In recent days, our underground folk troubadour Tommy Treacle has re-tuned to the more political. His latest song was written after the series of awkward public statements made during the campaign by JD Vance, Donald Trump’s Acting Sycophant in Chief. To my eye, he’s an odd catwho looks like the poster child for the World Congress of Incels. Definitely the last kid picked at recess kickball. And probably runs around the house wearing a cape. At age 30, still a virgin, the avowed atheist suddenly turned to Catholicism after a defrocked priest taught him how to properly masturbate (his prior attempts ended in failure). The former clergyman fled in disgust, however, when Vance insisted on looking at pictures of himself during the onanistic ritual. Yes, he’s definitely a man for our times!
“For every complex problem, there is a solution that is clear, simple, and wrong.”
— H.L. mencken
Beyond ironic that you would chose to trample our national symbols (our flag, the US Capitol, the Constitution, etc.) in the name of patriotism. The Confederate battle flag would be far more appropriate and intellectually honest. For Trump-Musk, Inc., this is a zero-sum, black-and-white world. But to me, it’s clear who the real “black hats” are (photo from Chicago in Feb 2025).
I’m in despair for, among other things, running low on negative superlatives to describe these MAGASSHOLES. It’s 95% lies and fantasies and hypocrisy and adolescent trolling. It will end badly. And worst for the red-state working class who voted for him. Suckers all. But Emperor Heel-Spur has no clothes. He fancies himself William McKinley but he’s so much closer to PT Barnum, only less honest. A carny huckster. A charlatan. A fraud. As your grandma might say, a giant fuck-wad. What we used to call in grade school a dickweed. Ultimately just a cowardly bully who will get his in the end.
And what he’s been setting up some are calling a monarchy. Nah. A broligarchy? That’s certainly part of it with Musk and Bezos (just cancelled my WaPo subscription, BTW. Where are the Ben Bradlee and Katharine Graham of yesteryear?), though he’ll toss his goofy hatchet-man aside before too long. Kakistocracy? Mos Def. But I was trying to think of other terms we might use to pass the time before the inevitable iceberg hits and sends the USS Trump to the cold and foggy bottom. Here are a few:
Doucheocracy
Trolligarchy
Clown Car-Kleptocracy (CCK)
Frauditarianism
Brutocracy
The Turd Reich
Flailistocracy
The Legion of Tools
Shitshowistan
Confederacyof Dumbasses
Cacastocracy
(Crony)Crapitalism
I’ll try to think of a few more. Let me know if you come up with any. Taking callers now…
The Orange-faced Howler Monkey throws his verbal poop in the hallowed halls of Congress flanked by the two most punchable faces in government during their insufferable smarm offensive. Makes me embarrassed to call myself an American. We would do better with three asylum patients from St. Elizabeth’s old neurosyphilis ward.
The cheerful album cover for “Reign in Blood” by the thrash-metal band Slayer
Today, we continue the saga of that little-known troubadour, Tommy Treacle. The Jan 25, 2025 blog post exposed his failed commercial attempts to produce horror film themes in the 1970’s. As the 1980’s matured, the many genres and subgenres of heavy metal music began to morph and multiply at an astonishing rate. Mr. Treacle found this to be fertile ground for song re-interpretation. In a rare interview with Metal Mania Magazine in 1987, he explained that his initial interest in the project was based on an inability to clearly discern the lyrics of speed and thrash-metal songs. He decided to slow it all down with folk-style arrangements in an attempt to broaden the appreciation for the lyrical elements. This was generally met, by the bands and their rabid fans, with vicious invective that included extreme profanity, colorful threats of death and dismemberment, bursts of saliva (and other unnamed secretions), as well as actual bodily violence. He was stripped naked and nearly lost a testicle at a bowling alley in Dayton, Ohio (it was found 1/2 block away near a Shoney’s and successfully reunited with its owner). He has since stated that time will bear out his unorthodox approach and that it was “all worth it in the end.” On the above track, you will hear a portion of Slayer’s song “Necrophobic” from that same album, followed by Tommy Treacle’s altered arrangement. Please enjoy.
Heartfelt words to live by. My new necro-nihilistic mantra!
“The modern Republican Party is comprised of those who well remember our sordid past and, through both negligence and malfeasance, have condemned us to repeat it.”
— modified quote from george santayana
Mike “Dip-Shit” Johnson (R-Louisiana, Vichy district) places his left hand on the Bible and swears an official oath to “always use my right hand to solemnly jerk-off President Trump in whatever location or time of day, with whatever grip, using whatever hand pressure, either with or without lubricant, eye contact or otherwise, so as to best serve my President and not the country, so help me God.”
The MAN:Coach Steve from “Big Mouth” (voiced by Nick Kroll)Rick, the coach’s decrepit hormone monster (voiced by Nick Kroll), encourages with, “you da man, Steve!” And, yes, his nose is shaped like a penis…
“It’s Simple Steve” (1980) by Herbert Siguenza at the Smithsonian American Art Museum
What follows is a little known story in Hollywood circles that I feel compelled to share. During the spate of fantastical horror films in the 1970’s, there was a folk troubadour who made the rounds from Universal to MGM to Warner Bros. to United Artists and back. He called himself Tommy Treacle and said he hailed from back east, though details of his life are sparse. He carried a weather-beaten acoustic guitar and always wore a tattered brown tee-shirt with the visage of Jim Croce, therein telegraphing his musical leanings (he also sported a tattoo that just say “Hey”). He would quietly pitch his songs as potential themes, with a special predilection for fright-films, saying he wanted to “pour a sack of sugar into Tinseltown’s bottomless vat of vinegar” (he called it the “treacle-down” effect). In this blog post, I present three of his songs that were summarily rejected by the studios as being wildly inappropriate to both mood and theme. It was said that on being dismissed, he would just smile, shoulder his guitar, and whistle a strange tune — one described as being somehow both bright and mournful — as he climbed into his orange El Camino with vanity plates exclaiming LOVE to the wide wide world. In all three audio clips, you will hear the film trailer followed by Mr. Treacle’s proposed theme song. Enjoy (rated PG).
I consider the 70’s to be the highpoint of the horror film trailer. I was totally freaked by the preview for “Alien” (1979). The one for “It’s Alive” was enough to keep me away from the theater (although I think that had more to do with it being a knock-off of “Rosemary’s Baby”). Now they seem mostly funny and so totally over-the-top, but in the best possible way. “Frogs” was an incredibly lame attempt at horror as environmental warning, even if prescient. Co-incidentally, my sister’s nickname is Frog, which she fully embraces, and it arose from her showing early expertise at swimming the breaststroke. She has numerous celebratory frog tchotchkes and keepsakes at home, mostly gifts. My wife, on the other hand, cannot stand the croaking of frogs and gets semi-freaked out when I threaten to play the above film trailer. Alas, there’s room in this weird world for both extremes and all those in-between. That’s, at least, what Tommy Treacle would say.
Growing up in the DC area, it was a right of passage to walk up and down the infamous “Exorcist steps” at the western end of Georgetown (near Dixie Liquor!). If memory serves, I did it once with some friends and found it a bit anti-climactic. However, at a certain time of day, you might see the Georgetown crew team spiritedly running up and down those stairs, which sounds truly demonic. Come to think of it, those stairs may have been the actual cause of death of Father Merrin (played by Max von Sydow), who was shown earlier in the film taking nitroglycerin for his heart condition. You see, everything converges in the end. And aren’t we all, for each other and on every given day, exorcists?!
Great Exudations 