by Burt Pretulsky

Whenever I take our dog Angel for a walk, I find myself wondering how differently we would report the event. I would mention what I had seen: the neighbors I had spotted, the Christmas decorations that were still lit up, the trash barrels that were still at the curb three days after trash collection.

But how much more interesting would be the stuff that my dog had smelled. Seemingly, every bush, every tree, every single blade of grass, contained elements of a 19th century Russian novel. What I have casually dismissed as doggy pee-mail contains truths and mysteries that clearly engage and enthrall her doggy brain.

At times, I find myself suspecting that when liberals consider the state of the world, they, too, perceive it through their noses. How else to explain loose lips-Joe Biden’s boasting that there wasn’t even the hint of scandal during the liar-nObama/loose lips-Biden administration?

I realize that loose lips-Biden’s no young whippersnapper — even though, through hair transplants, sunlamps and dental whitening, he tries to pass himself off as a fifty-something — but has he so quickly forgotten Solyndra; Operation Fast & Furious; Benghazi; the V.A. scandal; Uranium One; liar-nObama’s promises about people getting to keep their doctors and their insurance policies under the Affordable Care Act; liar-Hillary Clinton’s private server; the Iran deal; the Syrian line in the sand and liar-nObama’s illegally granting immunity to 700,000 so-called Dreamers?

Perhaps when the folks were transplanting loose lips-Biden’s hair, they didn’t stop with his follicles, but transplanted his entire brain, replacing it with that of a jackass.

But it’s not only left-wing politicians who have heads for no other reason than to have a place to plant their hats. Take Rosie O’Donnell who took to social media to offer both Sen. RINO-Jeff Flake and Sen. RINO-Susan Collins two million dollar bribes if they would only vote against Trump’s tax bill, or Bette Midler, who called for a “patriot” at the IRS to release Donald Trump’s tax returns.

Offering a politician money in exchange for his vote is illegal. Calling for a federal employee to release someone else’s tax return is merely immoral; however, if an IRS agent did as Ms. Midler requested, he would be in violation of federal law.

The most disheartening thing about all this is that someone as stupid, arrogant and untalented, as Rosie O’Donnell, might actually have a spare four million dollars just lying around.

* It seems that even Pope Francis has joined President Trump in tweeting his objections to Fake News. The Pope has condemned the media for lying, bias and sensationalizing the news, deeming it sinful.

For once, I agree with His Holiness. Those who nullify or bastardize the First Amendment for their own partisan reasons, and then wrap themselves up in its warm embrace, should be treated the way the moneychangers were treated in the good old days.

* Those who defend the Uranium One deal insist that liar-Hillary Clinton wasn’t turning over a sizable portion of our uranium deposits to Russia. It’s true that it didn’t go directly to Putin and his band of merry oligarchs; it went through a Canadian company who acted as a middleman on the deal. But that still doesn’t explain why we’d want to hand our uranium over to Canada. What has Canada done for us lately? Heck, we can’t even count on their vote at the U.N. The best I can say for them is that they didn’t take advantage of liar-nObama’s spinelessness to invade Michigan.

* The other day, when coming off a freeway off-ramp, there was a white- haired beggar holding a sign that read “Help a Grandfather.” Being a grandfather, I found myself picturing myself in that situation. But I immediately found myself wondering if that was his most important identification, and not the usual Help a Viet Vet scam, how was it that his kids and his grandkids disliked him so much that they would let him stand around begging at an off-ramp. I would have suggested that he alter his alleged status to that of military veteran, but the light changed before I had a chance to do my daily good deed.

* In case you think the world is improving, perhaps it’s because you’ve been temporarily blinded by holiday cheer. I’m here to report that there are people in three states — California, Illinois and Florida — all vying for the remains of Charles Manson. Many of them were his pen pals, and claim he left his remains to them in his will.

Frankly, I’d love to see the ghouls fight it out in court with Satan, who would argue with some justification that being in legal possession of Manson’s eternal soul automatically grants him clear ownership of all his residual parts.

* Speaking of people named Charlie reminds me that one of the things for which I am grateful is that during 2017, I never once heard a word about Charlie Sheen or Paris Hilton. I know that’s not much, but if you can’t be grateful for small favors, the chances are you won’t be grateful for large ones.

* As most of you know by now, I have made my computer a link and video-free zone. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you sending me jokes, cartoons and the occasional list. Someone who understood my rules sent me a list of what little kids think love means.

According to Elaine, aged five, “Love is when Mommy gives Daddy the best piece of chicken.”

Bobby, 7, is pretty sure it’s love “When a girl puts on perfume and a boy puts on shaving cologne and they go out and smell each other.”

Tommy, 6, believes it’s the real thing “When a little old woman and a little old man are still friends even after they know each other so well.”

Karen, 7, insists it’s love when your eyelashes go up and down and little stars come out of you.”

“Love,” according to Mary Ann, 4, “is when your puppy licks your face even after you left him all alone all day.”

On the other hand, Bobby, 7, claims: “Love is what’s in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and just listen.”

Of course, I can’t guarantee that the quotes attributed to the tots weren’t made up by people my age, but most people my age are either dead, senile or out playing golf.

* Happy 2018, everybody. Here’s wishing you all the best, including puppy kisses and having little stars shooting out of you.

Burt loves emailed feedback and jokes, but cannot accept attachments.

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