Well the reviews are in- on Trump's SNL hosting and my HWS blog. Neither is altogether good. Shewho said she read it 3 times, trying to laugh and felt it was written by a 5 year old boy. And as far as Trump went it was predictably lame. Even Larry David's "Racist" cry (a complete set up) fell flat. What happened to that stupid audience? What an opportunity to get on national TV and make bank. A bunch of wimps. But back to me. I pride myself in my refined comedic chops. Shewho has no sense of humor. Let's ask Mupp. He loved it. I asked him what Ginger thought of it? "Ginger you have to read Osti's blog." he yelled from the phone. "Oh great." she said. So that's one I LOVED IT. one GREAT. and one "I don't think it's funny." Guess I aced it.
But it's not Trump or my uneven reviews that's got me going these days, it's that sociopathic narcissist Ben Carson. Tonight's quote was the most telling. "When you go back decades in one's life, of course there will be inconsistencies." As an artist that uses his past as source material to be displayed and examined, i know a thing or two about truth in personal history. Sure, I've heard stories so many times from Savage or Mupp, that sometimes I think I was there, but I never thought I was accepted to West Point or kicked some kid's ass (when i didn't). I had an uncle who thought he was in the Green Berets and fought in Vietnam. His delusions weren't uncovered until he had promoted himself to Major and rode in a convertible as the grand marshall in the Memorial Day parade. Dr. Carson has a bit of my uncle in him.
Even if the Larry David heckle was a set up, it's true. Do we want a racist President? Do we want a deluded egoiste President? Then there's Jeb Bush. Do we want another Bush? Nothing's funny about any of these guys. The other night, just as Savage was leaving, after hunting the afternoon at Majestic, i felt something on my upper thigh. I dropped my pants, and as Savage looked on in horror, I discovered an engorged tick, surrounded by an angry red patch on my leg. I couldn't see well enough to get a good grip on it. As I grabbed my knife to dig it out, Savage intervened. "Here. Hold still. I'll get it." Then he went down on his knees, moved his head slowly towards my throbbing epidermis....and gently removed the tick, grasping it between his front teeth, spitting it into the palm of my hand. It was not altogether unpleasant. I swear. I was there.