In Visit to Spook HQ, Trump Hounds Media
Jan. 21, 2017
SO IT TURNS OUT that while my humans (the Nice One and the Grouchy One) and I were whooping it up at the Rhode Island Women’s Rally in Providence, R.I. on Saturday, Trump was in Langley, V.A., at Spook Heaven, trying to make nice with the CIA.
I know this because, as I’ve mentioned, Cat and I are forced to listen incessantly to NPR on the radio when the humans abandon us at our home in Newport, R.I., which happened today when they went to the theater in Pawtucket, R.I., the city where the longest game in baseball history was played.
One of the few things that Cat and I agree on is that NPR can really wear on you after you listen hour after hour after hour after hour. Did you know that if you let NPR tow away your old car, it can be sold at auction, and then NPR gets some money, which it use to produce “the programs you love” and you can get a couple of bucks off your income taxes?
If you don’t know that, you haven’t listened to NPR for hour after hour after hour. They have these commercials for this tax scam every five minutes (at least in dog and cat minutes). Some of the ads are narrated by anchors and reporters, who sound alike with their deep know-it-all voices. Every time they get to the punch line about turning your old car into the programs you love, every one of them makes it sound like they just discovered the Dead Sea Scrolls.
Even Cat choked on that one, and I have my suspicions about who Cat voted for, something we can get into at another time.
Next, Trump took off after the news media like a dog after a squirrel, saying the media conspired to report Trump’s inauguration crowds were smaller than Obama’s.
Now look, there’s nothing wrong with a president or anyone else going after a squirrel. Squirrels belong on the national security no-fly list, since, as someone correctly described them: “Squirrels are just rats with good public relations.”
WHY DO I CARE about the attack on the media, since I’m just a dog? I turn it back to you: Why are you reading this? Because I’m a dog with a blog. Which makes me a member of national journalism pack. Any attack on one of us is an attack on the entire pack.
The fact is that the press pack has decided not to call Trump a “liar,” because a liar, according to some dictionary definition, is somebody who knowingly misleads, and no one can really know what’s in Trump’s mind, which itself is a whopper of an understatement.
Instead, we have to leave it that Trump’s version “doesn’t square with the facts.” Aerial photos of both inauguration crowds show that Obama’s crowds were bigger. And the radio – or maybe one of my humans said – that some transportation authority said more people rode public transportation to Obama’s event than to Trump’s.
ACTUALLY, these facts don’t interest me, either.
You know why I don’t trust Trump? No dogs have moved into the Trump White House that I’ve heard about. Whereas, the Obamas had TWO Portuguese Water dogs, the beautiful Bo and the sunny Sunny.
Which brings me to my closing argument: Can you believe a president who doesn’t have a dog?
I rest my case.