Cagle World

Raging Moderate

The Brett Kavanaugh Supreme Court confirmation process has stumbled forward like a 10-year-old pushing a marble pedestal twice his size up a four-story stairwell. You could say that Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s allegations concerning Kavanaugh have sort of gummed up the proceedings. You could also say that blue meat best not be eaten raw.

The doctor claims that 36 years ago when she was a drunken 15-year-old at a high school party, the 17-year-old future judge threw her on a bed and covered her mouth to prevent her screaming. He denies everything: being there and/or knowing the girl. He even tried floating an evil twin theory. The only argument he hasn’t trotted out is the Donald Trump defense, which characterizes the charges as being baseless because she wasn’t pretty enough.

The president who nominated him doubts the accusation as well. Then again, he doesn’t believe many women. Not any of the dozen women who accused him of sexual harassment. Not the women who claimed Judge Roy Moore attacked them. Not the other two women who have forward to accuse Kavanaugh. As far as the president is concerned, it’s not a “he-said, she-said,” thing but more of a “he-said, she-lies” deal.

A major hitch in the Kavanaugh proceedings is the visual aspect of the Republican majority on the Senate Judiciary Committee. All 11 members are white males. Not just white, but bordering on translucent. Their possible answer to these unfortunate optics is to hire a substitute, probably a female, to ask questions if and when the good doctor testifies. Going straight to the Stunt Surrogate Senator Solution.

Overall, the conservative response has been fluid, morphing from “she’s mixed up, it didn’t happen,” to “it might have happened, but it wasn’t that bad,” to “okay, maybe it happened and was bad but its way too late to do anything about it.” The next position will inevitably be “don’t worry, he’ll be fine ruling on cases from his prison cell.”

Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell cautioned supporters not to worry about testimony or an investigation because “We will plow right through it” to confirm Kavanaugh as a Supreme. Giving the impression she’s a human speed bump the GOP machine is willing to run right over to reach their conservative agenda. With studded snow tires.

Committee chairman Chuck Grassley seems to be in a bit of a rush to confirm Kavanaugh to his lifetime appointment to the highest court of the land. He needs to get this over by the first Monday of October when the new court convenes, and has arbitrarily imposed made-up deadlines to further harass the person who claims to have been harassed. Because, well, obviously, she’s used to it.

Kavanaugh’s polling has sunk so low, you’d need the newest high-tech spelunking gear to detect it… and then only through sonar. Six weeks before the midterm election and the GOP has taken dead aim at women. Smooth move.

Someone needs to remind this collection of clueless white guys that the 19th Amendment gave women the vote a couple of years ago. 98 to be exact. Perhaps the 2020 Centennial Party will kick-off early, maybe this November 6th by plowing right through a few Republican males.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

Be very careful, because it’s getting crazy out there. You don’t want to end up collateral damage accidentally straying into the path of the newest dance craze sweeping the Republican Party. Closely related to the St. Vitus Dance, it is characterized by rapid, uncoordinated jerky movements and commonly referred to as the Donald Trump Two-Step.

It’s pretty simple really: swing your arms back and forth, take one step forward, turn right, turn righter, take one step back. And repeat. It’s kind of like the Twist meets the Mexican Hat Dance meets the Hokey Pokey, with a heavy emphasis on the Pokey. The goal is a lot of movement without any discernible directional advancement.

There’s an election coming up, and the threat of a Blue Wave is spooking conservatives like cobwebs in a closet with the lights out after midnight. So this spasmodic twitching is the direct result of pressure being applied from behind as well as the front, the left, the right, the in and the out. Candidates are suffering from the dreaded Trump Sandwich Effect.

The dilemma is whether to be caught in a clinch, slow-dancing with the president or to waltz away so far, the chief executive can’t even be seen due to the curvature of the earth – the norm in almost every swing district. There’s a third option, the stutter-step of trying to have it both ways leading to the tortured choreography that a passing priest might describe as demonic possession.

This is a problem similar to what Democratic office-seekers experience with Nancy Pelosi. The difference being, she rumbas a little more under the radar. Unfortunately the president thinks he’s John Travolta and can’t help discoing into every single spotlight event whether he’s asked to or not, including hurricanes.

Florida GOP senatorial candidate Rick Scott, fox trotting in a dead heat with incumbent Democrat Sen. Bill Nelson, was forced by his state’s demographics to disown the president’s statement that his enemies inflated Hurricane Maria’s death toll in Puerto Rico to make him look bad. Paul Ryan said there is no reason to dispute the numbers. And he’s not even running for office. You don’t need a weatherman to tell which way this wind is blowing.

Each and every GOP candidate has to make the decision whether to risk insulting Trump’s base or the intelligence of normal ordinary human beings. Hence the development of this dance of dishonor. Samba of shame. Hypocritical hula.

Whenever Mister Trump shoots out a crude tweet, says something demonstrably false or acts with an oafishness normally attributed to drunken grizzly bears, his loyal backers gravely announce being mildly offended and issue a statement that sort of, but not really, criticizes his behavior. Then claim to be totally satisfied with his intention to make amends, even if he hasn’t said anything to that effect.

It’s the Donald Trump Two-Step, where you bounce up and down and move in and out, bopping and weaving so you never assume a single position long enough for anyone to get a bead on you.

The good news is this slam-dance marathon only lasts another seven weeks. The bad news is many will drop either from exhaustion, confusion or by tripping over their own feet. Or to be more precise, the Oval Office rug cutter’s size 12s.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

Let us take a few minutes to talk about the most underrated holiday of them all: Labor Day.

Poor baby. It gets less respect than a MAGA hat at a Bernie Sanders rally. Like a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie in the Great British Bake Off. Or a Super Soaker at a Northern Idaho gun show. The trailer for a Pauly Shore movie at the Tribeca Film Festival.

We treat it as the runt of the holiday litter without any proscribed traditions. Every year we wing it. No fireworks or clock-watching countdowns. No designated animal to eat or steal chocolate eggs from. No piece of vegetation to kill and either trim or gut. Maybe a couple parades so that politicians can get some waving-from-a-convertible exposure two months before the election. But that’s about it.

Probably got something to do with being the seasonal signpost for closing the door on summer and staring down that long cold hallway to the deep dark heart of winter. The First Monday of September means the fun has expired and a big dollup of dreary is in the offing. The darkening of the light is nigh. The dividing line between wanton abandon and studious application. Raking dead leaves versus cutting verdant lawns.

The last pair of swim trunks has been worn outdoors and corduroy jackets are being pulled out of boxes from the basement. Time to take down the screens and chop a big cord of wood. Watermelons are replaced with pumpkins on the floor next to the produce bins. And holy moley catfish, there will be pumpkin. Spices, pies, dental floss, yogurt, vodka and Smashed Pumpkins marathons on the radio.

What we tend to forget is the meaning of Labor Day. Twenty- four hours we set aside to honor not the dead, but the living. This is not a paean to grieving heroes who have left us, but rather rejoicing at being a part of a larger functioning whole. Because when Americans pull together, we can accomplish anything. Even estimating the timing of the coals for a perfect medium rare Porterhouse.

It’s a calendaric conundrum. To celebrate what it is we do for a living by taking the day off. Just one day out of 365 for the nine to five heroes that keep this country humming so they can sit back, relax and enjoy that unique moment where it’s okay to toss around both the baseball and the football.

To hang with families and friends before squaring our shoulders and getting back to the job of earning a living and carving out the future. Democracy isn’t easy. Takes a strong back and an indomitable will. And pumpkin spiced lattes.

So Happy Labor Day everybody. Have a great one. Wear your flip-flops. Tap a keg. Char some hot dogs. Because this ain’t no patent leather shoes, champagne and caviar kind of holiday. This is the real red, white and blue deal.

A quick vacation for all of us; blue collar, white collar, clergy collar, no collar, dog collar. For anyone who’s ever busted their butt to put some food on the table and cover a mortgage with maybe a little left over for a 10 year-old’s birthday party featuring an appearance by some college student dressed as Spiderman.

Hey, a gig’s a gig.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

It’s almost impossible to measure the corruption surrounding Donald Trump these days. It is huuuuuge covering the White House with a blanket of sleaze deep enough to bury the six-foot three-inch unindicted Oval Office co-conspirator to the point he’s going to need a two-foot length of bamboo to continue breathing.

His legal problems are growing like mold on the northwest corner of a Hawaiian greenhouse wall. Proliferating like that plastic garbage patch in the Pacific. In the same state of flourishment as dandelions after a week of thunderstorms on a southern Illinois compost heap.

Paul Manafort was found guilty on five counts of tax fraud, two counts of bank fraud and one count of failure to disclose a foreign bank account. A single jury member was responsible for deadlocking the 10 other counts, and somehow all 12 let the defendant totally slide on his incredibly bad taste, incredibly ignoring a $15,000 ostrich-skin jacket and a haircut stolen from Gordon Gekko.

At almost the exact same moment, Michael Cohen pled guilty to eight felonies, implicating the president in two of them. He received a plea agreement and is rumored to be making plans to testify against the president. They’re turning on Trump like preschoolers on a pinata with a rack full of Louisville Sluggers.

One of the normal procedures for urging cooperation from co-conspirators is to offer leniency to culpable family members. And considering the lies and misdirections and conflicted testimony already in play, even Tiffany and Barron are probably seeking outside representation. The family that commits crime together, serves time together.

And knowing the 45th POTUS’s philosophy of one-way loyalty, the only accommodation he’s likely to make is to dedicate an entire cell-block at a federal facility for members of staff and family. He’d probably try to brand it by calling it the Trump Wing. The next family get-together is bound to feature looks as auspicious as the last shots of the season finale of a telenovela.

These were not mere junior staffers who shared the ignominy of attaining convicted felon status on the same day, but Donald Trump’s former campaign manager and personal lawyer. MAGA now stands for Many Are Growing Anxious or My Attorney Got Arrested or Mueller Ain’t Going Away.

In response, our mob boss president railed against the prosecutorial strategy. “It’s called flipping and it almost should be illegal” then called Cohen “a rat” while praising Manafort as still being “a good man.” He predictably resorted to his trusty Rainman refrain, “No collusion. No collusion.” He’s starting to sound like a broken parrot, but bearing his teeth like a cornered wolverine.

Meanwhile, in San Diego, the second congressman to endorse Trump’s campaign, Duncan Hunter, was indicted on 60 federal charges, following in the footsteps of the first congressman to endorse Trump, Christopher Collins, also indicted by the feds. Don’t know who the third congressman to endorse Trump was, but chances are high he’s looking over his shoulder about once every six seconds.

All this proves is not only was Trump unable to pick the best people, he couldn’t even pick the best crooks. He keeps choosing crummy criminals. We can expect Bob Woodward’s book on this one to be titled “.”

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

The ongoing warfare between Omarosa Manigault-Newman and President Donald Trump is more scarily delicious than an underbaked blueberry muffin covered in strawberry marshmallow sauce and wasabi sprinkles. This “D.C. Battle of the Network Stars” is escalating into mouth-to-mouth combat between the master of sleazy opportunism and his star pupil. “Take the pebble from my hand, grasshopper. Hey, put the knife down. Oww.”

Working with the Donald for 10 years and being fired 4 times by him has certainly taught the lady a thing or two. She’s the Frankenstein monster that he and reality television created. An intern who perfected the same kind of oblivious character assassination and complete lack of moral integrity as the aerodynamic coif himself. She has out-Trumped Trump. He must be so proud.

After she revealed secretly recorded conversations including her own firing in the Situation Room, the president called Omarosa a lowlife and a dog. Live by the scheming treachery, die by the scheming treachery. All this is detailed in her book about her time with the president, with the understated title of “Unhinged.” The next book will be called “Crackers and Nuts.”

Trump’s lawyers contend she signed a non-disclosure agreement and have threatened to sue. But legal scholars argue she didn’t work for him, she worked for the American people and NDAs are not applicable or enforceable. And considering the multitudes of officials who’ve already left, negative books are going to rain down on this administration like an avalanche of righteous bile. When Dorothy was in Oz and said “people come and go so quickly here,” she might have been talking about Trump’s White House.

The New York Times reports Manigault-Newman may have 200 other tapes, and claims to be able to get her hands on the legendary recording of the New York City real estate developer casually tossing around the “N” word on the set of “The Apprentice.” Spokesperson Sarah Huckabee Sanders said she can’t guarantee there’s not a tape of Trump using racial slurs. And when SHS starts distancing herself from the boss, it’s time to hunker down deep enough to feel the heat of hell on your backside.

America doesn’t need a secret tape to tell us that Trump is a racist. His birther stance, statements after Charlottesville and lifetime of actions are proof of that. Then again, even if a tape does surface, his supporters wouldn’t care. They’d rationalize that its okay for him to use the “N” word because rap artists say it all the time. “Eddie Murphy made a career out of it.”

Trump distracted non-stop coverage of his former aide’s charges by stripping former CIA Director John Brennan of his security clearance, and the Washington Post reports he has plans to cancel the clearances of other critics to distract the media during unfavorable news cycles. So, in the next year, expect approximately 365 security clearances to be revoked.

But the prospect of further White House recordings has staffers trembling like a hyperactive weasel with eczema sliding down a ski jump. They routinely hear so much horrible stuff at work, who can be entirely positive they didn’t pull a Billy Bush and sycophantically agree with something absolutely dreadful said by someone else?

Trump’s best people best be terrified.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

During the 2016 presidential election, Donald Trump famously proclaimed he would drain the swamp in Washington. But looking at the cast of characters he’s surrounded himself with, it seems more like Trump invited all his carnivorous reptilian buddies to come drain their bladders in the swamp, and now it’s not only bigger but warmer as well.

Mr. Art of the Deal’s career is littered with pyramid schemes, reneging on contracts, unpaid loans, phony foundations, phantom donations, broken promises, deceit, mendacity, moral turpitude and bad hair. He is a parody of avarice spreading a culture of corruption so large it can probably be seen from the Hubble Telescope.

Trump is the King of Corruption. The Maharajah of Malfeasance. Good God of Graft. Captain Crooked. The Pharaoh of Fraud. The Overlord of Venality. The creator and originator of Orange Collar Crime. Wouldn’t be surprised if he hadn’t trademarked that. His insatiable greed and con-man ways give rich people a bad name. Okay, a badder name. Boss Tweed had nothing on this Boss Tweet.

You almost can’t blame his cronies. Once they ooze into the president’s orbit and see everyone else making money hand over fist, they figure they’d better get while the getting’s good. There’s only so much ripe low-hanging fruit. Not to mention lettuce.

Forbes Magazine suggests Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross might have stolen upwards of $120 million and wrote that he could be “one of the biggest grifters in American history.” They also said he was a skinflint who’d pocket packets of Sweet’n Low in restaurants so he didn’t have to buy them. The kind of guy you see and discreetly lock up the silverware.

One of his “best people,” former EPA Director Scott Pruitt was forced to resign after a series of scandals that pegged him as more crooked than a dumpster full of bent wire hangers.

Like Health & Human Services Secretary Tom Price who also resigned under a cloud, Ryan Zinke, Secretary of Interior, loves to travel first class on the taxpayers’ dime and has left a trail of dodgy banking schemes in his wake. These guys are fast turning the swamp into a Jurassic Cesspool.

The first congressman to endorse Trump, Christopher Collins, R-N.Y., was indicted for insider trading. Michael Cohen, the president’s fixer, is presently fixing to fix his fixee. Another early supporter, Duncan Hunter, is under FBI criminal investigation for using campaign funds for personal purposes. These guys are seriously threatening Nixon’s record for most Cabinet members perp- walked up a courthouse steps with a raincoat draped over their handcuffs. In one- third the time.

New York’s Attorney General is suing Trump and his three kids alleging the president used his foundation to benefit himself financially and politically. They also want him banned from running any charity in the state for 10 years for being reckless, unethical and just plain despicable.

During court testimony, former administration official Rick Gates admitted not only to committing crimes at the behest of Trump’s campaign manager, Paul Manafort, but also stealing from him. Manafort allegedly stashed his stolen money in hidden offshore accounts. And both are reported to have stolen from Trump who steals from everyone. This administration is the Russian nesting dolls of crime. And there you go, another connection to Russia. Coincidence? You be the judge.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

We look forward to it for months. Calendars have been cleared, reservations made, and the anticipation in the house is so high, it vibrates like a chicken on meth strapped to a thirty year-old dryer set on spin. The Summer Vacation Trip is nigh. It’s a time-honored testament to all that is right about America. And often, not less than a little of what is wrong.

A brief respite from, and reward for, working hard. A time to reconnect and bond with the family unit, creating indelible memories along with building up patience and pain tolerance levels. Beaches. Theme Parks. Barbecues. Water Slides. Campfires. Unseen vistas. Unfamiliar beds. Unusual insects. Fresh scars.

If your plans entail traveling without using an airport, you should consider yourself luckier than Paul Manafort biting into a Get Out of Jail Free Card in his bologna sandwich. More comfort can be found on an Athens to Sparta diesel bus in the poultry section than on any domestic flight this summer.

They suck us in with those heavily advertised “Special Getaway Fares.” What they neglect to mention is the requirement to leave after 6 p.m. on a Tuesday with two stops and oh yeah, fifty bucks to check a bag, another fifty for window or aisle, ten dollars for every extra inch of legroom and five per bathroom visit.

And driving isn’t much better. I would rather stick a hand full of paper cuts into a vat of Tabasco sauce than hit the road between Memorial Day and Labor Day. Whoever said “getting there is half the fun” never tried finding a parking spot in a National Park or got stuck going up a mountain on a two-lane highway behind a rented RV.

However you plan to embark on your journey, here’s a few hints to minimize the pressure of interacting with families and friends non-stop, 24/7, for days at a time in exotic locales desperately seeking that elusive mythological goal – fun.

HOW TO SURVIVE YOUR SUMMER VACATION

In order to cram all your activities in, try eating only once a day. That whole “low blood sugar” thing is just an old wives’ tale.

Play a game of “Marco Polo” to steer the kids past the gift shops.

100 pushups for every time somebody whines, “I’m bored.”

Mix things up, have a squirt gun fight in a museum. Or do crossword puzzles at the ballgame.

Devices keep them occupied at home, why not on the road?

Take photographs of everything: meals, road signs, and anything that could possibly later be referred to as Plaintiff’s Exhibit A.

Planning ahead is for sissies. Just go for it.

If nobody gets in the spirit of the “Happiest Place on Earth,” force them to sing “It’s a Small World” over and over.

Rush, rush, rush everywhere. You don’t want to miss a thing.

Rest is highly overrated. Tell the kids, “we’ll sleep when we die.”

Traveling with a professional therapist can help put the fun back in dysfunctional family.

Stay calm. Map out an itinerary that includes local craft gin distilleries.

Make sure to schedule at least one day for every two days gone, back at home doing nothing, to recover from your trip.

Next year, seriously reconsider your spouse’s suggestion of separate vacations.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

It was quite a shock to see the president of the United States bend the knee to Vladimir Putin and act as obsequiously as a little leaguer standing next to Aaron Judge. Of course, when Donald Trump spoke while Vladimir Putin drank a glass of water, we all applauded.

In their joint press conference in Helsinki, Finland, Donald Trump made Neville Chamberlain look like a historical badass. He’s given slobbering lapdogs a bad name. Probably compelled Ronald Reagan to spin in his grave so fast you could light up the entire Eastern Seaboard.

Both conservatives and liberals expressed outrage and confusion to see Trump suck up to Vlad the Impaler so hard, many were surprised the Russian President didn’t sport hickeys the size of small manhole covers. I’m not saying Trump’s behavior was a bit smoochy, but Melania has to be hoping he wore a condom.

And that was in public. We have no idea what happened at their extra- special, double secret, two-hour meeting alone. They might have dismissed the interpreters and let nature take its course in a joint session of the He Man NATO Haters Club.

They must’ve treated themselves to some horizontal refreshments, if you catch our drift. Engaged in a little gland-to-gland combat. Played slap the pickle and assault with a friendly weapon. Spent some quality time bumping uglies. Violated the prime directive by engaging in the forbidden polka. Released the Kraken. Or as the kids say: got themselves some serious stank on the hang down.

Former Secretary of Defense Leon Panetta wondered aloud what exactly does Putin have on Trump? Do Russian banks own him? Might there be a video with a live boy or dead goat? Maybe it’s his family. Did Eric break a Russian mobster’s Tiffany Egg?Is he the Manchurian President? Perhaps has one of those explosive implants under his skin like in a James Bond movie? Maybe his hairpiece is a sentient being designed by Soviet army scientists that has surreptitiously controlled him for decades.

Could it be a Montague/ Capulet sort of thing? One theory is he admires the former KG–agent for iron ruling his country for 18 years and wants to grow up to be just like him. More importantly, joining Putin as one of the richest humans on the face of the planet. That would wipe the smirk off Bill Gates’ face.

Supporters argue he’s playing a long-term game and is a stable genius chess master thinking six moves ahead. Or maybe he gets points for every Russian President suck- up and after accumulating enough he gets to invade one of those little aggressive nations like Montenegro or Albania.

After walking back his walk back and unsaying what he said he didn’t say, Trump charged anybody who criticized his groveling as wanting to go to war with Russia. Who knew he was a proponent of Make Love Not War? Besides Michael Cohen, that is.

It’s not right for Americans to have to worry our president is so deep in the pocket of Putin, he’ll be combing lint out of his hair until the midterms. And with a second summit announced for Washington D.C. this fall, our only solace is that he is unable to pass on too many critical secrets due to the fact he doesn’t know anything.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

Q. What’s the skinny on the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh for Supreme Court Justice?

A. Chaos. Confusion. Mutual accusations of partisan politics. Exasperation. Pique. Rage. Intimidation. Slack-jawed lunacy. You know, the usual skinny. Standard operating skinny.

Q. How long did it take after Anthony Kennedy announced his retirement for things to get ugly?

A. Minutes. Seconds. Nano-seconds. A jiffy.

Q. Is there expected to be a confirmation fight?

A. Is the sky blue? Do ducks have webbed feet? Are the stones in the pockets of a dead mobster at the bottom of the East River round?

Q. Hunh?

A. That means yes.

Q. Okay. At the risk of sounding politically incorrect, doesn’t the term, “Justice Brett” kind of ring weird?

A. You got that right. Like saying Sister Mary Cinnamon. The Duchess of South Dakota. The John Goodman Swimsuit Calendar.

Q. President Donald Trump?

A. You said it, not me.

Q. Besides being 28 years younger, how does the 53-year-old Kavanaugh compare to the justice he’s replacing?

A. He was a clerk for Kennedy. So he’s got that going for him. Rumor has it Kennedy only agreed to retire if Kavanaugh got the gig.

Q. So that whole job search and short list thing was just a sham?

A. One more example of the Oval Office Apprentice producing another exciting episode.

Q. What are the major differences between outgoing and incoming?

A. Anthony Kennedy was the swing vote on the Court, sometimes siding with liberals, other times with conservatives. The only swing Justice Kavanaugh is expected to provide will be from the near far right to far far right. If he were your father, you would have been grounded for infinity since the age of 12 for stealing cookies.

Q. How will Democrats fight the confirmation?

A. That’s the problem. They seem to be bouncing between multiple plans.

Q. What’s their initial instinct?

A. To cite the McConnell Rule, and follow the Kentucky Senator’s 2016 precedent that a vacant SCOTUS seat should not be filled during an election year and we should let the people decide.

Q. Well, that seems solid, doesn’t it?

A. Well, now the Republicans maintain that a presidential election is much different than a midterm election, but many suspect what they really mean is that a Republican nomination is much different than a Democratic nomination.

Q. Are there any fallback arguments?

A. One is to mobilize support based on his opposition to abortions rights.

Q. How anti-abortion is he?

A. Hard to tell. He claims to have no preconceived notions about it.

Q. Then he’s be the only person on the face of the planet who doesn’t. Anything else?

A. Other Democrats are worried he’s Trump’s “Get Out of Jail Free Card” due to Kavanaugh authoring an opinion that said presidents are way too busy with affairs of state to attend to something so trifling as a criminal proceeding. And you can imagine Trump heartily agreeing in a tweet from a cart on the sixth fairway of one of his Scottish golf courses.

Q. Any other cunning strategies in the works?

A. The plan the Democrats are most likely to follow is to fight amongst themselves until they forget what they’re fighting about and then lose focus. You know, the standard operating skinny.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.

Raging Moderate

You don’t need 20/20 vision to see that the whole world is waiting for the Democratic Party to push back against the tyrannical tendencies of the Trump administration. And waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

Those of you with weak stomachs need to avert your eyes and keep all children sequestered behind closed doors (at least until after the Midterms are over) because the current state of the American Opposition Party is… well, it ain’t pretty.

These pitiable progressives have managed to combine ineffectiveness with indecision. Add a sprinkle of incipient infirmity and a soupcon of both inert and inept, and you end up with a recipe for impotency, irrelevancy and extinction. A message that their candidates are finding increasingly difficult to sell to concerned constituents. “Join the Democrats. Just like you, we’re confused too.”

Watching them desperately bumble about these days is scarier than finding scorpions in your underwear. Like a letter from the IRS with a big red “Urgent!” stamped on the outside of the envelope. Or the sound of a gun being cocked in the dark. Nearby.

If this current liberal narrative were being chronicled on the big screen, it would qualify as the most boring horror movie ever made – another “Saw” sequel, but one in which everyone sits around talking to their detached limbs and absolutely nothing happens. They are “The Walking Dead” without all the light-hearted slapstick.

There is a growing consensus the Democratic Party should be stripped of the word “party” as it doesn’t really apply anymore. It certainly doesn’t fit in terms of celebration. There’s no frolicking or joviality or joy. Just finger-pointing, recrimination, and whining. Lots and lots of whining. “We can’t fight like him, we have morals.”

Then again, if you mean “party” in terms of a gathering of like-minded individuals, that too leaves quite a bit to be desired. More like a loose collection of misfits who cluster together for the sole purpose of claiming not to like President Donald Trump. Or each other. And that’s about it. They don’t really stand for anything, not even the National Anthem.

You can’t even accuse Democrats of being afraid of their own shadow, because at this point they don’t cast one. Besides, it’s hard to see your shadow when your head is so far up your butt you can tickle your spleen with your elbow.

Not only are they not in the game, they don’t seem to be aware that one is being played. The Republicans attack with torches and pitchforks and the Democratic response is to introduce legislation to reform pitchfork safety standards.

“You should put corks on those. Phosphorescent for nighttime visibility. And if you insist on carrying torches, they need to be flame-resistant. At least one and three-quarters inches long. Should come in for around $12 a piece. I know a guy who knows a guy that can knock them out for six.”

So if you’re waiting for Democrats to stand up to this wanna-be third world strongman and establish any sort of resistance at all, you’d best be advised not to hold your breath unless you enjoy that certain bluish look most often associated with people no longer eligible for social security benefits due to the fact they’ve become altogether much too skinny and dead.

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Copyright 2018, Will Durst, distributed by the Cagle Cartoons Inc. syndicate.

Will Durst is an award-winning, nationally acclaimed columnist, comic and former sod farmer in New Berlin, Wisconsin. For a calendar of personal appearances, including his new one-man show, “Durst Case Scenario,” please visit willdurst.com.