Saturday, December 10, 2016

One of the things I would never do is run for president.

The way I see it is that Donald Trump is either a mass murderer or a candidate for sainthood. Nobody really seems to have anything serious on him that has stuck.

On the other hand if the Piccolo for President campaign had taken off there would have been a pretty good smear campaign going on because I am guilty as hell of just about everything except for worshipping graven images and maybe even that.

Like just about every soldier, commercial fisherman, carpenter and general laborer I drank, raised hell and whored as the opportunity arose. You expected anything less?

I suppose it would not be too hard to chase things down and get people to exagerate or even fabricate stories on my younger days.

On the other hand, my general defense is not what most people would think. I generally admit to something worse.

"No I did not do that after a couple of beers. It was after a bottle of scotch. Beer doesn't effect me that way."

Or this:

"Yeah? So? You jealous or something because you didn't have the balls to try it out?"

If possible you drag your accuser into it.

"Yeah? So? You're the one that supplied the whiskey. I suppose you were the shining example of sainthood that night?"

One of the things I ever learned was to admit to the truth. One of the sneakiest things I ever learned is to admit to terrible things I didn't do. It stops the argument right then and there. It generally sends the accuser right into shock. They don't know what to say. 

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this: NO ANIMALS WERE HARMED IN THE WRITING OF TODAY'S ESSAY

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