Tag: Patrick Scullin

  • Pelosi Discloses Her Plans To Destroy America

    Pelosi Discloses Her Plans To Destroy America

    The evil one tells her game plan, be afraid–– very afraid!

    If there’s one thing Speaker of The House Nancy Pelosi hates, it’s you.

    “I can’t stand America,” Pelosi told The Lint Screen. “The only thing I hate more is Americans. Especially the patriotic ones.”

    Indeed. The pixie of a woman is hellbent on the destruction of our great God-loving, flag-waving, MAGA hat-wearing nation.

    “Trump keeps talking about his border wall. He’s never going to get it, not as long as I’m drawing breath,” Pelosi said while snapping the necks of adorable infants. “I could care less about those people affected by the government shutdown, there will be no big beautiful border wall for Trump!” Pelosi spat on the ground, chugged from her bottle of Southern Comfort and placed a plug of chewing tobacco in her right cheek before continuing.

    “Democrats want open borders for caravans of rapists, drug smugglers, murderers, terrorists, kids with bad attitudes who need a good talking to so that they’ll straighten up and fly right, and devil worshippers. A wall is a trusted and proven technology for keeping people out. Nothing can get past a wall! Look at China–– it’s nothing but Chinese people thanks to their wall! Walls do for security what wheels do for mobility. And we can’t keep criminals out–– not when I make a ton of money by letting them in.”

    Pelosi said she operates a “coyote” operation that charges illegals bags of cash to make it safely into America. “It’s a ruse I’ve been running out of the House for years.”

    But that’s not all! Pelosi is also palsies with Pootie.

    “Putin and I are thick as thieves,” Pelosi said as she petted “Ralphie” her pet rat. “I’ve met with the Vladinator five times and we’ve talked for hours, alone. Just me and the big man. What did we talk about? Just never you mind. None of your bee’s wax. See if you can find one shred of evidence about anything we said–– I dare you! You won’t. There’s no record and if there was, I destroyed it.”

    The Speaker also likes to take advantage of her position of power. “I have hundreds of Air BnBs nationwide,” she said, “and lobbyists and foreign countries know they’d better book with me if they want to get America’s business. I charge them a buttload for the privilege. You scratch my back, I’ll take the scratch from your wallet. Easy peasy!”

    She can’t stand the freedom of the press. “It’s too much,” she said. “Saudi Arabia Prince Mohammed bin Salman had the right idea. You want to have a free press, be prepared to pay the price.”

    Pelosi considers Trump an enemy. “He is doing an incredible job of running the country, I have to do everything I can to try and trip him–– like Mueller’s witch hunt! The Republicans have proven they only care about the little guy and the middle class. Look at that huge tax cut they delivered last year. That money went straight into the pockets of Joe Sixpack and Jane Lunchbox. How are Democrats supposed to fight that?”

    The petite woman finished chugging her SoCo and hurled the empty bottle at the wall smashing it. “Trump is a natural born leader. He’s smart, mature, empathetic, compassionate, has flawless integrity and high morales. Donald Trump never got anything. He made his own way. He did it his way with brains and hard work. Hell, he was a millionaire at age eight! He makes Horatio Alger look like a slacker. Trump pulled himself up by the bootstraps and made himself the incredible success he is today. The guy’s an American success story in orange pudgy flesh. I envy him. He makes me want to cut his Achilles tendons with a rusty linoleum knife.”

    Pelosi’s eye rolled back into her skull. She sat up. “Mama needs her a fix,” she told this reporter. “Hand me your belt and skedaddle. Time for me to ride Satan’s horse!”

  • Giuliani Clarifies His Trump Defense Strategy

    Giuliani Clarifies His Trump Defense Strategy

    Rudy is shocked at how the media is distorting his words and his client’s innocence.

    President Trump’s personal legal beagle, Rudy Giuliani stopped by The Lint Screen offices this morning to clarify statements he made to CNN yesterday.

    “It’s outrageous how the lamestream liberal media is putting words in my mouth,” Rudy screamed, flashing his million-dollar smile and exuding studliness. “The president has never changed his position. Of course, some people in the Trump campaign colluded with the Russians. Why not, who doesn’t? We’ve never denied that. I’ve been saying for a long time that some people were probably colluding–– but how could we possibly know? Are we God?” The legal mastermind shrugged his manly shoulders and trained his beautiful brown babies on his listeners. He continued making his bulletproof case.

    “But the president himself has never colluded with the Russians. Never. Never, ever, ever! Period. Full stop. The end! And even if he did collude with the Russians, it wouldn’t be illegal because he knew he was going to be elected president, and everyone knows that if the president does it, it is by definition legal. That’s called The Presidential Privilege Law. Look it up! I’m dead serious here–– I’m a really good lawyer, dammit!”

    Giuliani pounded the desk. “Damn, that hurts!” The beefcake rubbed his seductive paw and grimaced his Hollywood handsome face. “I’ll sue you and this office furniture for assault and battery! Everyone is out to get me and the president! And if somehow someone finds that collusion with Russia is illegal, so what? Hypothetically speaking reality is questionable and the president does not exist. So how can he be guilty of anything? See, there is positively no case against the president.”

    We asked the legal expert if he was concerned about the many investigations into the Trump campaign and the shady business practices of The Trump Organization.

    “Absolutely not,” declared the bar association’s sexiest sex symbol as he tossed the luxurious locks on his head and gave a come-hither look.

    “Mueller’s on a witch hunt. Congress is cooking up schemes to chase the president. We’re not worried. An innocent man never sweats. And Donald Trump is as dry as a cucumber on a Turkish towel under a tanning light.”

    The hottie dabbed his damp face with his necktie sopping up sweat like he was thirsty cornbread in a puddle of red gravy. He did it in a devil-may-care manner, oozing manly pheromones.  Rudy wrung-out the tie and made his summation.

    “The president is absolutely innocent. There was no collusion. Or, very little collusion. Maybe some collusion. Okay, perhaps a lot of collusion and Putin is calling all the shots. But for the last time, there’s nothing to see here. Case closed. Now let’s build that border wall and fix everything that’s wrong with America!”

  • Borscht Or Burgers? Trump Goes American

    Borscht Or Burgers? Trump Goes American

    Prez decides to serve beefy football players beef-like burgers

    President Trump faced a difficult decision yesterday–– what to serve the college football champion Clemson Tigers during their White House celebration visit.

    “The president has excellent taste,” political advisor Stephen Miller told The Lint Screen. “He originally wanted to expand the palates of the players with bowls of borscht, a beety bounty. Umm, who doesn’t like borscht? But he had a change of mind.”

    Instead, Trump decided on serving a buffet of fast food burgers, fries, salads, and pizza.

    “The White House kitchen is closed because of the government shutdown––which is the fault of the traitor Democrats,” Miller said. “So, our glorious leader took matters into his hands and ordered the delicious American food. He even paid for it with his very own money. American money! Obviously, the president loves America, and the Democrats do not.”

    When the bills for the food arrived, the president offered to pay ten cents on the dollar. “It was great advertising,” said Miller. “He is a great leader.”

  • Exclusive: Trump-Putin Secret Helsinki Meeting Transcript

    Exclusive: Trump-Putin Secret Helsinki Meeting Transcript

    “The President’s Club” had a super secret meeting–– but we’ve got the inside dope!

    The Lint Screen has secured a top secret transcript of a private meeting President Donald J. Trump held with Russian President Vladimir Putin in Helsinki in July.

    The document is the only known transcript of this meeting. Immediately following the world leader pow wow, the translators suffered fatal bone saw accidents. Somehow a transcript was made and marked “HUSH HUSH, SUPER SECRET–– DON’T READ, THIS MEANS YOU!!!!” The papers were wrapped around a baby sturgeon and left outside The Lint Screen offices where they stunk to high heaven.

    Here is the transcript in its entirety.

    DT: I’m doing pretty great, right, boss?
    VP: Pretty good, Donald. Not bad.
    DT: I think I’m doing a tremendous job, everyone says so.
    VP: Did you bring me the nuclear codes?
    DT: Oh, I forgot. I left them at the hotel.
    VP: I need the codes, Donald.
    DT: I’ll get them to you, no worries. What’s your email again?
    VP: No emails. No digital trails, Donald. We’ve talked about this.

    DT: Right. What’s a digital trail again?

    VP: Emails. Texts.

    DT: What about Tweets? Everyone loves my Tweets.

    VP: No Tweets. Absolutely not!

    DT: I write excellent Tweets. I get a ton of news coverage with my Tweets. They’re very presidential. Everyone reads my Tweets.

    VP: That’s why we don’t want Tweets, Donald. Remember– secrecy! We need secrecy.

    DT: Right. Secrecy. Super secret! My lips are sealed, boss.

    VP: Good.

    DT: I could give you the codes in a Hannity interview. He really, really likes me.

    VP: No! Not on television.

    DT: But Hannity’s not digital. And he gets great ratings. I can also talk to Fox and Friends, they’re very well respected! They like me, too.

    VP: No. The codes are strictly between you and me.

    DT: You and me. Right!

    VP: No one else needs to know. No one.

    DT: Right. A president’s club secret. Just us.

    VP: Good. Have you killed Mueller yet?

    DT: Mueller’s running the world’s biggest witch hunt!

    VP: Yes, yes, I know, Donald. Did you kill him?

    DT: No collusion!

    VP: Right, no collusion. Have you killed him yet?

    DT: I can kill him?

    VP: Not you, have someone else do it.

    DT: Jared? Ivanka? Have you seen Ivanka lately? She’s so hot! Incredible body.

    VP: It shouldn’t be a family member, Donald.

    DT: Right. Jared has a full plate anyway–– Middle East peace, opioid epidemic, infrastructure, cure poverty, more tax cuts for rich, world hunger, more revenue for the Trump organization, and some other stuff. And Ivanka–– man, she looks so fine.

    VP: Focus, Donald! Who will take care of your Muller problem?

    DT: Focus. Right. Let me think.

    (AN AWKWARD TWELVE MINUTES OF SILENCE)

    DT: I got it, boss–– Pence!

    VP: Pence. Yes, Pence is good–– no one would suspect him.

    DT: He’s a goody two shoes. I’ll order him to do it. He has to do whatever I say.

    VP: Just get it done before Mueller releases something.

    DT: It’s a total witch hunt. No collusion. None.

    VP: Right. Did you get my orders about shutting down the government?

    DT: Yes. I’ll do it. A government shutdown, check!

    VP: How? What’s your plan?

    DT: The wall. My big, beautiful wall. Build my wall or I’ll shut down the government!

    VP: Good. Blame it on the Democrats.

    DT: It’s the Democrat’s fault! Very weak on border security. They want to let rapists and murderers in. 

    VP: Get it done.

    DT: The wall shutdown. Right! No worries, boss! I’m your man.

    VP: That’s what I like to hear. To be sure you stay on task, I will have Sergei Lavrov and Sergey Kislyak checking up on you. Get them an office next to yours.

    DT: I can get them desks in my Oval Office. I have that power. Love those guys.

    VP: No, that might be too much. Too close. We don’t want to arouse any suspicion.

    DT: Right. Secrecy. Keep it secret. I’ll find them some office space in The White House. Maybe the Lincoln bedroom–– Lincoln never sleeps in there.

    VP: Lincoln is dead, Donald.

    DT: That explains it. Lincoln was an awful president. Very bad.

    VP: Just get your tasks done and keep Sergei Lavrov and Sergey Kislyak informed.

    DT: Will do, skipper!

    VP: Don’t call me that.

    DT: Sorry, boss.

    VP: Let’s break this up. Not a word to anyone about what we discussed.

    DT: Mum’s the word. Check!

    VP: Keep up the good work, Donald. We will talk later about the Trump Kremlin Tower.

    DT: It will be a great addition to the Moscow skyline.

    VP: Yes, yes. Do your job, Donald.

    DT: I will. I’ll make you proud.

    VP: You had better do that, or else––

    DT: No collusion!

    VP: No collusion. Now get me those codes, Donald!

    DT: Will do, skip!

    VP: Quit calling me that!

    DT: Sure thing, boss.

    THE MEN STAND, SHAKE HANDS AND EXIT.

  • The Tenth Pick In The Great Album Game

    The Tenth Pick In The Great Album Game

    Grab a seat, your opera glasses, and settle in for a wild musical journey.

    Pick number ten of the great album game (that’s Pick X for Super Bowl fans, wait–– I don’t want to pay the NFL licensing fees–– that’s Pick X for “The Big Game” fans).

    My first pick was The Beatles, and I am finishing with Queen. Two British bands, each made an indelible mark in rock history. These bands are also two anchors of fond memories of my best friend Joe Riccitelli, who cancer took from our world on December 30, 1999.

    Fuck cancer.

    Growing up in Hubbard, Ohio, Joe lived three backyards away. Although I have six brothers, Joe was my seventh.

    When we were ten or eleven years old, we were Beatles fanatics. Joe, another neighbor named Ernie Stinson and I would meet in Joe’s garage and pretend we were The Beatles (it was a thing, okay?). Joe would swipe a pack of his father’s cigarettes (Raleighs, with a coupon on every pack–– smoke more, collect tickets, get prizes!).

    Joe had two badminton racquets. Since we three bandmates trying to play the Fab Four, one of us would be John, one Paul, and one Ringo (there were only TWO guitars–– Rickenbacker badminton racquets!). Joe had a terrific voice, and Ernie’s wasn’t bad. I sounded like a squeaky toy run over by a truck. So I usually got stuck being Ringo. I could pretend to drum and nod my head with a lit ciggy butt dangling from my lips (just like in the Beatles movies!).

    We were cool kids. Bad boys.

    Fast forward to years later when Joe and I became Queen fanatics (Ernie had moved away–– was he on tour, why didn’t he take us?). Now that we were legitimate teens, we were smoking our own cigarettes, not stolen ones. No coupons for us. We didn’t pretend to be Queen in Joe’s garage. Nope. We’d drive around singing Queen–– like in Wayne’s World.

    We even drank beer. We liked beer!

    We saw Queen live twice in Cleveland, and the band was phenomenal. Freddie Mercury (birth certificate name: Farrokh Bulsara) was an incredibly charismatic performer who owned the crowd from the moment he stepped on stage. The band was tight as a new olive jar in zero gravity. Brian May created a guitar sound like no other–– crisp, vibrant, spine seducing–– the result of his astrophysicist brain applied to electric guitar electronics.

    On vinyl, the first two Queen albums, cleverly titled Queen and Queen II staked the band as a legit hard rock, progressive act. With their third album Sheer Heart Attack, they showed more versatility with all four band members contributing songs. Mercury’s Killer Queen became an international hit. But it was 1975’s A Night At The Opera that busted them wide open. At the time, it was the most expensive album ever produced.

    The album opened with Death On Two Legs, an intimate f-u from Mercury to the band’s old manager. From there, the band explores a world of musical genres–– Lazing On A Sunday Afternoon puts Mercury in a time machine as he trips us into the 1920s. Then, it shifts into Roger Taylor’s I’m In Love With My Car, porn for gearheads. Next is one of my favorite Queen songs, John Deacon’s You’re My Best Friend, with a melodic hook that sets itself deep and reels you in. Followed by a Brian May song he described as sci-fi skittle, “39”, then, May’s “Sweet Lady” and completing side one with Mercury’s “Seaside Rendezvous”, another blast to the past complete with muted horns, tap dancing, and a kazoo for good measure. All with the layered harmonies only Queen could do.

    Side two opens with the weakest song on the album, Brian May’s The Prophet Song. It’s based on a dream May had while battling hepatitis. It is very prog-rocky, and long at over eight minutes. Cut two is Mercury’s haunting and beautiful Love of My Life, complete with a harp (not played by Harpo, surprising given the Marx Brothers title of this album). Cue the ukulele for the next track, Mercury’s Good Company, with May laying in some sweet guitar licks. This sets up the band’s best-known song, Bohemian Rhapsody. Scaramouche, there has never been a song like this one–– mixing real life with fantasy and offering no escape from reality, etc. The band closes the album with a heroic rendition of God Save The Queen with the Queen Mum playing glockenspiel.

    I may have gotten that last part wrong.

    A Night At The Opera is a treat. The band would go on to make more great music and deliver amazing performances–– Queen at Live Aid, anyone?

    The world lost a great artist when Mercury died in 1991. And whenever I hear Queen, I remember Joe, my great friend who I lost, my bandmate I sang with and shared so many great times.

    There you have it–– my ten picks (eleven albums, I cheated a little) and why I love them. Because music is so personal, I also know this list is fluid, an organic process subject to change. I battled with albums and artists that almost made this ten collection but didn’t–– Dylan’s Blonde on Blonde, The Who Quadrophenia, Temptations, Led Zepplin II, Jimi, The Clash London Calling, Ricki Lee Jones debut album, Sam and Dave’s Hold On I’m Comin’, and on and on.

    I haven’t even touched jazz, classical, country, western swing, theatre music, blues, or bluegrass.

    I’m thankful all these musical styles exist. Any great song can instantly transport one to a time and place and feeling.

    Music is a time machine, an audio miracle that moves us, jump starts our emotions and give you a bump of dopamine with a chaser of uncut joy.

    Think about your list. Indulge and lose yourself in the soundtrack your life.

    Thanks for reading. And fuck cancer!

  • The Ninth Pick In The Great Album Game

    The Ninth Pick In The Great Album Game

    A rock legend, a musical chameleon, an artistic trailblazer. But boy, could he play guitar.

    For my ninth pick I’m doing a two-fer–– one great British singer/songwriter and one American. Yeah, I know it’s a cheat, but screw it. My game, my rules.

    An artist is lucky if he can impact his art once. David Bowie did it again and again and again. I wouldn’t be surprised if he does it again after his death. He was that good.

    Davy Jones formed his first band at age 15, became dissatisfied with the commitment and drive of his bandmates, and proceeded to ping around a variety of blues-influenced bands. He never felt at home.

    In the mid-60’s he changed his name to avoid confusion with Davy Jones of The Monkees (his first choice for a name was Mickey Dolenz, which unfortunately was also taken). David selected Bowie as his last name after Jim Bowie and his knife. Remember him? Remember the Alamo? If I had a Bowie knife at your throat, you’d sure as hell remember!

    In 1967, Bowie released his first album (cleverly titled David Bowie). It made little noise and slid into the abyss. He met a dancer, studied dance, joined the circus, studied dramatic arts, avant-garde theatre, mime, and commedia dell’arte. He sopped it all up like thirsty bread in a puddle of gravy. His theatric flair would come into play throughout his career. Early in ’69, he went on a short tour with Marc Bolon’s Tyrannosaurus Rex. Bowie was third on the bill doing a mime act.

    Yes, a mime act. Live with it.

    Bowie released his song Space Oddity five days before the launch of Apollo 11 (July 11, 1969). Being stuck inside a tin can was a hit, David Bowie was on his way. Over the next three years, he recorded and released albums that gained him an avid following and introduced an androgynous look in concerts and interviews.

    DB devoured culture and fed his imagination. He created ‘the ultimate pop star’ the character of Ziggy Stardust–– a combination of Iggy Pop and the music of Lou Reed (Bowie would later work with both artists). The album Ziggy Stardust And The Spiders From Mars was released in 1972. Bowie was Ziggy, an androgynous bisexual rock star who acts as a messenger for extraterrestrial beings. The glam rock legend was born and over his career, Bowie would assume other personas–– Aladdin Sane, The Thin White Duke, and other musical identities through different genres.

    Ever the chameleon, Bowie was an artist always in search of being original, right down to his swan song album Blackstar. For a nice sampler of early to mid-Bowie, David Live is a great one to feast upon.

    Some rock stars are destined, never to be denied.

    Now, let’s make America great again. In 1960, at age 10, Tom Petty met Elvis thanks to an uncle working on a movie with the hip-shaking hipster. Three years later, little Tommy saw The Beatles on Ed Sullivan and was hooked. The rock star life was for him, it seemed like a pretty good gig (it’d look cool on the ol‘ resume). Where do you sign up?

    Petty began learning and playing. One of his teachers was Don Felder who would later join the Eagles. Tom began forming bands and gigging like a madman. He dropped out of school and worked odd jobs like laboring on the grounds crew at The University of Florida and digging graves (not on campus–– this was a different job).

    Tom had the passion bad, the rock bug burning hot in his heart. After his band Mudcrutch broke up, he formed The Heartbreakers and they beat it to L.A. pursuing their dream of trying to get signed. They did, and in ’77 they released their self-titled album with the song Breakdown, which became a big hit in the U.K. and made some waves stateside.

    1979’s Damn the Torpedoes is the third album of Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers, and it became huge. Triple platinum. On his next album Hard Promises, his new label MCA wanted to raise the disc’s price from $8.98 to $9.98. Petty was pissed, he didn’t want to appear like he was price gouging fans. He waged a bitter battle with the label and held the price.

    Petty would go on to record many great albums, along with side projects like Traveling Wilburys (he got to play with a Beatle, Bob Dylan, and Roy Orbison–– talk about your rock dreams), writing an excellent soundtrack for the film She’s The One, and re-booting his old gang of Mudcrutch. He even had a cool radio show called Tom Petty’s Buried Treasure on Serius XM.

    When you consider the number of great, classic rock songs Petty made, he is one for the ages. For a deeper dive in TP and the making of his album Wildflowers, listen to the Broken Record podcast with Malcolm Gladwell and Rick Rubin. Listen to all the episodes, they are excellent.