Uh, NO, This Isn’t “What Don Draper Will Look Like At 80.”


 DON-DRAPER

Seriously?? A little more orange and you have John Boehner, right?

A Mister Tim O’Brien, not from Fort Lee, New Jersey, but president of the Society of Illustrators and the victim of a brief but supposedly clairvoyant snit-fit, says the “troubled” character of Don Draper actually went on to have a “wholesome, fulfilling life.”

Bwwaaahaaaahaaaa!

Sayeth, Timmeh: “I think Don went on to be near his children with his move back to NYC. He learned something out west; that he had people around him who loved him and I think the rest of his life was recognizing that.”

Sadly, no, Tim. Did you even watch the show??

THIS is what the “troubled” character of Don Draper will look like at 60; just forget 80.  This is what Don Draper went on to fulfill: The life of an alcoholic on the street.
Real Don Draper

The “troubled” character of Don Draper, known on the street as, “Madman.”

Sayeth, Terreh: “I think Don went on to be near his drinking bros back in the hobo parks of L.A. Yes, he did learn something out west; that he had people around him there who used him, even as he used them; I think the rest of his life was spent recognizing that, hating it, and them, and eventually drowning in his addictions to alcohol and tobacco, and dying alone under a Maytag refrigerator box at age 62.”

But you’re not off the hook just yet, Timmeh.  Let’s learn a bit about cirrhosis of the liver, the disease that comes on slowly over years of heavy alcohol use.  Early on, there are often no symptoms at all, outside of, you know, the usual cognitive impairment that goes hand in hand with being a drunk.

As the disease really gets going though, you become tired, weak, itchy;  you’ll probably experience swelling in your lower legs; maybe develop an unpleasant shade of yellow skin;  you’ll find yourself bruising easily.  You’ll look in the mirror one day, and discover spider-like blood vessels all over the skin of your nose.  Worse still, you’ll have fluid build up in your abdomen;  the fluid build up may end up producing spontaneous infection.  If you’re lucky, you might avoid bleeding from your dilated esophageal veins.  And the resulting hepatic encephalopathy results in increasing confusion and eventually, unconsciousness.

So yeah, it takes more than a few drinks per day, over a number of years, for cirrhosis to occur.  But hey, that was Don.  He could hang with the best worst of them, and he almost always did.

Then there was Don’s lung cancer.  He was diagnosed at 58, after a protracted hacking fit one morning.  This was right after he realized he was broke, and had no recourse to medical care.  When it rains…  But.  Ninety percent of heavy smokers like Don inevitably find themselves with lung cancer, the most common cause of cancer-related death in men and women world-wide;  it’s responsible for more than a million and a half deaths every year.

Finally, we haven’t even looked into Draper’s more or less constant casual sexual relationships with women, and what that meant to his increasingly stunted soul.  Suffice it to say, all physical poisons greatly retard the efforts of the spirit to exalt the mortal mind.  And then there’s that big bag ‘o mental poisons— fear, anger, envy, jealousy— suspicion, hate, intolerance— these likewise tremendously interfere with the spiritual progress of the evolving mortal soul.

So NO.  Don Draper did not suddenly decide to live a “wholesome, fulfilling life.” Like so many other disillusioned, poisoned souls, he drank himself to death.

May he rest in peace.

The Usual Suspects

The Usual Derp SuspectsMay the derp with the biggest head win. Click for too close.

WATERLOO, IOWA —   Jimmy Joe Johnson, a member of the Iowa GOP’s State Central Committee and a former Iowa adviser to Ricky Santorum, said he spoke with unannounced praisedential candidate Ted Cruz about “tweaking” his economics-heavy message to best win over Iowa conservatives.

“You’ve got to enunciate the moral themes here,” Johnson told him, “Get a bigger cross, and wear it above your flag pin.  If you don’t, you’ll lose.”  So Ted tweaked it.

You’re probably surprised to see a super-slimmed-down Chris Christie front and center in the lineup.  No more than we are;  here’s what happened.  Six weeks ago Christie promised himself that if he “lost” a little bit in two months, he would lob the rest of his weight into the ring.  Nobody asked him whether he meant lose a kilo of cannabis, or cocaine, or human fat; or, you know, lost ground politically in New Jersey.  And we’re not sure why losing something is incentive to try and win something, but he swears— a lot— that he lost it;  well, actually he swears he’s just no longer looking for it.

And then there’s citizen Ricky Santorum.

On the left end, a cranky little* Marco Rubio won’t shut up about nothing in particular.  And on the far right end, crippled Verbal Kint look-alike,** Randy Paul, who is still sniggering over that CPAC thing, is currently berating “potheads” that they’ll stop wanting to show up for work if they smoke all the time, annnnnd, they’ll get stupid and lazy and lose IQ points.  But Randy is drawing on real world experience:  remember that “Aqua Buddha” episode with his roomie?  No?  Seriously, NO??

Have you been smoking?

 

 

“Not tall enough to be president.” —Mr. Ann Coulter

**  Also “Not tall enough to be president.” —Mr. Ann Coulter

The original Usual Suspects.

Young MultiMillionaire Arrested

Bieber ButtYou’re doing it wrong.

CALABASAS, CA — A callow Canadian pop musician residing in the United States on an O-1 visa was arrested in Miami Beach early Thursday morning for a spontaneous performance involving drag racing, driving under the influence of alcohol and other drugs, and resisting arrest— all under the auspices of an expired Georgia driver’s license.  Nineteen year old Justin Bieber, who lives in Calabasas, was behind the peddles of a rented chicken-yellow Lamborghini when he was stopped by Miami Police.

Miami denizens say Bieber, who was nearly in a “stupor” from a night of tossing some $75,000 in paper currency onto a nightclub floor, was feeling the need for speed.  And if you must know more than that about it, or are just looking for an excuse to take a long shower, go here.

•  •  •

Wanda TalmageA dazed and near comatose Wanda Talmage of Calabasas, California sits slumped against a stunning mirrored pillar in The Commons At Calabasas Mall.

The irony of that “chicken-yellow” Lamborghini was not lost on Wanda Talmage, also of Calabasas, California.  Until last week, Ms Talmage was blissfully unaware of Justin Bieber;  in fact she was so distraught that all she knew for sure was that nearly two dozen of her children were missing, and presumed dead.

Ms Talmage is currently under-employed in a fashionably hip baby chicken mill just off the Ventura Expressway (take the 405 to Ventura, and stay on that until you cross 27, then turn on Mulholland Drive) on the outskirts of trendy Calabasas, the trendy home of numerous trendy and extremely wealthy “Californians,” many of whom have nothing better to do than make wannabe trendy parodies of already trendy parodies.


Want “The Buzz” on Calabasas, eggs and all?  Remember, this is time you can’t get back.

In monster chicken sobs, Ms Talmage recounted how she had been tricked into jizzin’ dozens of eggs for a local man named “Ralphs,” and before she knew what was happening, her embryos were whisked away, subsequently to be sold to one of Justin Bieber’s gofers, Arturo Estrada-Steinmetz.

Estrada-Steinmetz* rolled up to Las Bieb’s, and, boyiz will be boyiz, nearly twenty of Ms Talmage’s unborn were soon scrambled against the neighbor’s entryway plaster, with about the same accuracy a short order chef slings hash.  The neighbor even has a recording of Bieber hurling the eggs.

Admittedly, Talmage’s case will be difficult to make, let alone prosecute.  Beiber’s neighbor, and Miami P.D., not so much.

Of course, not everyone would react as Bieber has to the sudden acquisition of 55 million zemolas fresh out of moist prepubescent pocketbooks from around the world, as well as their undying affection.  Nevertheless, he’s quickly fashioning one hell of a cross to bear.  Here’s hoping he lives long enough to get the job done.

Yes, a fictitious foil.

HAPPY MONDAY. This is for you, Peter O’Toole

This is for you, Peter O’Toole.

 

“I will not be a common man. I will stir the smooth sands of monotony.”
—Peter O’Toole