Speechless in Secaucus

The Prince And The (emotional) Pauper

As much as I would like to, I can’t seem to find anything to write about that doesn’t touch on politics.  In the good old days, I would be writing about all sorts of things that I may have read that I found curious. Maybe no one is writing about other stuff anymore and the blog has just become a reflection of the times.  As someone very famous has said . . . or rather, tweeted—sad!

What has captured my attention lately is the Princeling in the White House (PIWH), New Jersey native, Jared Kushner. I don’t like him. Which you might say is unfair, since there’s nothing to judge him on; no one has ever heard him speak.  I mean no one.  But I feel perfectly fine about having a bad opinion of him based on nothing.  Well . . . maybe not exactly nothing.

After all, he does have a lot to answer for.  Apart from meeting with the Russians and lying about it, there’s that business of encouraging the Dick in the White House (DIWH) to fire Jim Comey.  And being part of the Administration; and squiring that profiteer Ivanka everywhere; and being a slum lord; and . . . and . . . and maybe the worst thing, that SHIT-EATING GRIN.

His silence had reminded me of another notable figure who remained mute for his entire time on the public stage—Sarah Palin’s husband, Todd. I’ve been writing this blog for so long that Mr. Palin has found his way into it more than once. (Newt’s Mutes and an all-time favorite, Thrilla from Wasila). But Todd was relatively benign and more on the periphery of venality.  Jared is a whole other kettle of (non-shell) fish. (Bear in mind, he’s an orthodox Jew).

However, he does have a few saving graces; after all, he’s going to be the one to negotiate peace in the Middle East.  In fact, the DIWH has said that if “anyone can do it, it’s Jared”.  That’s all well and good but that’s like my father (who thought I was a better athlete than I am) saying that I could win Wimbledon.  I can just hear Sam saying, “if anyone can do it, Neil can.”  I wouldn’t bet all my shekels on either one.

But maybe the PIWH’s greatest single attribute is that he doesn’t have one of those beards that it seems everyone and his brother (not mine, though) are sporting.  I don’t know if they’re called Van Dykes or Van Goghs or Van Wycke Expressways but jeez, they’re everywhere. I just don’t get it.  My guess is that in twenty years the owners of these things will look back on them as I do when I see photos of myself wearing bell bottom pants and wonder, “What the hell was I thinking!?”

From everything I’ve read and from conversations I’ve had about the PIWH’s muteness, several schools of thought have emerged: some people think that his reluctance to speak is because, like those silent movie stars who couldn’t make the transition to “talkies”, he has some weird high-pitched voice. I don’t buy that. I think it’s much more likely that, when we do hear him speak, we’ll discern just the slightest trace of a Russian accent. Wouldn’t that be something, Nyet?






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4 Responses to “Speechless in Secaucus”

  1. apt3f Says:

    ideas for future (non-political) blogs: rain; more rain; why do people drive too fast and walk too slow?; give me some time and I’ll come up with more…

    • iron(ic)man triathlon Says:

      I’m sorry Claudia….as boring as I am, I draw the line at talking or writing about the weather.

  2. Richard Says:

    I want to see the downfall of the PIWH only fractionally less than the downfall of the DIWH.

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