Peter Trump-ets Toronto’s Live Music and the Folks Who Make it Happen

Well Trumpelthinskin sure went off his script at last weekend’s well publicized 1% group grope. He went well off his message, well off on a tangent,; (well off his rocker?) His word salad of an address would probably have sounded better if his “speech writers” had taken an Oxford Dictionary, put it through a shredder, stuffed the resultant paper “scrap” into a muzzle loading cannon and promptly fired it at a wall covered with paper glue and begged him to read the result! America, I weep for you. You have “elected” a grifter, a cheat, a conman, a nepotistic thief who would gladly sell off everything that makes America great for 5 cents on the dollar, if it would fill his pockets and those of his dreadful family.

Darrell Vickers – I’ve Seen You’re Fired and I’ve Seen Rain

On balance, being a comedy writer is about as exciting as picking out a good denture cream for your great aunt at the local Albertsons. It consists of countless hours spent sitting alone in a room (much like we all did at our senior prom) and staring at a screen as white as Edgar Winter’s ass. No adoring crowds erupt into deafening acts of rhapsodic approbation, when we triumphantly tap out, “The End” on well-worn keyboards.