Tag Archives: Alexandra Petri

A Change of Pace

Posted on by under Election 2024, Humour, Political commentary, Social commentary

Since my morning post was on a rather dark topic, I thought I’d lighten up a bit this afternoon.  Alexandra Petri is a humourist/satirist who writes a column for The Washington Post.  In 2010 she became the youngest person to have a column in the Post.  Her latest column brought me some chuckles and I’m hoping you’ll find some too!

Trump accepts election results, outraging his base

By Alexandra Petri

24 January 2024

Somewhere, Rudy Giuliani is sobbing, sinking deeper and deeper into a puddle of tears and hair dye. A shadow crosses the face of Sidney Powell. A primary election happened, and Donald Trump just accepted it. As though tallying who got more votes in an election could possibly be used to determine who had won it. As though he were going to just participate in democracy now, as though nothing had happened.

Yes, Donald Trump got the results of an election and accepted them without a murmur. Indeed, he boasted about them. His supporters thronged X to tell the person with fewer votes that she had lost. As though winning fewer votes in an election were anything but an incentive to keep calling that election into question for years to come and making life hell for the election workers. As though you could tell whom people really wanted based on whom they cast their votes for. As though votes meant anything!

Supporters tried to puzzle out what had changed. What made this election different from the presidential election? Was it that it was in New Hampshire? No, that can’t be. New Hampshire went for Joe Biden in 2020. Trump won, yes, but that couldn’t be it, could it? It couldn’t be that he just was saying all those things before because he didn’t win, could it?

“Maybe this is going to start a wonderful trend of Donald Trump accepting election results,” one nonpartisan expert suggested timidly. “You start small, accepting a caucus result — barely enough votes to fill a stadium — and then you accept a New Hampshire primary, and, bang, before you know it, you’re accepting the results of all kinds of elections. The real trick, as I see it, will be getting him to accept the results of an election that he doesn’t win, so we can let the election workers come out of hiding and go about their lives normally without fear.

“It will be so wonderful to have him acting like a normal candidate rather than a would-be authoritarian who won’t take no for an answer! I hope this means he’s willing to just take part in the democratic process,” the expert went on, but at the word “democratic” everyone hissed angrily, and he had to leave the state.

Certain Trump supporters expressed deep despair as they watched their candidate’s bizarrely uncritical reaction to the vote. “If I wanted to live in a democracy,” grumbled one as he repeatedly failed to strike a match on his khakis to light a torch, “I wouldn’t be so adamantly pro-Trump.”

“I’m in this because I hate my local election officials,” someone else observed, stomping on a discarded Trump sign. “I want them to be afraid all of the time, not just if Donald Trump loses.”

“We don’t want to run the risk of living in a country where a majority of people can tell us what to do,” another supporter confirmed. “We should not be celebrating this. This just makes them think we agree with the premise. What’s next, accepting the peaceful transfer of power?”

Who Knew The Job Came With Perks?

Posted on by under education, Humour, Law and justice, Political commentary

I don’t know about you guys, but I really feel a strong need for a laugh right about now.  Alexandra Petri of The Washington Post, has a unique way with satire and can most always bring a chuckle or three.  She once said of her writing, “My goal is to be weirder than everybody else and hope that no one stops me. So far no one has.”  I hope she brings you a bit of humour today …

The Supreme Court justice lifestyle is for me!

By Alexandra Petri

11 August 2023

I did not used to think I wanted to be a Supreme Court justice. First, it sounded as though you needed to know a lot of law, which sounded time-consuming. That required probably years of your life and taking a class called Torts, which would sadden me because every day I would hope that cake would be involved and every day it would not be. Also, you would have to pass the bar exam. And then for the rest of your career, you would have to carry around several leather-bound books in case you forgot what the law was. So much for law school. The process of getting on the court sounded … not exactly optimal. Any time you have to sit and hear Lindsey Graham’s opinion about whether you should get to do a job before you get to do that job, you start to question things.

Even the power seemed limited at best. If you got into the legal business because your passion was yanking rights out from under people, like rugs, you could not simply do it willy-nilly. You had to wait around for a case to arise, involving actual people, before you could weigh in. You could not simply have someone invent made-up people who wanted a website and rule on that hypothetical. (At least, you used to not be able to.)

Also, you had to work in D.C., a city where the weather was bad in some way all of the time except for a few weeks when the National Mall was overrun with tourists. You could not just go golfing whenever you wanted; nor could you enjoy prime, unparalleled views of Jackson Hole, world-class fishing and dining, or unfettered access to a private jet.

Granted, the job had some upsides. You got to wear a robe to work, which gave everything a fun, spa-like atmosphere, and underneath that robe you could wear whatever you wanted. And you got to make the law of the land and, occasionally, decide things like who got to be president and who could have control of their wombs seized by the state. (These were not the same people.) You also got to make decisions that, ultimately, would determine a huge amount of the dialogue on “Law & Order.”

But I see now that I was wrong to rule out this career. I believe the amount of law you need to know was greatly exaggerated. Supreme Court justice is the lifestyle for me. ProPublica, which, as I understand it, is a publication dedicated entirely to concocting ludicrous fantasy vacations I would never have imagined in my wildest dreams and then revealing that Justice Clarence Thomas has been on them (among other perks), has just revealed even more luxury vacations that Thomas has taken, with the assurance that this is “almost certainly an undercount” of the luxurious, undisclosed travel he has received. Now that is a disclaimer! (Most Supreme Court justices take only one or two vacations per year. Vacations Thomas, who takes 3,800 annually, is an outlier and should not have been counted.)

I did not know about all the perks! I did not know you got assigned a personal billionaire (or several) and got to live the lifestyle of one of America’s wealthier car dealers. I did not know you would not only get to travel with them, be serenaded with their custom you-inspired songs (is this a perk?) and get to visit their humble, rustic lodges but also get to travel without them, in their planes. Nor did I realize that the benefits would not stop there!

Exclusive golf club access! Sports tickets in fancy boxes! All the football you can eat! RVs! Yachts! Helicopters! It’s a miracle the justices manage to take any rights away from anyone! They are always off on vacation somewhere, on someone else’s dime — indeed, I would not call this living on someone else’s dime. There is no way a dime covers all this!

I am going to rethink my life! I thought if you wanted your reality to be jetting from beach to beach and experiencing prime seats at concerts and sporting events, you had to be born a Kardashian or some sort of minor oil baron. I thought you could not also have a day job in D.C. where you got to work in a nice marble building and tell people whether things are legal or not and whether they can be president, or alive.

I thought if I wanted to ride in helicopters and play golf in exclusive venues, I would have to give up my dream of unlimited power over other people’s lives. But now I see I was wrong. I was also wrong about needing to know all those laws and precedents! Anyway, I would like to be a Supreme Court justice now. My only complaint for the current justices, until I can join them, is that if you are going to take all these vacations at the behest of billionaires, I wish you would not also come back from those vacations and take my rights away. Just stay on vacation, I say.

The Future Of Teaching U.S. History???

Posted on by under Bits 'n Pieces, Black History Month, education, History, Humour, Political commentary, Racism & Bigotry, Social commentary

Alexandra Petri is a satirical columnist for The Washington Post.  This week, she opines on the re-writing of history to suit the racists in Florida, led by none other than Governor DeSantis, and it is both appalling and yet at the same time humorous.  Remember, this is tongue-in-cheek, satire … until it becomes reality.

Excerpts from a civics textbook I assume would be welcome in Florida

By Alexandra Petri

20 March 2023

“Rosa Parks showed courage. One day, she rode the bus. She was told to move to a different seat because of the color of her skin. She did not. She did what she believed was right.”

“Rosa Parks showed courage. One day, she rode the bus. She was told to move to a different seat. She did not. She did what she believed was right.”

— Two versions of a first-grade lesson from Studies Weekly, a publisher whose social studies curriculums are currently used in Florida elementary schools. Studies Weekly revised the lesson more than once, omitting any mention of racism or segregation, to submit for a state review of social studies materials.

American history is full of many heroes, whose accomplishments we will have no problem telling you about in the state of Florida! They fought for justice, which was brave of them, if a little redundant, because there was no specific injustice to fight against. Here are just a few of their stories!

Harriet Tubman is considered an inspiring figure by many because she made many trips on foot, often with other people. She specifically led trips from the South to the North, often at night. At night, you can see the stars! It is great to lead trips. She was a hero.

Frederick Douglass was famous, too! We celebrated him during the Trump administration for being someone “who’s done an amazing job” and whose contributions are still being “recognized more and more.” He also gave a noteworthy speech about the Fourth of July. Who doesn’t love the Fourth of July?

John Brown is regarded by some as a heroic figure. Famously, he went to what is now West Virginia (Wild and Wonderful!). He also grew a luxurious beard. Once, he was very excited to visit a weapons arsenal. We support West Virginia tourism!

Abraham Lincoln was a tall man who did something that was a very important thing to do, and especially at that time. He was president during the Civil War, which was fought from 1861 to 1865 between a group of people whom it was universally agreed would make wonderful, handsome statues and some other people who may have had reasons. He even made a proclamation, probably unnecessarily! He famously went to the same play as John Wilkes Booth, a very talented actor who also loved to exercise his Second Amendment rights! It is nice when actors support the Second Amendment. Too often, woke Hollywood doesn’t.

Elizabeth Cady Stanton and some of her friends went to Seneca Falls, N.Y., and had a conference there. At the conference, she talked about things related to ladies. Seneca Falls is a nice place to visit, especially in the summer!

Jonas Salk was a famous doctor. He invented a vaccine against polio, which was good because it made not being vaccinated against polio a choice, which it had not been before. Giving people choices is wonderful!

Rosa Parks was asked to move to a different seat, but she didn’t. People who sit are heroes! For instance, Thurgood Marshall famously sat on a bench. He was a hero, too.

Ruth Bader Ginsburg was born on March 15, 1933. She spent 71 years of her life on the planet at the same time as Ronald Reagan! This was a big achievement. She also famously sat on a bench. We love it when people sit!

The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream and told people about it! King made some people upset, probably because it is annoying when people recount their dreams to you at length, but possibly for other reasons. He is no longer with us, but he is still celebrated today because his works provided so many out-of-context quotations for White people to use to explain why it is not important to fight racism any more. (Which was never important to do, because it did not exist.)

John Lewis was a hero! He famously marched across a bridge. This upset some people. People have strong feelings about infrastructure. Have you ever walked across a bridge? He was such a hero that they named a whole road after him and then some people wanted to rename a little piece of it after Donald Trump!

The Little Rock Nine went to school! Some people did not want them to go to school, and there were protests and guards were called in. It is sad: Even today, some people just don’t want other people to learn! They went anyway. It is good to go to school, where you can learn so much about history!

A Chuckle For The Day

Posted on by under education, History, Humour, Political commentary, Racism & Bigotry, Social commentary

I thought a bit of timely humour would be good today.  Alexandra Petri is a Washington Post columnist offering a lighter take on the news and opinions of the day.  While there isn’t much to laugh about in the news these days, sometimes I think we need to laugh anyway … or at least chuckle.

‘Let’s ban algebra, too!’ adds Fla. legislator who is clearly not three kids in a trench coat

By Alexandra Petri

Columnist

TALLAHASSEE — Florida legislators are working hard to pass a bill that, as the Associated Press observed, would “prohibit public schools and private businesses from making white people feel ‘discomfort’ when they teach students or train employees about discrimination in the nation’s past.”

“This is good,” added one legislator, in a trench coat and hat, whose voice sounded somewhat muffled, as though it came from around his rib cage. “But it doesn’t go far enough.” His whole body swayed and undulated strangely.

“Yes!” his head added. “It is good, but we need to pass more laws.”

“More?” one of his colleagues inquired, handing him a drink of water. He missed grabbing the water the first time and then poured it all over his face and body, and a voice from beneath his belt said, “Stop it, Jeremy!”

“History is good to ban, but it is not enough,” the legislator said, when he had composed himself. “History is actually way less discomfortable than lots of other subjects, and if we are really serious about ending discomfort, we should ban those first.”

“Go on!” his colleague said excitedly. A small crowd was beginning to form around him.

“The book bans are good,” the legislator’s midsection went on, while his hands attempted to straighten his hat but knocked it off instead. “Less reading is good. English is a big source of discomfort.”

“Yes!” one of his colleagues agreed, picking up the hat and handing it to him, which only took three tries. Several other legislators nodded aggressively. “They are trying to indoctrinate our youth with critical race theory, and we won’t let them! They want White people to learn about events that happened in the past, which causes discomfort, and we will not have it!”

“It’s not just learning about events that happened in the past that makes you feel discomfort,” the mysterious legislator in the trench coat said. “Algebra actually causes way more discomfort than history.”

“And geometry,” his rib cage added.

“And biology!” his face continued. “The law is good because it sounds like history is pretty much banned, but what about math? What about science? What about the part of science where sometimes they make you dissect a frog?”

“Or P.E.!” his midsection shouted.

“We should have clearer laws against all of those, so that people don’t feel discomfort. White people, Black people, people in general.”

“And pop quizzes,” said his head. “And French. And book reports!”

His colleagues nodded uncertainly.

“We’ve got to protect everyone from discomfort at all costs,” the legislator went on. “That’s the most important thing. That’s what people need to do right now. Make clear laws against any subject that could possibly cause discomfort.”

He produced a list that was written in pencil on a sheet of graph paper that said, “More Subjects To Ban To Preserve Freedom,” which appeared to be just a list of every subject taught in middle school, with a crudely drawn picture of Naruto in the corner.

“Thank you for this,” his colleague said. “We are going to give this the consideration it deserves.”

Another legislator looked puzzled. “But then, what will they learn?” he asked.

But the legislator in the trench coat with the good ideas had already vanished as mysteriously as he had come.

What We’ve Been Missing …

Posted on by under Election 2020, Environmental Issues, Political commentary, Social commentary

I started out seeking humour for this post. I felt a deep need for something to make me (and you) smile instead of scowl and utter some choice words.  I searched for a recent Seth Meyers, Stephen Colbert, or Don Lemon video to give us some chuckles this Sunday afternoon, but found none that made me even crack a smile.  I turned to Alexandra Petri who writes humorous, satirical columns for The Washington Post, and instead of a humorous piece, I found one that moved me, that summed up part of what I and the people in this nation have been missing for the past three-and-a-half years.

jollyI apologize for letting you down with no humour today, but take heart, for tomorrow is Jolly Monday!

Want a president who seems capable of human emotion?

Alexandra-PetriOpinion by

Alexandra Petri, Columnist

August 21, 2020 at 11:29 a.m. EDT

Remember the little things? I barely do.

Remember feelings? Remember having a president who could express a recognizable human emotion? Remember prepared remarks?

Remember when you could make plans for the future? Plans that did not include a step where “a miracle occurs”?

Remember sending emails that did not include the phrase “How are you holding up?” Remember when someone said “How are you?” and you responded “Fine!” automatically without thinking? Remember when you could delight in the sight of the lower halves of strangers’ faces? Remember when there was only one thing that was horribly broken about America that made it potentially terrifying to send your child to school?

Remember time? I barely do. The days since February have been a kind of primordial tar-slick where months melt together and hours vanish in the blink of an eye. To say this year has been not great would be a grotesque and cruel understatement, like “It is what it is.”

Everything in 2020 is so bad in enormous ways that sometimes you forget that it is also bad in small ways. But it is also bad in small ways. And on the final night of the Democratic National Convention, as Joe Biden accepted his party’s presidential nomination, I remembered.

It’s 2020, and after nearly four years of Donald Trump, the bar for what might conceivably be presidential is so low as to be lodged somewhere in the Earth’s mantle. The moles who were sent to dig it out died of pressure and fumes, and then Elon Musk sent a robot in after them, and the robot also died. So when the Democratic nominee for president said something that sounded like what a human would say to another human in a time of grief, I was actually surprised. It has been so long since I heard anything like that from the current president, or anyone around him, that I had stopped even hoping for it.

We are a nation grieving and in shock, at the point where the number of lives lost has become so big that the brain deliberately breaks rather than contemplate it. We are at the point where people have taken to waving away these preventable deaths as an inevitable fact of life, competing to see who can sacrifice the most grandparents on the pyre of a Speedy Recovery. But by denying that anything is wrong, Donald Trump’s administration also has denied that we have any need of comfort.

“I know how it feels to lose someone you love,” Biden said in his acceptance speech. “I know that deep black hole that opens up in your chest. That you feel your whole being is sucked into it. I know how mean and cruel and unfair life can be sometimes.” These are simple words.

Yet Donald Trump has never said anything like this. “He knew what he signed up for, but when it happens, it hurts anyway,” is what the grieving widow of Army Sgt. La David Johnson reportedly heard from President Trump in response to her husband’s death.

When Trump lost his brother last week, he mused, “He wasn’t a jealous person, he was a very smart guy. You know, he would be there and he’d be behind me and … if I had the No. 1 show, if I had big success, no matter what I did, even if it’s real estate deals or anything else, he was right there and in many cases helped me very much.”

“It is what it is,” he says.

To be a human being is so ordinary that we forget it is also a miracle. I hate that there is the possibility that we might have to spend four more years with a man who seems to have no idea what this small miracle is like. The first time in these past six months that we heard someone say “I know how it feels to lose someone you love” should not have been from Joe Biden’s acceptance speech.

It’s the little things. It’s the little things that break you.

A Bit Of Lighter Fare …

Posted on by under Environmental Issues, Humour, Law and justice, Political commentary, Social commentary

Of late, nothing Trump says makes any sense.  Oh wait … he never did make any sense!  But he seems to go off on tangents that are signs that his mind is deteriorating before our very eyes.  In an effort to be fair, I must admit that it is surely difficult to be in a position of so much responsibility, so many important decisions to be made, when you really haven’t the knowledge, education, or intelligence to make any of those decisions wisely.  One of his stupidest statements in the past week or two was this …

“We’re going after Virginia with your crazy governor. … They want to take your Second Amendment away. You know that right? You’ll have nobody guarding your potatoes.”

Who knew that potatoes ranked right up there with the gold at Fort Knox as being under threat and needing constant guarding … with guns!  I need a break from the dark posts that are my norm, and I suspect perhaps you do too … just a little break.  Alexandra Petri, a columnist for The Washington Post, had a bit of fun with that one.  Take a look …

I am a simple potato guardian who needs my Second Amendment rights

Alexandra-PetriBy 

Alexandra Petri 

Columnist

May 20, 2020 at 9:00 a.m. EDT

“We’re going after Virginia with your crazy governor. … They want to take your Second Amendment away. You know that right? You’ll have nobody guarding your potatoes.”

— President Trump, to farmers assembled at the White House

I am a potato guardian. This is the only life I have known. Here is my tale, one no doubt familiar to you, just as the concept of a person who guards potatoes in Virginia is familiar.

Day 1

It is a cold February day, and the new crop of potatoes is just in the ground, an average of six weeks before the last frost. I am in Virginia, the well-known home of potato farming. To guard the potato is a sacred duty, which I have studied since my days at Au Groton, a boarding school for people who aspire one day to protect potatoes. I have my weapon, and I have my training. I settle at the edge of the field with my carbine on my knees and prepare for a long spring.

Day 2

It rained today. I kept my eyes on the potatoes, just as I knew that they would be keeping their eyes on me.

I walked the perimeter of the field. This will be a good crop, if I can only keep it safe for the 75 to 135 days that potatoes require. I must keep it safe.

Day 3

As I walked today, I saw something move just at the corner of the field. But by the time I got there, it was too late. There was a footprint in the soft, slightly acidic soil. A boot, not mine. I think the potato raiders will be here soon. I think they are making their preparations. I must make mine.

Day 4

No sign of the raiders today. At midday, the farmer’s daughter brought me a glass of milk. “You looked thirsty out there,” she told me. I took it from her hands and thanked her. “And you have been sent to guard the potatoes?” she asked. I shrugged. I am a potato guardian of few words. I let my eyes speak for me. “What an interesting life,” she said. “Do you get lonely?” I told her I did not.

But the question has stayed with me. Lonely? Do I get lonely? No. I have the potatoes. And I have my Second Amendment rights. I do not need anything else.

Day 5

The farmer’s daughter brought me another glass of milk and watched me as I sipped it. I think it is too late to tell her that milk is not a good drink when you are hot in the middle of the day. I think we have gotten into a pattern now, which I regret. She is nice. She has kind eyes, like I imagine a potato would have, though she only has two, which is low for a potato.

After drinking the milk, I dozed a little, and when I awoke there were more footprints at the edge of the field. I must be more vigilant. If I do not protect the potatoes, who will?

Day 6

I planted a trap at the corner of the field where the footprints keep appearing. It was hot and tiring work, and the farmer’s daughter brought me another glass of milk. “I guess all you have is milk,” I said, in what I hoped was a pointed way, but she did not seem to understand what I was getting at. “Yes,” she said. “We have lots of milk, thank heaven.”

“Good,” I said, but I did not really think it was good.

Day 7

Last night there was a frost. I am glad the potatoes are sleeping sound and warm below a blanket of two inches of soil. I went to check the trap at the edge of the field. There was something in it, a boot. The boot was bigger than mine, but not by much. I followed the tracks as far as they went, to the edge of the woods. I should mention that there are woods here in Virginia, where I guard potatoes. That must be where the potato raiders come from.

“Did you catch him?” the farmer’s daughter asked, at midday.

“No,” I said. “But be on the lookout for someone with a very muddy sock.” I took a sip of the milk she had brought.

I bet the raider comes back tonight. You can’t get far with one boot. Not here in the potato fields of Virginia. I reset the trap and put the boot next to it. As bait.

Day 8

No movement at the trap. But there are footprints at the edge of the field. New ones, with sneaker treads. This potato raider must own multiple sets of footwear, which complicates matters a little.

I got a call from an old friend from potato guardian training. He washed out; people were always taking potatoes from under his nose, and he was a laughingstock among us. Now he works in finance. He asked if I had heard the news about the governor and what he was planning to do. I said I hadn’t, so he told me. I can’t believe the governor would come for our Second Amendment rights. No potato will be safe then. It’s monstrous.

The farmer’s daughter brought me my milk right after this conversation, but I told her in a forbidding tone that I was not thirsty.

Day 9

A small success! I spent an uneasy night after the news about the governor, tossing and turning at the edge of the field of my precious charges. Toward dawn, I saw a shadowy figure prowling at the edge of the field. I got up, and he did not see me creep toward him. I leaped at him and caught him by the leg. As we tussled, several potatoes fell out of his jacket. Jacket potatoes. He wriggled his foot free of his boot and ran away. Now I have two boots. I do not know what his footwear situation is; it seems complicated.

I was very glad to have my Second Amendment rights, although, come to think of it, I did not use my carbine at all in this encounter.

Then I woke up. I am bewildered. Was it all a dream, or did I catch a potato raider, however briefly? I went to look for the boot, but there was nothing there.

Day 10

I am still unsure what is reality and what is dream. The potatoes will slumber another two months, but I cannot rest. The farmer’s daughter did not bring me any milk today. Instead her father came out to my corner of the field and said that I had to get off his property and that there was no such thing as a potato guardian.

“Don’t be like that, Cyrus!” I said. “The president knows about me. I am for sure a real thing that exists.”

He said his name wasn’t Cyrus and I had to get away from there. I packed up my things and slung my carbine over my shoulder. I said goodbye to the potatoes and set off.

Day 11

When I was almost to the Maryland border, I received a call from Cyrus. During the night, someone took all the potatoes. Cyrus was sobbing so hard I could scarcely make out his words.

“I should not have doubted you,” he said. “You are real, and the need for you is real, and the need for protecting your Second Amendment rights is the realest of all.” I could tell that all the starch had gone out of him. “I will be sure to write to my governor at once! Please, come back, and guard the new crop.”

“I would like that, Cyrus,” I said. “But I go where the potato calls.” And I continued over the border toward another state, with a new motto. Live Frite or Die. The spuds needed me, and I could not look back.