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Mr Nice Guy strikes out

Trump vs Frump, #27

Donald Trump appears to be softpedalling his hilarious ‘Crooked Hillary’ gag this week, perhaps out of deference to her precarious state of health, perhaps because the economic indicators in the US are heading in the wrong direction, ie upwards.

But, hey, you know…. who knows? Know what I’m saying?

That’s right! A story in International Business Times would seem to suggest that ‘Crooked Donald’ is a monicker better fitted to the Republican nominee, and he’d better start coughing-up his tax returns if he wants to gain the sympathy vote.

Some Posts ago, I appended one of my famous jokes. Not humour, which illuminates all muh Posts, all of the time. Just a regular joke, right? A cracker. I think of one occasionally.

It went:

Q. Where would you find the Donald Trump Foundation?

A. Under the Trump Tower.

Now, all the best jokes have a subtext going on. Mine was suggesting perhaps Trump might not exactly be known for his philanthropy, know what uhm saying? (That’s how you spell it, yeah? With a Ph? You’re phired! hey, just kidding. No, really, you’re phired…)

Actually, I didn’t know at the time there was a Donald J Trump Foundation. It was a best guess. Who knew? I coulda Googled it,  but hey! Does this look easy? Does Donald J Trump make this look easy to you? Hey, SuperTrump? Do I do this because I want to be President? Innuendo would be my middle name, too, if it wasn’t Desmond.

No, seriously, it’s Irony. Irony is muh middle name, with a ‘J’. Just so you know.

Anyway, right. The International Business Times who knows exactly what about business, right? Does Donald J Trump know about business? You bet he do. I AM business… has published a piece innuendoing that the Donald J Trump Foundation, which does exist, may not be quite what it sounds. In fact, rather than a charity splurging out money to deserving causes, it may be some kind of tax-friendly investment vehicle!

That’s what they’re suggesting. I know! He-he! It’s mad!

Because according to the facts as printed by the Business Times, and who needs facts in today’s ironic political landscape, the Donald J Trump Foundation has made in its life only five donations, four of around $10k, none of which has apparently been recorded as ever being actually received by the donees, or whatever, donuts, some black guys playing basketball in a tenement yard, what have they got to lose?

According to the Times, a fifth donation of $25k was actually paid, only recorded as something else, to ‘a political group supporting’ Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi, a blonde bombshell who three weeks later seems to have dropped an investigation into… Nudge nudge, wink wink, need I say more?

Yes, actually, you need. It’s illegal for a charity to make a political contribution, right? Know what I mean?

One of Donald J Trump’s other interests is the so-called ‘Trump University’. This venerable institution, founded in 1368 by the fourth Earl of Trump; no, let’s make him King Donald of Troon, somewhere, has been caught up in a scandal of sizeable proportions.

According to the New Yorker (02 June, 2016), a  whistleblowin’ former salesman, Ronald Schnackenburg, a name so long he needs two badges, has claimed that Trump University was simply a scam in which perfunctory ‘courses’ for would-be estate agents were offered in exchange for large, tax-deductible fees.

Donald McRonald probably got the idea from McDonalds, whose ‘Hamburger University’ may still exist for all I know, spraying out degrees in Burgerology to students spattered with tomato ketchup.

The evidence points to the fact, writes the Times‘ Mary Papenfuss, that: “Trump hasn’t given a dime to his own foundation since his last contribution in 2008, according to tax records.”

The paper did track down $25,000 in charity money given illegally in 2013 to a political group supporting Florida Attorney General Pam Bondi, who was considering litigation against Trump University. She decided not to do so after the contribution was made.

So I’m not saying, right, am I or what? I’m not saying, but hey. What I am saying is,

“This article is not at all accurate…. Mr Trump continues to be unfairly maligned for his generosity” – Campaign spokeswoman….

…Hope Hicks, who, in a report in the Washington Post, is quoted also as saying Trump has given away “tens of millions of dollars” over his lifetime. However,

“…she has yet to provide any documentation to backup that statement.”

And you better believe it. Because I’m not releasing my tax records for anyone, okay? Know what I’m saying? Nobody. Nada. Yada.

Gonna build that wall, papa. Make you proud.




Never mind the bollocks

While inadvisedly listening to a news bulletin, I have just learned from a clip I quickly switched off that the indefatigable blimp, Farage has been given his own show on London’s LBC all-talking radio station, presumably because he can’t get enough airtime on the BBC.

Appalled, yes, but not surprised.

In September 2013, I sent an email to the Managing Director of LBC, which is in fact a successor company to the original LBC. I mentioned that 8 October 2013 would mark the 40th anniversary of the inaugural broadcast of what was indeed Britain’s first-ever legal, commercially funded radio station.

I went on to explain that I knew the date well, because I was one of the inaugural broadcasters on-air that day; having been hired for a pittance as a newsreader and writer by LBC in July of that year; furthermore, I later went on to produce or present almost every programme segment in the schedule; and, if they liked, they could invite me along as a still barely living witness, possibly one of the Last of the Few, to any commemorative bash they might be arranging.

Old habits die hard, and a free drink seemed in order.

By return, an email arrived from the MD, thanking me with enthusiasm, saying he had passed my details on to the director in charge of the celebrations.

Later that October, having heard nothing more, I visited LBC’s website and read all about the wonderful party they had thrown, at which a few surviving demented old hacks I can still remember working with had been wheeled in drooling by their carers, for a glass of Wincarnis, a game of Bingo and a good old sing-song round the battered piano.

Those like me whose memories of the grim days of the 1970s remain undimmed by the passage of alcohol – that lets out most UKIP supporters – will recall the appalling shambles that attended the birth of Britain’s Independent Local Radio Network.

The bumbling upper-class nincompoops appointed to the board of the Independent Broadcasting Authority had, for some reason that still to this day baffles History, handed the licence for their flagship 24-hour ‘rolling news’ operation in the world’s capital city to Express Newspaper Group, ignoring all applications from organisations having any connection whatsoever to the actual business of broadcasting.

Hauled from their agreeable lunches at El Vino’s, print journalists would henceforth be given three-hour programme slots to fill, entirely unhindered by the expertise of any production staff or training in the operation of the massively redundant, self-operated studio technology, that resembled in baffling complexity (to coin a phrase) the flight-deck of Concorde.

Members of the SOGAT print operatives union, potty-mouthed machine-minders, would spend their well-paid lives playing poker, holding strike meetings and otherwise sticking two fingers up at the editorial staff waiting in vain to be handed the scraps of paper ripped from the teleprinters, bearing the vital news we needed to fill the aching void that was the ’24-hour’ schedule – given that any advertisers were staying away in droves.

I have bogld about it elsewhere. I need not go into any more anecdotal detail. Suffice to say, it is probably just as well I was not at the birthday party, as having mild Asperger’s I tend to say things people regret.

I should have liked at least to be invited, but sadly the ‘C’ in LBC has never stood for Competence, Care, Charity, Curiosity; Long Boring Chatshows, more like.




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