The High Road Is Not Easy

My Facebook friends have been posting some extremely funny comments about the upcoming Presidential election. I’ve sworn off sharing my own opinions on this on Facebook. Too many friends of a different political persuasion have added snarky remarks to my posts.

I recently made the following comment on a political cartoon on someone else’s page.

Oh snap. Glad I had deadlines the last few days and have been taking a break from CNN. Trying to stay on the high road is like having to pee something fierce, but there’s no bathroom nearby, and you’re forced to walk around with your knees pressed tightly together.

After I read what I wrote, I thought: There is definitely a blog post in this. Here then are some other things that staying on the high road is akin to.

It’s like going to confession as a teenager and telling the priest that your sin was that you lied to your parents. Meanwhile, you know you should really confess to what you and Buzzy were doing in the back seat of his car last weekend. But you also know that if you share that, there will be hell to pay. So the guilt is killing you.

Taking the high road is like going to a wine tasting when you’re the designated driver. You can have just a tiny sip of a few of the offerings. Meanwhile your friends are flying high on the Barolo, the Brunello and the Prosecco. You’re following the waiters around the room, eating as many canapés as you can grab off their trays, but you’re still bitter and resentful. Everyone else is having a great time and you… well, you’re committed to taking the dry road.

It’s like finding the quintessential pastry café in Vienna. Your tongue is literally hanging out as your mouth waters over the elegant sweets. Your traveling companions have plates full of the little morsels. You order just herbal tea, because you’ve promised your GP you will not put on one additional ounce during this trip. You’ll keep to 1100 calories a day, pushing toward your goal of losing another ten pounds.

Women who work in Manhattan will appreciate this high-road metaphor. You’re forced to wear five-inch heels every day so you look professional and have more height. What you long for is ballet flats. They’re so much more comfortable. But no; flats are not an option, because you’ve chosen a career on the high-heel road.

The cover story of a recent issue of Time magazine brought to my attention a reason why taking the high road is especially challenging. Those who treasure a well-turned phrase have dozens of zingers careening around in their brain, but on their restricted path, they can’t use any of them. I was particularly inspired by some of late-night-TV comedian Samantha Bee’s bon mots. (She has her own TBS show, Full Frontal.) Because I’m on that high road, I can’t tell you who her target was. You’ll just have to guess.

Remember: I’m not saying these things. “People” are saying them. OK. Not “people;” Samantha Bee. Here are three of her more imaginative aphorisms: “tangerine-tinted trash-can fire,” “screaming carrot demon” and “America’s burst appendix.”

Speaking of bursting, my brain is about to explode. It’s so full of colorful descriptions I’d love to hurl at someone who shall remain nameless. It’s a cruel world. And it’s even crueler up here on that high road.

Conflated Words

Combining two words into one gained popularity as shorthand for celebrity pairings. You have Brangelina (Pitt and Jolie) and the various Bennifers (Affleck/Lopez, and then Affleck/Garner). This time-saving conceit has been adopted as a way to use fewer words to say what’s on one’s mind. There’s Spanglish (Spanish flavored English) and more recently candle (can’t handle). The trend should come as no surprise in a society where one Presidential candidate uses Twitter as his primary means of communication.

I've decided to hop on the bangon (that’s the conflated “band wagon”). I might as well start with some shortened political phrases. The Vice Presidential contenders will heretofore be known as venders or veepers. I feel like the Democrats should use venders and the Republicans are more likely to adopt veepers. Blind loyalty (a key criterion in the search for the Republican Veep) will now be bloyalty.

In advance of the actual VP picks, we can still play the power couples game that helped start this trend. Hillary and Tim Kaine could mash up as Hiltim, but that sounds too much like a hotel chain, which would smack of Trump. That leaves Clinkain, evoking Clint Eastwood as Robert Kincaid in The Bridges of Madison County. On the Hispanic front, we could have Hillian Clintro, which sounds way too anatomical. OK. How about Hilliz? If it’s mispronounced as “Hell, Yes,” it gives Warren an edge.

Returning to bloyalty, The Donald and Chris Christie would be known as Trysty. (Better than Crump.) Pairing the Don with Newt Gingrich gets a new Nike slogan: Just Dewt. (Way better than Grump.) Scott Brown offers the option Donott, which could sound like “done it” (as in “been there, done that”). This would appeal to Donald’s ego. “We are the Trumpions” would make Jeff Sessions a clear front runner were it not for Queen’s intro line “…mistakes, I’ve made a few…” The Donald never makes mistakes.

In the meantime, prolls (Presidential polls) will continue to assess which venders or veepers are the current favorites with the bookies. The Presidential campaigns will be issuing policy papers (polpers), or in some cases white papers (whoppers). The Republican candidate will condense his positions into a tweet. This will challenge his staff to come up with hyper-conflated words, while preserving his hyper-inflated ego.

Moving from politics to healthy eating trends, expect to see gloofy, shoofy and floofy on package labels. No, these are not new names for the trio of characters on Rice Krispies boxes. They’re shortened versions of gluten free, sugar free and flavor free. They’re usually seen as a threesome since the first two often result in the third.

Let’s get more personal. I need to make time to dye my hair when my groots (gray roots) start showing a half inch or more. Here’s some advice to all of you: best to avoid me when I’m crungry (cranky and hungry). This would probably be more accurately conflated into hanky, since being hungry usually precedes getting cranky. But hanky begs to be followed by panky. I try to spend a half hour each day on saxtice (saxophone practice). Which is more than I spend on that hanky stuff, begging not withstanding.

Pop culture provides many opportunities for collapsing words together. “Social Media” can become smedia. Sports-minded readers will find it easier to talk about their fleague than their fantasy league. You can dismiss someone’s opinion with just one word: zif (short for “as if”). Someone who’s slow on the uptake is bramaged (brain damaged). You can throw shade on someone’s looks by saying they’re bugly (butt ugly). By the time they figure it out, you’ll be beyond spitting range.

We could play this game all day, but you get the idea. At least I hope you do. Because if you don’t, you’re either not paying attention, or you’re bramaged.

Campaign Trail Music

At one of Donald Trump’s recent rallies, a woman asked why TSA workers in “hibby-jobbies” (or some mangled version of hijab) aren’t being replaced with veterans who need work. Trump said he’d be looking into that. This reminded me once again that he encourages xenophobia. And then one of those light bulbs went on over my head.

Trump should put together a musical group to tour with him on the campaign trail. We’ll call them “Donny and the Xenophobes.” There’ll be lots of percussion, especially the clashing of cymbals. The brass section will be all wind and no wood. Pace yourselves, readers, because I’m just getting started.

Bill Clinton will have a band called William Jefferson Airplane. It will perform only on airport tarmacs. When someone he wants to influence is landing, he’ll play a few bars of “Hail to the Chief” on his sax. It will of course be a swing band.

The New Jersey Governor (and potential Trump running mate) will tour with his own group: the New Christie Mouthfuls. He’ll delight constituents at fundraisers with his own rendition of “Green, Green” (on the far side of the bridge) and “This Land Is Trump’s Land.”

The Massachusetts Senator who is a potential Clinton running mate will also have her own ensemble: Lizzy W and Her Brass Balls. She’ll be the closing act for Donny and the Xenophobes, and the opening act for Hillary. This is their fight song.

Speaking of the presumptive Democratic nominee, she’ll excite voters with her HillBilly Rockers. Her husband will join them (when he’s not on a tarmac somewhere), and they’re going to beat Trump like a drum. Hill expects to peel off some of the Southern vote with this down-to-earth group. She might even perform in a leather pantsuit.

Bernie and the Pacemakers will tour as a cover band for the Grateful-I’m-Not Dead, right up until the Democratic convention later this month. Oh, you think I’m being cruel on this one? Google “Gerry and the Pacemakers,” a group from Liverpool that was popular in the ‘60’s. Then take the Ferry Cross the Mersey, but Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying.

Another potential Trump running mate will be found on the campaign trail performing as Eye of the Newt (and Tongue of the Toady). He’ll frequently be double billed with Sarah P and the Ditzes. But you’ll never find them in the same place as John and the Thunesmiths. His a cappella quartet will play mostly John Tesh songs. Then there’s “dark horse” Mike Pence, Governor of Indiana. He’s still working on getting his musicians together.

Let’s not forget Alabama Senator Jeff Sessions and Tennessee Senator Bob Corker, both also on Trump’s short list for VP. I’m forever getting the two of them confused; all those Southern states look alike to me. With a full name like Jefferson Beauregard, Sessions should have a banjo in his hand. And Corker, well, let’s give him a harmonica. I hope they team up and tour together, doing the dueling theme from Deliverance.

Meanwhile, another potential Clinton running mate will be seen here and there under the name Kaine and the Virginia Revival. I have absolutely no idea what type of music he’ll play, but with a first name Tim, I wouldn’t expect acid rock.

Surrogates for the presumptive Democratic nominee will have their own ensembles. Barack’s Rolling Stoners will appear at rallies just about everywhere, with the Supremes as his backup. Meanwhile, Biden’s Wanderers will hit the state fair circuit in the rust belt. They’ll play whatever the crowd requests, as long as it was written before 1970.

Republicans that are still hoping for a convention miracle will make rare appearances in places that aren’t Ohio. You might catch Jeb and the Family Bush in Florida, or Mitt Romney and the Heartbreakers in New England. Paul Ryan and the Raiders will be seen only rarely and only in DC. And probably only around midnight.

There you have it. The groups you can expect to find on the campaign trail from now until November. Somewhere in this list must be one that will be music to your ears.