Robot Jazz

  [The following is satire. Blame a rainy day, an irresponsible amount of gin, and a stack of WARNO screenshots begging to be misused. What follows is a chowderpot of farce, presented without a wink to realism. You’ve been warned.] Day 1 Today, the Trump administration announced a "1000% tariff" on all Soviet products sent to the US. At a press conference, President Trump said, "I love Yuri...I call him 'Yuri'. Not many people get to call him that. I love...uh, Yuri...but we can't have Russia taking advantage of Americans by dumping their vodka on our shores. We love their vodka, but we can’t let them cheat. Nobody cheats America except me — legally, legally."  The Soviet Ambassador, Ivan Ivanovich, released a terse statement that "The Soviet Union will not be abused by America, nor its NATO allies.  We will be forced to act." Andropov reportedly told aides, "I survived kidney failure, the KGB, and Brezhnev’s funeral circuit. I will surviv...

Ouch. That is all I can say. "Ouch!" Why? Because I hurt my back! Now, if I had hurt my back doing something reckless, say,  like doing handstands after having a triple-martini lunch, it would be an easier injury to bear as there would be a clear reason for it. However, in reality, I hurt my back by...putting on a sock!  A sock! Don't ask me how! I wasn't doing anything I hadn't done a thousand times before. And before you ask, no, I don't have a history of back pain or back injuries. In fact, I felt just great the day it happened! Ironically, I was getting ready to hit the free weights again, a long-practiced routine in which I deadlift up to 100 pounds.  Yeah, I have a strong back. Dr. Copilot informs me that such an injury is common in "middle-aged men", so...yeah.  No reason, other than I am slowly decaying, I guess. Be that as it may, today is the first day when I feel I can sit up and do a little writing to catch up on our depressing days. This...