President Trump, the Results of Your Psych Eval Are In. We Need to Talk.

Dear President Trump,

My name is Dr. Nathan Feingold. I’m Head of Psychiatry at Johns Hopkins Medical Center. Recently, you received a court order to submit to a battery of psychological tests due to widespread concerns by members of your own administration, Congress, and your wife, about your stability. Each has observed that since you became president, your behavior has become increasingly erratic, or, to quote your recently fired FBI Director, “the dude’s batsh*t crazy”.

This is an executive summary of the results. My findings highlight several areas of serious concern about your overall emotional, psychological and mental health. 

Reading Comprehension and Vocabulary

Your reading comprehension scores indicate a 4th grade reading level. When exposed to passages from various works of literature, including the Gettysburg Address and Shakespeare’s King Lear, you had difficulty identifying the underlying meaning of the passage. For example, you incorrectly opined that the primary point of Martin Luther King’s I have a Dream speech was that he dreamed he could own a house as nice as Trump Towers.

On the positive side, you scored close to the median 3rd grade comprehension level when asked the colors of the main characters in the Dr. Seuss book, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. In reviewing the results of your vocabulary and spelling profile, your scores dropped off significantly for words having more than one syllable. For example, the capital of Arizona is spelled Phoenix, not Fenicks. And the word you were looking for was “presidential” not “precedential.”  Read More…


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  • Published On May. 13, 2017 by TEJ
  • Day at the Museum

    As a good husband, I try to feign interest in my wife’s favorite passions. It’s easy when we’re talking kittens or kayaking. But the next time my wife asks, “Honey, how would you like to check out this new museum?”, if you have an ounce of compassion in you, PLEASE, for the love of God, STOP ME from spinelessly acquiescing to her heartless suggestion. It’s dangerous to my emotional well-being. The problem is that my wife and I have very different notions about what it means to “check out” a museum.

    It doesn’t matter whether we’re talking a museum of paintings, cuckoo clocks, or the Wisconsin Museum of Cheese. It’s all about the approach. I like to swoop in, catch a glimpse of three or four major highlights, and get out while I still have some functioning brain cells. But my wife – she might as well sign a short-term rental agreement with the museum’s Board of Directors, because she’s planning on staying.

    Last weekend, we visited the Museum of Anthropology and Natural History. Michele got excited because she learned this was the last day of their special exhibit called Fabrics Around the World. I figured, how long could this possibly take? I mean, you have cotton, polyester, and wool, the three fabrics that make up every article of clothing I’ve ever owned. We’d roll through the entire display in fifteen minutes max. I was off – by a factor of five.

    My wife was fascinated by the intricate weavings found in Morocco, the brilliant colors preferred in the hilltop regions of Bhutan, and the myriad methods of felting coming from the British Isles. Meanwhile, my interest in fabrics was focused on a pizza stain I just noticed on my white t-shirt which was woven – I think you’ll find this interesting – in the Philippines, using a traditional polyester blend, made in a sweat shop by a nine-year-old boy named Danilo.

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    • Right On! Put me down for a museum tour with Michele. Love museums and that one could be fascinating ....…
      Janice Strong
  • Published On May. 07, 2017 by TEJ
  • The Joy of Sleeping

    Three of the greatest pleasures in life – and I’m sure you will agree – are: relaxing poolside in a sunny tropical location, eating cookie dough ice cream, and sleeping. When my number is up, I hope to go out napping on a chaise lounge in Hawaii with an empty quart of cookie dough ice cream on my lap.

    Seriously, is there anything more blissful in life than napping on a rainy afternoon? Oh sure, I hear you thinking, “You don’t want to waste your life away catching z’s, do you?” To which I say, “Of course I do!” I read an article that said on average, human beings spend 33 percent of their lives sleeping. I estimate I’ve spent closer to 38% – but then I’ve always been an over-achiever. (I would have read the rest of the article, but I was snoozing by the fourth paragraph.)

    You know the kind of people I can’t stand? People who get up at 4:30 am to work out at the gym for an hour before zipping through the entire New York Times crossword puzzle, while making a kale & kelp milkshake for breakfast before heading off to work by 7 to cure cancer or feed the homeless – no doubt with kale & kelp milkshakes.

    To be honest, for decades, I used to be one of those people (except for the k & k shakes, that is). But now that I’m retired, I realize that for all those decades, my priorities were seriously out of whack. Lately I’ve discovered the joy of sleeping in. Oh, I still wake up by 5:30, but now I pass the next two hours lulling in bed, debating how long I can stay there before my grape-sized bladder gives out. I love sleeping. It’s that tranquil period between 10 pm and 7 am when I don’t have to wash dishes, do laundry, clean the basement, pay bills or listen to my wife complain about how much time I waste sleeping.

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    • For ten years of my moderately interesting media career, Tim, I worked a shift that began at eight in…
      Drew Fisher
  • Published On Apr. 30, 2017 by TEJ
  • United Airlines Brings Back Its Friendly Skies

    Lately, United Airlines’ longstanding motto, Fly the Friendly Skies, has taken a serious tumble. On a recent flight four passengers were told they had to disembark to make room for airline personnel. One of the chosen was a doctor who refused to give up his seat, using a lame excuse that he had an ethical obligation to see patients the next morning. There’s one in every crowd. There are also cell phones in every crowd, and many took videos of security guards dragging the 69-year old Asian American doctor down the aisle, ejecting him from the plane, complete with a broken nose and two lost teeth.

    The bad news for United: Within an hour those videos went viral, making international news. The good news:  – United’s stock actually took off – soared – the very next day, increasing the company’s market cap by $355 million. Apparently, investors were impressed by United’s new slogan, “At United, we’ll treat you as well as we treat your luggage!” And now United now has plenty of ready cash for the lawsuits.

    The airlines’ CEO, Oscar Munoz, wasted no time in defending their policy: “If you don’t have many Frequent Flyer miles and you paid a low price for your ticket, we have the right to remove you. Be grateful we carry this out while still on the ground. The Board of Directors argued for inflight ejections, but we couldn’t agree on whether or not to supply parachutes.” Today, however, amidst public furor, United reversed itself and issued several new policy guidelines to reassure hesitant travelers that once again, the airline is committed to bringing back the friendly skies. Effective immediately, United will make the following changes in its passenger policies:

    No longer will passengers be tasered for asking for a second bag of peanuts.

    Read More…


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  • Published On Apr. 22, 2017 by TEJ
  • If I Ruled the World

    If I ruled the world - misspelled namesThe world is falling apart. People are oblivious to the needs of others. It seems nobody ever holds the door open for the next person anymore. We’re all in a rush. We blame others for our problems. Politicians talk about building 50-foot walls to keep out Mexicans. North Korea is launching missiles at South Korea. And my Mariners are on another five-game losing streak. What has this world come to?

    If I’m ever given the chance to rule the world, things will be different. Way different. I’d implement long-overdue legislation that will make life way better for everyone (well, at least the people I like). When I rule the world…

    • I’ll declare Cookie Dough ice cream the official junk food of the United States – and I will use my presidential authority to veto any attempt by Congress to pass a Constitutional Amendment changing it to Pistachio.
    • People will get ticketed for being obnoxiously rude. Failure to hold the door open for the person behind you will be subject to a $25 fine. Talk on your cell phone in a movie theater? That’ll be a mandatory 10-day jail sentence – with no cell phone privileges.
    • People who nab my parking space, even though they could clearly see I was there first, waiting for the other car to leave, will lose all driving privileges for a year. Enjoy taking the bus, dude.
    • I will ban Twitter. It’s been ten years now, and I still don’t get the appeal. #banTwitter.
    • If my computer becomes infected with malware simply because I clicked on a Facebook link that reads “25 celebrities who have aged badly”, the perpetrator of that malware will be sentenced to six months in jail – and their job 16 hours a day will be to remove malware and viruses on laptops worldwide.

    Read More…


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  • Published On Apr. 16, 2017 by TEJ
  • How to (Almost) Kill Kittens Without Really Trying

    Let me set the record straight: I love kittens – and cats of all ages and breeds – with the exception of Persians (I just don’t trust those shifty little eyes). My wife and I have had cats (or more accurately, cats have had us) throughout our entire marriage.

    We even foster kittens to help get them used to being around people. We feed them, cuddle with them and play with them for six to ten weeks, until they’re ready to be adopted. It’s how we ended up with our two current cats, Zippy and Buddy, neither of whom, as best as I can tell, fear that I’ll try to murder them in their sleep.

    I’ve never once thought about trying to snuff out any of our feline friends – okay, maybe I harbored a few nefarious thoughts when Patches peed on me, but that’s the only time – unless you count when Monster ran off with my digital watch and I later found it in the toilet.

    With those very few exceptions – and maybe five or six others – I’ve rarely contemplated putting out a contract on any of our cats. But if I had plotted their demise, I could not have come up with a more fool-proof plan than the one we accidentally set in motion last week – one that almost drowned and / or electrocuted five adorable kittens and their mom.

    Let me start at the very beginning…

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    • How did a cat turn on the faucet? You must have one of the lever kind that a jump…
      Janice Strong
  • Published On Apr. 06, 2017 by TEJ
  • Being a People Pleaser Can Get You into Trouble

    [WARNING: This blog post contains a visual image which some readers may find offensive and which could cause nightmares. Elderly people, young children and readers with weak constitutions may wish to avoid proceeding further.]

    There is something seriously wrong with me. No, I’m not talking about my moderate OCD. Or my phobia of snakes. Or that I listen to Gregorian Chants – even though each one sounds exactly the same.

    No, I have an even deeper personality flaw: I’m a chronic people pleaser. Throughout my life, I’ve been hard-wired to want to please people and have sometimes gone to ridiculous lengths not to disappoint them. A few cases in point (all of these are true):

    In high school, the class I hated the most was Latin. But my teacher, Mr. Vandenberg, really liked having me as a student. So, at the end of the year, he asked if I’d sign up for Latin 2. I swore I would NEVER take Latin 2. But I caved, because I did not want to disappoint him – which is why I also took Latin 3 the year after that.

    In college, I always gave my roommate the bed closest to the window. In grad school, I offered my apartment mate the nicer bedroom. Not because I was a great guy, but because I wanted them to like me.

    Once when I was a sales manager my team had a record-breaking quarter. I took them out to celebrate. The reps only wanted one thing from me at the party: to watch me smoke a fat eight-inch cigar they’d bought just for the occasion. I don’t smoke. I’d never smoked anything stronger than a candy cigarette before that moment. But they all were cheering me on, and well, I didn’t want to disappoint. So, I puffed, gasped and choked my way through the entire cigar. It was torture. And they loved that I was a good sport. Then I excused myself to the bathroom so I could throw up.

    A few years later, I was boarding a commercial jetliner on a business trip with co-workers. One of them urged me to walk into the cockpit, hold out my boarding pass and tell the pilot with a straight face, “I believe you’re in my seat.” So, I did exactly as he asked. Thankfully, I was not arrested. But that may explain why I’m now on the terrorist watch list.

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    • That was hysterical!!! Now, tell us! Tell us! Tim! Tim! Tim!
      Dorothy Rosby
  • Published On Mar. 26, 2017 by TEJ
  • My Confession to My Readers

    Confession to my readersLately, I’ve been carrying a heavy burden that I need to get off my chest. There are many things I feel guilty about, and I just have to come clean about them to my loyal readers – all eleven of you. In the spirit of Stephen Colbert’s Midnight Confessions, I have decided to make my own public confessions to all who care to listen.

    [NOTE: Before reading my heartfelt confessions below, please turn up the volume of your speakers, then click on this link, skip past the commercial and wait about four seconds, after which you’ll hear some appropriate background confessional music. Then return to this page to read my confessions. God bless you, my friend.] 

    Dear reader,

    Sometimes I can be a bit lazy. Like when my wife asks me to clean the sheets of the guest bedroom after our most recent visitors have left, I will say “Absolutely, honey” but then I’ll simply pull the bed covers over the sheets without changing them.

    Sometimes I will tell my neighbor that his lawn looks great, when secretly, deep down in my heart, I know it doesn’t. It really needs to be weeded.

    I’m not proud of this, but recently, when I played golf with my buddies, I told the guy keeping score that I got an 9 on the par-3 eleventh hole, when really I got a 10.

    When donating food to the homeless, there have been times when instead of putting the Girl Scout Thin Mints cookies in the donation bag, I’ll put in graham crackers. Because I don’t particularly care for graham crackers – unless they’re the cinnamon ones, in which case I’ll probably keep them, too.

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    • Tim, no need to confess your deflated golf score.......after two seasons of playing golf with you I have always added…
      Ken Neilson
  • Published On Mar. 17, 2017 by TEJ
  • My Sinkin’ Lincoln

    When it comes to car ownership, I’m a Hyundai kind of guy. I’ve always purchased safe, practical, mid-priced, somewhat boring cars. I’d never driven anything remotely top-end in my life. But on a recent Florida vacation, the rental company gave me a free upgrade to a luxury car. Not just any luxury car. Oh no. I’m talking an elite LINCOLN!

    What a sweet ride it was. Smooth, gorgeous lines, spacious leather seats, rocket ship acceleration, and more dashboard buttons than you’d find in the cockpit of a 747. There was enough room in the trunk to easily stow both of our kids – not that I would seriously consider such a thing – unless they were acting horribly, of course. It was the most incredible driving experience of my life.

    Everything was going along swimmingly. My wife was speaking to me for a change. The weather was 75 degrees and sunny every day. And people I drove past were giving me that “what makes you think you’re better than me?” look. Answer: “I’m driving a Lincoln – You’re driving a Ford Fiesta.”

    Maybe I was getting a little too full of myself driving around with that smug expression on my face. I guess it was just a matter of time before God weighed in to teach me a lesson in humility. And that happened right after I went to church. Technically I wasn’t there for a church service. That just happened to be where a classical guitar concert was taking place. The church parking lot was full – of Chevys and Priuses and such. But not a single Lincoln – until I made my grand entrance, with my smokin’ sunglasses. I was seriously stylin’ in my Linc. (I’ll bet that’s what cool dudes call their Lincolns. But I’m just guessin’.)

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    • Matthew McConaughey doesn't mention anything about this in his Lincoln commercials, although he does fall backward into a swimming pool…
      Drew Fisher
  • Published On Mar. 05, 2017 by TEJ
  • The Very Happy Story of Snowball and MooMoo

    This is the story of Snowball and MooMoo, two very, very happy kittens. At first, they weren’t very happy at all. No, they were scared. And cold – because they were born one November morning in a forest with nobody to love them. Their mommy had left them and never returned. Poor kitties. So, they were all alone and wishing that someone would take them home and play with them.

    Then something wonderful happened. A nice lady found them and took them to a building called an animal shelter, where lots of other lonely kittens were living. They made lots of new friends. And they were fed and cleaned and had a good time. But they spent most of their time in a small metal room called a cage. They did not like living in a cage one bit.

    A couple weeks went by and then another wonderful thing happened. A nice man came to the shelter and offered to foster them for a few weeks until they found a permanent home. And in less time than it takes a kitty to crush a mouse’s skull, they had a new home with the nice man. He named them Snowball and MooMoo – because one was snowy white, while the other was black and white, just like a Holstein cow. The nice man was very good at coming up with lame kitty cat names.

    At first, Snowball and MooMoo stayed in a small room with a tile floor and a sink. There was this big box filled with what looked like sand, only rougher. It looked kind of scary, so they made sure to always avoid it. When they had to go poop or pee, they just went in a corner or in the sink – anywhere other than that scary box with the scratchy sand.

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    • Moo Moo and Snowball are lucky cats! Except for the other cats making fun of their names. ;)
      Tony
  • Published On Feb. 19, 2017 by TEJ