Matthew Taylor

In sports why does no one die during sudden death?

Donald Trump’s rise to mega fame and stardom, launched not by bankrupt ventures and tablodic divorces, but also with the popularity of his hit shows “The Apprentice” and “Celebrity Apprentice” has fueled the demand for a Donald Trump Action Figure to epic proportions. Doll maker, Wee The People of Oakdale, California, has taken on the challenge.  And the market is primed.

 ”I’ve never thought of Donald Trump as an action figure before because, he, uh, never did anything,” says a young Tommy Nagle of White Plains, New York, echoing a common sentiment among the doll’s demographic of 6-10 year olds, “but now I can’t wait to fire the rest of my toys!”

Unfortunately for the Tommy Nagles of the world, they will have to wait.  There has been a massive delay in the production of these highly sought after toys at the WTP plant that is set to manufacture the Trump figure.  Even after countless attempts, the designers of the dolls have been unable to create hair that is sufficiently unrealistic.  Even the idea that it is physically possible to replicate Trump’s hair in doll form is being called in to question by Brady Tomlinson head of Research and Development at Wee the People.

“All of our attempts have resulted in hair that appears far too life like to be believable. It has confounded all of our follicle specialists, we even had one of our senior hair consultants demand to be transferred to the division working on an action figure version of George W Bush’s dog, Barney after being continually frustrated by the Trump coiffure.  If it is in fact living, we can find no evidence to prove it. His hair is unquantifiable.”

The folks in the marketing department at Wee The People are taking another approach to speed things along by developing a sticker that could be placed on each doll saying, “Hair may appear more realistic than it actually is.”

When, exactly, the doll will go the market is unclear at this juncture.  Brad Pennington CEO of WTP released a statement stating, “Perhaps at this point it would be more cost effective to pay Mr. Trump to wear a hat…hat’s are easy.”

I don’t know anybody who uses their swamp cooler to cool a swamp.

I have a friend who readily admits to occasionally spacing out while driving in the fast lane and travelling at 50mph. When the frustrated driver who behind her blares his horn, she just imagines he is saying to her, “Hi there, excuse me, sorry to bother you, could you please move over so I can scoot on by. Thank you. Have a great day.”

She then waves and cheerily moves over.

If everybody thought like this it would be the end of road rage.

Lily’s Beauty Salon tries hard to keeps all of the beauty inside the salon.

I love to give flowers.  But in order to do so I have to kill them.

I am glad I don’t enjoy giving puppies.

Paul sits on my patio; the late afternoon sun weaves its way through the trumpet vine.  A shaft of light hits the glass held in his right hand making the frozen margarita sparkle with temptation. He raises it to his lips, takes a refreshing sip, slowly lowers it and continues his boast.

“It even says in the instructions that the plastic plug you have to punch out during installation can be left in the disposal.  It will be ground into nothingness when the beast is first unleashed.”

I surmise that he has not purchased your average household waste deposal. It sounds as if under his kitchen sink he has installed the wood chipper from the movie Fargo.

I find myself becoming strangely envious.

He continues excitedly, “It’s one full horse power, this thing is a monster.”

When asked, “What are you going to christen your new disposal with?” He simply replied between confident gulps of margarita, “Lumber!”

After Paul left I pick up the empty glasses and wonder back into my kitchen feeling a distinct sense of inadequacy in the, “under the kitchen sink department”.

A few years ago I had upgraded my disposal from a Badger II to a Badger V, but knew in my heart of hearts it would still fall way short in the all important horse power category.  I placed the empty margarita glasses on the kitchen counter and paused. However painful the reality might be, I had to know.

Slowly I lowered myself to my knees and opened the cabinet door. I peered into the cluttered stable,  allowed my eyes to adjust to the darkness and then searched for my answer.

There printed clearly on the side of my Badger V for all to see was, ½ a Shetland Pony Power.

How can I take reality television seriously if the shows are edited?

And if it’s real, why has nobody ever died on Survivor?

This morning I looked across at their house and an empty feeling filled my stomach. It’s not as if we spent a lot of time with them but they were always there. I knew them, I liked them, and I trusted them. Consistency maybe dull sometimes, but it sure is comforting.

I hope the spokesman for BP whose duties includes apologies, is hoarse.