One Baby Boomer humorist desperately trying to turn back the clock through parody, satire, & anything else you want.
Jimothy, a raccoon with a spinal condition, has become an internet phenomenon and now a national celebrity. He’s even selling t-shirts.
Hey, I also have a spinal condition.
Why can’t I be selling some merch too?
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Did you ever start watching a movie - streaming, cable, or even broadcast TV- and think:
“This movie doesn’t exactly suck, but it’s not great. But I do want to see how it comes out. Lemme check and see how much longer it is.”
And you check to see how much longer it is, and you discover:
“Oh crap, another hour. Well, I guess I can stick it out, and maybe it gets better.”
But it doesn’t get any better. And even though it’s becoming kind of a chore to stay with it, you feel invested in it. Turning it off would be like ghosting it.
And you watch on and on and on. Time is ticking. Even more than that, time is Tiktoking.
You check again for how much time is left.
“OMG! It’s now one hour and 25 minutes! How can that be?! Are they shooting more of it even as they’re broadcasting it?”
The movie continues to unspool. The sun sets and rises again. Ben Affleck looks notably older than he did in the earlier scenes.
“I cannot stand it any longer! I have the rest of my life to live!”
You click on Wikipedia to the description of the film to discern the ending. Yes, good ol’ Wikipedia always includes a complete plot summary in its movie writeups
“We’re sorry. Even we couldn’t make it to the end. If there ever is one.”
Okay, it’s a bitter pill.
But guess I’m gonna have to read the book.
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To: All of You Across this Great Land of Ours
From : Your Uncle Sam
Date: July 3, 2026
_________________________________
Today I must make the bittersweet announcement that I - your Uncle Sam - after serving for 250 years as the national symbol for the United States of America - am retiring effective July 5, 2026 at 12:05 AM Pacific Time.
This date and time has been carefully selected to fall after the last July 4 fireworks are over but probably not before your dog is finished hiding under the bed.
Oh, it’s been a great ride!
I’ve been through a lot with you over these 250 years: the War of 1812, the Civil War, Two World Wars, the McCarthy Hearings, and Chevy Chase getting his own talk show.
As your Uncle Sam, I have marched in small town parades in all 50 states, hung with the Inflatable Tube Man at endless Used Car Lot openings (BTW, he is one good hang!) and sung “This Land is Your Land, This Land is My Land” with Elmo.
Great stuff, but I’m pooped.
Yet with it all, it has been an incredible privilege to represent all of you throughout the generations, now Gen Z and Gen Alpha all the way back to Gen William Henry Harrison, which was kind of a short one.
You know, being the symbol of a great nation has had its challenges, as most of the other symbols have also discovered.
Betsy, aka “Old Glory,” really took it hard after Trump hugged her in 2019 and again in 2020. I tried my best to cheer her up but it took six months of professional counseling - and fumigation - to put Betsy back up on her flagpole where she belongs.
And in Philly the Liberty Bell went through a similar rough patch when Gritty insisted on a series of punishing selfies with him. I’m surprised that didn’t cause him to crack even further.
As for me, you may recall that some years ago I was in a well-publicized relationship, sort of like Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce, with Lady Liberty. And, well … okay, okay … she did dump me.
What are you gonna do? French chicks! Am I right?
But I have loved being your Uncle Sam. And I will miss you all!
What’s next for me?
Hitting a beach in the Bahamas with a pina colona in one hand, trashy beach novel in the other, and a David Letterman style beard growing upwards of both.
And golf. Lots and lots of golf!
Last time I played was with General Eisenhower in 1957.
Looking forward to hitting the links with Elmo next Tuesday.
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“Perry? Perry Block?”
“Who’s that?”
“It’s me, your favorite President, Donald J. Trump.”
“Yes, Trump?”
“You can call me ‘Donald.’”
“Yes, Trump?”
“I notice you subscribe to a lot of subversive, crazy, lunatic far-left commentators on Substack.”
“That’s impressive.”
“How’s that?”
“That you know a three-syllable word like subversive and a four-syllable word like commentator.”
“Do you read all those lunatic left-wing nut jobs?”
“Nah. I barely have time for that.”
“Why don’t you unsubscribe from them?”
“Because I’m afraid that if I unsubscribe from even one of them somewhere, sometime, somehow... you might be smiling.”
“Why don’t you try it?”
“Okay, Trump. Right now I’m unsubscribing from Robert Reich, Paul Krugman, Jim Acosta, The Contrarian, Joyce Vance, J Street, IfNotNow, Heather Cox Richardson, Zeteo, The Intercept, Mehdi Hasan, Brad Lander, The New Republic, the ACLU, the Delco Democrats, Gabby Giffords, Haaretz, The New York Times, AOC, Jon Ossoff, Andy Borowitz, and any number of less famous people on Substack, Facebook, and Instagram who despise you as much as I do.”
“Don’t you want to know if I’m smiling now?”
“No. Because no matter what you answer, you’ll be lying. Just like you do about everything else.”
“Okay, but I am smiling!”
“Why is that?”
“Because I got you to unsubscribe from all those nut jobs! Ha, ha, ha!”
“No, you didn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s not even half of them.”
“What?!!”
“And the other half? I read every fucking last word and act accordingly.”
“Now I am frowning.”
“Good. Just like you’ll be frowning when you’re in jail, Trump... where you belong.”
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