The Touch-and-Go Asylum


This may be one of the darkest pieces I have written. Of course, in my eyes, it is a “feel good” piece! This is the kind of piece that friends would say to me, why Michele if you had not written this piece, I would tell you it was right up your alley! It has YOU written all over it!

And if you are even a little bit like me, you are waiting for the ball to drop on this, the most corrupt, corroded and craven administration in American history.

And waiting…and waiting…and waiting…and…zzzzzzzzz…

Meanwhile, we’ve got United Airlines videos to watch, and multiple Harry Styles sightings to entertain us. And I know this sounds like the absolute zenith of zero-hope-left-leaning but I am eagerly anticipating the number of passengers on United Airline flights who will deliberately provoke some kind of “mix-up” or altercation so that they too can grab their “aisle be seeing you” battered and bloodied news moment and milk it for every penny.

I can’t help but be sickly amused when cries come from all around that an asswipe like Sean Spicer should be fired. These cries are starting to sound like those echoes we get when we shout into an empty cave or canyon. Hello? Hello? Is anyone there?

If I can be brutally honest here, we deserve the douche. The citizenry of this nation elected exactly the kind of scumbag who would pick a like prick like Spicer for the job. Did anyone expect Bill Moyers?

We deserve the entire bunch of miscreants.

Now you and I may not have voted for the cretins crawling across the Potomac arterial archways like an army of encroaching cockroaches but, as the media so helpfully reminds us over and over and over again (like one of those forlorn echoes in the abyss. Hello? HELLO? IS ANYONE THERE?) we non-Trumpites must pay for our mortal sin of actually thinking that disenfranchised emphysema-enriched coal miners and gyrating Jesus-on-a-joystick jerkoffs awaiting the rupture, I mean Rapture, could benefit more from  leadership befitting  21st Century situations than Republican- replication of 20th Century Weimar folly fuck-ups.

We bad.

As soon as I locate that time machine that HG Wells left somewhere , I will alert ABC or CNN so that they can film me being dragged off it by one of Time-Warp Travels’ security shills.

I know. I know. I sound so darn cynical. I am here to tell you—I have gone so far past cynical that cynical is like the last chance Texaco in a rear mirror on the road to nowhere.

Here is how cynical I am—when the Anne Frank Center, which I greatly admire and contribute to, called out Sean Spicer’s butchering (and I use that term very deliberately) description of the actions of Nazi Germany on 6 million Jews as a failure of Holocaust education, I actually laughed.

Isn’t it just like the Anne Frank Center to give someone the benefit of the doubt?

The Michele F. Touch-and-Go Asylum, which is located between the Holocaust Center and The Killing Fields Pavilion on the newly-installed Palisades-on-the-Potomac Amusement Park in Washington DC, has a very different take.

I am sure Sean Spicer got a decent education and was raised in a family in which most members had managed to progress past the dragged-knuckled and chest-pounding state of those apes screeching over the monolith in Kubrick’s “2001.” I am sure Sean Spicer had access to books and sources of enlightenment. I am sure Sean Spicer was exposed to factual details and descriptions of World War II.

It did not matter.

There is no fucking reason why Sean Spicer or Steve Bannon or Steve Miller or Donald Trump or [insert the name of any over-privileged Trumpoholic] would mangle world history like this unless he or she deliberately wanted to. Unless he or she made the deliberate choice to turn away from truth, justice and the American way.

These people know what the real story is—but they don’t care. It does not matter to them or bother them.

They DON’T CARE. And what’s more, they could care less if it happens again. To Muslims. To Jews. To Africans. To gays. Or, dare I say it?  To emphysema-riddled coal miners. The pathetic irony and the self-negating stupidity of these people voting for men who would destroy them in a Kentucky second overwhelms me at times.

You can see how cynical I am. And I realized that I needed a broader, bigger term for the level of cynicism tempered with black humor and rage I have achieved after November 8, 2016. I think I have come up with a viable candidate.

I am “holocaustic.”

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