"Trump/Pence 2020: Would You Like Mustard On That?"

Busking 27
Plasma 15

It was almost midnight when I got the the Lilly Pad.

I managed to play pretty hard for an hour and forty-five minutes or so. Someone put a twenty in my basket, making for a $15.42/hr. outing.

Of course, I decided that tonight, I might be able to get there early, as in less than two hours from now as I sit here.

I got up and made a few samples of the voice of Bob, who is Jacob Scardino's "guardian," and who hosts a radio show on the Christian station, or 800 AM.

Jesus would not be a Democrat, is what I gathered from listening for just a little while, long enough to get a few minutes of him wishing he could personally cast a vote to confirm the nomination of Brett Kavanaugh for the Supreme Court, or whatever they are talking about on AM radio and almost non-stop on NPR these days...

Other than being in a position to start creating my third work of "electronic music," using samples of Bob, I haven't really advanced my cause much.

The plan was really to see this time as just taking a break in between busking Friday and Saturday nights, there will be plenty of time for composing a duet between Bob and my cat Harold on the slower days.

Sunday, I stand to get, I think 45 bucks for a unit of my plasma. I had to go to get the fifteen bucks Thursday to lay the groundwork for that, and play their little carrot-on-a-stick game.

I'm wondering if they have determined that my plasma is probably alright, considering that I show up looking rather healthy and well rested. At least compared to a lot of the donors in the chairs around me.

I usually assume the ones who keep a pissed-off look frozen on their faces the whole time they donate are mad at the fact that they know they are powerless over the fact that they are going to turn their twenty dollars or whatever into a hit of crack as soon as they leave the place, that, after being ripped off for a dollar (by The Man) in getting cash back, then smoke it and feel high, but a high tinged with remiss over the fact that they know they should get a good meal and a good night's sleep after being drained of blood platelets, wait a couple hours before smoking a cigarette, type of thing, but...

They are angry because "they've" got them hooked on the dope and now "they" are draining a nigga's blood, waiting at the Family Dollar to tax a nigga, and, ain't that some shit, what they are putting a nigga through; enough to piss off anyone!

Then ol' whiteboy comes in the place, wearing that hat so we'll notice him, and smiling like he thinks it's funny what a nigga has to go through!!

"Don't Talk Religion or Politics,"
I have heard it said. This pertained to conversations with mother-in-laws, and, I suppose blog readers, but...

The "dang" Democrats are most assuredly going to run an African American in 2020 who will have a formidable advantage over the incumbent.

Nothing short of Russian hacking will be able to save Humpty Trumpty from "a great fall," or a terrible fall (of '20) if you want to look at it that way.

When Obama ran back in 2008, there were massive drives to register black people to vote. I could Google the numbers and all, but...I remember the volunteers canvassing the projects in vans, offering all kinds of assistance in obtaining ID and then registering to vote.

The fact remains that, they then all stayed home for the run-off between lily  Hillary, and the pasty billionaire, but are ready to re-mobilize in droves.

They could pull a black guy off the street and run him, and he would  automatically tally to himself the votes of the same people who are convinced that "they" were trying to frame Oranthall J. Simpson, and Bill Cosby ("they're nothin' but gold diggers!")  and the same thing with Michael Jackson, who waited on corners for vans to come by, back in '07; handicap accessible, and offering a free hot dog (in some places, honest to God, I read that somewhere) to get on the van.

As long as he has never been convicted of a felony...run him!

Donald Trump is going to have to have to, at least, offer the free hot dog, come 2020- payable upon receipt of the Instagram showing you in the voting booth, pushing the "Don" down.

His rallying cry in the inner cities could be "Trump/Pence 2020: Would You Like Mustard On That?"

If he was smart -and that's a big "if"- he would jettison Pence and pick up a brown skinned VP candidate....