by Burt Prelutsky

If you want to Comment directly to Burt Prelutsky, please mention my name Rudy.

I can understand people on the Left and those on the Right disagreeing on the issues, although I believe that the former are always wrong – intellectually as well as morally – on all of them. Still, I can understand how it came to pass. After all, if the only history you know is the stuff drummed into your head by anti-American Marxist professors, and the only sources for your understanding of current events comes to you via the morons employed by CNN, MSNBC and the NY Times, it figures you’d be at a loss debating with a 12-year-old who’d been home-schooled by conservative parents.

But something I’ve never been able to figure out is how it is that so many liberals are enamored of tyrants like Stalin, Mao, Castro, Che and Chavez. How intentionally blind to the facts does a person have to be to judge these creeps by their words rather than by their bloody deeds?

At the same time, how is it they have come to grant sainthood to women as vile and despicable as Jane Fonda and liar-Hillary Clinton?

It is obviously difficult for a sighted person to imagine the world in which a blind person exists. But I’d venture that would be easier than trying to imagine the world as seen by those who idolize monsters and hypocrites.

On a related matter, I have never understood why my fellow Jews seemed to believe that FDR walked or, perhaps more appropriately, rolled on water. Did they intentionally ignore the fact that he wouldn’t allow the S.S. Saint Louis to dock and unload its Jewish passengers, instead forcing the ship to turn around and sail back to Europe and Nazi concentration camps. I suppose it was because Roosevelt was such an unapologetic socialist, they were willing to overlook his multitude of sins.

* I am nearly as tired of the so-called Dreamers as I am of those in Congress who pretend that the plight of Hispanics who have no right to be here should be prioritized over the concerns of American citizens.

If I had a say in the matter, I would suggest to those who incessantly insist that President Trump and Congress cater to their demands that they should volunteer for the Peace Corps and ask to be assigned to help improve living conditions in the countries of their birth. It would be so much more meaningful than merely waving the flags of those third world nations at their mini-riots, while simultaneously bemoaning the possibility of being deported to those various shitholes.

* Someone forwarded me a list of truisms: “A racist is someone who wins an argument with a liberal.” “The liar-nObamas: eight years, three accomplishments: they made school lunches inedible, health insurance unaffordable and policemen’s lives expendable.” “So, you’re telling me I should be upset about deporting 30-year-old “children,” but not about aborting babies.”

* In a rumored exchange between a taxpayer and the IRS, the man had his return sent back with a curt note informing him that he’d answered one of the questions incorrectly.

It seems that in response to “Have you any dependents?” he’d replied: “Yes, I have 11 million illegal aliens, 1.1 million crackheads, 4.4 million unemployed scroungers, over a million criminals in prison and several thousand politicians, bureaucrats and federal agents, residing in Washington, D.C.”

By return mail, he quite reasonably asked: “What was my mistake? Did I leave someone out?”

* One of my readers sent me an email that began: “For years, when sex scenes would appear on the movie screen, I would point out to my wife that they usually depicted the woman as the aggressor. They would show her shoving the man up against the wall or mounting the man on a bed or in the back of a car.”

He went on: “Does this represent Hollywood men’s fantasies or real-world behavior of women? Or is it some sort of sick projection that men in a position to harass women wish to portray women as the sexual aggressors?”

I couldn’t actually answer his questions, partly because I see so few movies these days that I’m not qualified to comment.

I am aware, though, that Cary Grant was regarded as so handsome and so charming that his female co-stars were usually called upon to seduce him. It was felt that he had such a huge advantage when it came to the battle of the sexes that it was necessary to make it a fair fight by making him the pursuee rather than the pursuer.

I don’t see any actors around these days who would require having one arm tied behind their back, so to speak, in order to even up the odds.

* Joe Neuner of Olathe, Kansas, has sent along yet another joke. I think he’s angling for a byline. If he keeps it up, he just might get it.

“A friend of mine,” Joe writes, “has two tickets to Sunday’s Super Bowl game. He paid $2,500 for each ticket, which includes transportation to and from the airport, dinner and a $400 bar tab. What he hadn’t realized when he bought the tickets last year was that the game would take place the same day as his wedding. He is now looking for someone to take his place.

“It’s at St. Paul’s Church at 3 p.m. Her name is Ashley. She’s 5-foot-4, weighs 115, is a good cook, loves to fish and hunt, and will wash your truck. She’ll be the one in the white dress.”

* I no longer take the L.A. Times, but my next-door Armenian neighbor, knowing I like to do the Sunday crossword puzzle, leaves the paper on my car. This past Sunday, before trying to figure out that James Garfield was one of three men to be president in 1881, I checked the best seller list and discovered that Michael Wolff’s collection of rumors and lies about Donald Trump, “Fire and Fury,” was sitting atop the non-fiction list.

That’s all it took to ruin my day. How is it that so many people, including, I’m wagering, several of my beloved fans, have run out to buy his swill, but have totally ignored my swill?

It was bad enough that I was never able to sell more than a few hundred copies of my books about politics or my collections of interviews. But I was absolutely certain that when I wrote “The Story of My Life,” filling its pages with reminisces of my amusing encounters or friendships with the likes of Groucho Marx, Oscar Levant, George Kennedy, Spiro Agnew, Ginger Rogers, Billy Wilder, Orson Bean, William Peter Blatty, Stan Laurel, Jack Webb, Burt Reynolds, Lizabeth Scott, Gene Kelly and Sonny Tufts, I wouldn’t live to see the day I’d be out-sold by a weasel writing a book about a man he never even met.

What I don’t get is how it is that so many of you have managed to overcome your natural inclination to purchase and read “The Story of My Life.”

I guess I never fully realized how much will power you folks possess when you really put your mind to something.

If you want to Comment directly to Burt Prelutsky, please mention my name Rudy. 


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