Joy: “Humphrey, tell me the rumor isn’t true!”
Humphrey: “I’m afraid it is. This is the smallest table to ever appear in a nightclub. I don’t know how it’s holding up my bottle of hooch. I better drink more before the table collapses.”
Joy: “Oh, I’ve already emotionally accepted the tininess and moved on. No, I’m talking about what I just overhead in the powder room.”
Humphrey: “Did it involve retching? I told Ingrid to stay away from the braised lamb. Never trust the meat in a place with baby tables.”
Joy: “You can be so exasperating, Hump. These are trying times, but for the sake of humanity we must always strive to do the right thing.”
Humphrey: “The right thing? I don’t know anything about morality. I went to a charter school, where the only thing I learned was how to take a standardized test. Still, I’m somewhat intrigued by your urgency, probably due to the high-octane rating of this low-grade moonshine. So tell me, what did you overhear in the squat station that has you and your hair in such a tizzy?”
Joy: “Well, as I was sitting there and minding my own business and wondering why some countries don’t have decent toilet paper, Ivanka Trump squatted in the stall next to me. She’s apparently in town attending a convention for over-privileged offspring who have never done anything important in their lives. Anyway, during a surprisingly gaseous episode, she had a speaking-in-tongues moment and bellowed that her father is actually the love child of Joseph Stalin and Ayn Rand. This seems like something that should be shared with the world.”
Humphrey: “Oh, the world already knows it. It’s the Americans who voted for him that refuse to see the writing on the wall. Assuming they even know how to read.”
Ingrid, wandering near the table but not actually appearing in the scene due to contractual issues: “Oh, they know how to read. They just refuse to read anything that hasn’t been approved by the Republican party. And that’s the scariest part of it all.”
Waiter, unable to get to the table because that wretched Ingrid woman was blocking his way: “Did someone order this steak tartare? It’s undercooked, it might kill you with the festering and racist bacteria, and it has no idea that decent people don’t want to eat it.”
Ivanka, finally staggering out of the loo and weakly trying to disguise another belch of privilege and ignorance: “Oh, that’s for my father. He’ll be along in a minute, once he signs out of his Twitter account and continues to not reveal the true source of the income that he doesn’t really have.”
Joy: “Why is Donald Trump coming here? This is Casablanca, not Moscow.”
Humphrey: “Well, I’m not surprised that he’s confused. The man has no idea of what’s really going on in the world.”
Ivanka: “I can have you fired for saying that.”
Joy: “Girl, you did enough firing in the powder room. Go somewhere that the useless people go. And stay there.”
Waiter: “This tray is really heavy. Does someone want to eat the Trump steak or not?”
The entire restaurant screamed in horror.
Except for Ivanka. She merely let loose with another toxic belch.
Then she appointed the belch as Trump’s next press secretary.
Previously published. Modified and extended for this post.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
First, let me say I love your Past Imperfect series. Second, I love your witty bashing of the Dumbass Party.
But how could you taint this movie about war, fascism and people escaping genocide with the Orange Idjit and his spawn? 😱😟
Forget it… have Sam play🎶🎹 As Time Goes By🎶 and we’ll have another drink🥃🍸
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Oh, my. I really didn’t mean to taint anything, so now I’m feeling a little blue. Okay, maybe taint a few things, like Ivanka and his Mama. (See, there I go again. Maybe I can’t help it? Sigh.)
Hit it, Sam!
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Oh Brian. That malevolent orange f**kwit, holding up a bible. It’s a wonder he didn’t burst into flames. I hope Ms Putin goes down to a YUGE defeat, his mouth full of rotten meat tartar and his neck pinned by a knee. Shooting rubber bullets and tear gas and flash bangs at your own people who are in peaceful protest? I would call him a pig, but that would be a serious insult to those friendly farm animals. You might be interested in this: https://www.ctvnews.ca/mobile/politics/don-martin-the-21-seconds-of-silence-that-said-everything-about-canada-s-reaction-to-trump-1.4965618
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I saw that video — the most awkward and totally genuine 21 seconds ever heard! (You must be so proud!)
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Thanks, Christi. I am. 🙂
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That silence on the video is perfect. Trudeau knows he can’t say what he really feels without buckling the already strained relationship with the Dump Administration, so he simply says nothing for a bit. A pivotal moment and great theater. But then he follows that up with compassionate words that Trump is simply incapable of feeling or saying. Bravo!
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Actually, I’m really torn about this. Trudeau didn’t say anything because that orange freak can be so vengeful, but at the same time he used the silence convey his (our) disapproval, and yes, followed up with empathy and compassion. BUT, I think he should have spoken up. We should be standing up to that malevolent monstrosity as should other democracies around the world – it’s about time we put him in his place. We can’t continue to fear what he might do.
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Oh, we’re on the same page, as I’m torn as well. I chose the words in my initial response carefully as I didn’t want to presume anything about a political situation in another country. But you’re right, it’s time for the rest of the countries in the world to stop being afraid of Trump repercussions and show a united front against his appalling actions. It won’t be pretty or easy, but it’s necessary.
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Thank you for your sensitivity, Brian. No, it won’t be easy or pretty – most things worth doing usually aren’t, but I’m getting so frustrated and irritated at how the rest of us (in Canada, anyway) are bowing and scraping in fear of Trump’s erratic behaviour. Yes, I’m venting, so thank you.
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Love child of Stalin and Rand-? Bastard, more like.
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Good point. I’ll speak to the editorial board… 😉
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How I wish the Orange One could be dropped into an old, old B-film and left there.
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“Frankenstein”, perhaps? As the monster, of course, not the doctor.
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The Donald would never have the balls to show up at Rick’s. Geesh, even Peter Lorre could kick his ass.
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A glass of WATER could kick his ass. “I’m melting!”
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And the hair might disintegrate like orange cotton candy.
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I am shocked Brian that you could disparage the future POTUS Ivanka. Did you head just spin?
Here is a quote from Casablanca that felt appropriate for your post.
Rick Blaine: And remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart
Capt. Louis Renault: That is my “least” vulnerable spot.
Capt. Louis Renault: That is my ‘least’ vulnerable spot.
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The quote is VERY apt. (Especially since Trump has the added protection of all that cholesterol padding his heart. The bullet would simply ricochet and take out the latest acting press secretary.)
As for Ivanka, well, most of Trump’s base still doesn’t think a woman should be in charge of anything important, so she’s got an uphill battle making her way into Trump’s padded high chair..
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😆 Well this post explained A LOT.
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Right? And now you know. Never eat anything in Casablanca… 😉
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I don’t doubt he eats raw meat, probably from baby cows. If Rick was smart, he’d take it off the menu and turn the place into a Vegan hangout.
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Did you know that Trump is on a liquid diet? Everything he puts on his tongue instantly melts because of the acid.
Wait, maybe I should have saved that for your next “Bad Joke Monday” post. Dang. And I didn’t even google!
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