers to shove the husband against the wall and place him safely under arrest.

But we’re in New Zealand, you see. The husband strides right past his wife, the customer, and the three police officers and goes sprinting down the hall, only to return in a moment with a high powered rifle. Which he uses to order the police officers out of his house. They stand there trying to reason with him until he actually cocks the rifle prefatory to shooting them. At which point the unarmed officers leave the house.

We could still have been good, right? Scuttle out of the house, get into the cop cars, and go blistering away, calling for backup. Right?

But we’re in New Zealand, under the command of what the final moments of the episode would deem as the sharpest point of the spear of New Zealand policery.

So what do you do when you’ve just been run out of the house by a man with a gun and an overflowing rage against cops. Well. If you’re in New Zealand, you three unarmed police officers stand around in the front yard debating what to do next.

Which is when the shooting starts. All three are hit in a matter of seconds. And the Siege has officially begun.

*************************************

In New Zealand, the bravest people are middle aged men and women, who defy gunfire to help the injured and trapped. The police, on the other hand, are very good at cowering and obeying the order not to shoot under any circumstances. Two thirds of the way through we are informed by chyron that 62 shots have been fired. Those of us who were counting already knew that none of those shots was fired by a police officer. They were busy doing their procedural thing. Yapping into walkie talkies, reassuring the Command Center that they were not planning to shoot anyone today, and explaining why it was so impossible to rescue the dead body of the best police officer in New Zealand. For 50 hours.

One officer did shoot, twice, when a gun barrel poked through an open doorway aimed at other officers. He put two rounds through the door and was immediately withdrawn from the field to report to the New Zealand version of Internal Affairs. Then he was told he couldn’t return to the field because if he fired on the offender again he could be charged with manslaughter.

Heard enough? They tried mighty hard to talk the perp out of committing suicide, but he was clearly bored at not being in an American cop movie and offed himself.

There was a huge funeral, bagpipes, and tears. End of episode. One dead hero cop, one dead offender, who might have gotten seven years in prison if he’d lived. Why bother?