Hello children, it's me, your favorite aggravated husband of a Crazy Duck Lady.

Aforementioned Crazy Duck Lady has said to me repeatedly that she thinks I should write something - an anthology of comedic quips or quotes, or possibly even a narrative.

After seeing the meteoric rise of Donald (Duck) Trump on the national stage and the internet's somewhat sarcastic rebranding of his personality, I felt that burning itch of a muse that Mary Anne speaks of.

Either a muse or a fungus, I can never tell which.

Anyway, today I start (cue dramatic score) ...

The God Emperor of Soon (a bad sci-fi parody)

(to get any of this, you should read Frank Herbert's Dune series, particularly the fourth book)

What difference, at this point, does it make? - Hillary Prima

She was the rightful ruler, dammit, screamed the voice in her head.

Sure, she was a ghola - a clone with memories of her initial life; in this case, multiple lives - but with the awakening of her memories, Hillary was just as ambitious as ever. Possibly even more ambitious than Hillary Prima, the very first Hillary from almost ten millennia ago. She knew, knew, in her heart of hearts that she was destined to rule not a simple, small, blue planet, but the entire known universe to which mankind had spread. Star systems upon star systems.

She felt the warm comfort of the long cylinder in her hands. A SocMed gun, a sonic weapon of ancient technology from ages past, but still powerful enough to ruin any person or structure unfortunate enough to be caught in its beam.

The primitive but extremely effective (like most weapon technologies) gun was smuggled to her by a traitorous Femmaneest faction of the God Emperor's bodyguards, the Duck-Speakers, while she awaited His presence in His gold-adorned private chamber.

She heard the throne-cart before she saw it. An enormous golden vehicle carrying the God Emperor arrived and began stabilizing itself and adjusting to His tons of bulk.

He was a gigantic worm with a human face. The wormskin was rough and apparently very thick, almost like a segmented carapace.

"Crooked, where are you? Come out, let's see your ugly crooked lyyying face."

With a ferocious grimace on her face from the God Emperor's insult, she swiftly hid the gun behind a pillar as she stepped into His view.

"Trump. I'm so glad you agreed to see me." The grimace only changed slightly to a pained frown.

"Ahhhhhhh... Trump. I remember that name. It was a HYUUUUUGE number of years ago. And I guess you still want the same thing, Crooked?"

Slightly surprised, she edged toward the pillar and the gun. "Same thing? What do you mean, Trump?"

"It means that you always want the same thing after your memories are restored." The lips on the worm face puckered while He spoke. He looked like a horrid parody of a duck. A duck with a human face with bad hair and a giant worm body.

"Trump... Donald... what do you take me for? I would never..." As she trailed off, she grabbed the gun and unleashed its power on the worm.

The entire human face of the God Emperor blinked, enfolded in the wormskin. The skin itself, rather than being flayed off like human skin would under the force of the SocMed beam, seemed not only to absorb the beam, but to grow under it.

The worm wildly gyrated from the golden wheeled platform, flipped over, and caught the ghola's legs underneath it, flinging the gun to the far end of the chamber. The bones crunched under the overwhelming weight.

The worm's face poked out of its hiding place, looking Hillary straight in the eye. "Didn't they... my enemies... teach you anything? SocMed... "Social Media"... only does good things to me!"

The God Emperor's lower half began a slow roll up towards Hillary's face, crushing her as it went.

"Where do you think I got this HYUUUUGE worm body with its DEVASTATINGLY thick skin? My enemies! They used SocMed on my human form, not knowing of course that my genetics and exposure to certain environments would convert it to an immortal container for my HYUUUGE ego!"

Death was slowly encroaching on the ghola's senses. "But... Trump... I... thought..."

"Bullshit, Hillary. You're just a lying little crooked liar. DISAPPOINTING and predictable. You never thought anything but how you wanted to rule over everything. But I win. And you?"

The ghola breathed her last.

"You lose. As always."

The worm crawled back to his golden throne vehicle and rested. Then he raised his face and yelled out, "GUARDS! I NEED ANOTHER HILLARY!"

The Duck-Speakers whispered among themselves as they shook their heads:

"He loses more Hillarys that way."

First installment here.

I've had a beautiful, I've had a flawless campaign. You'll be writing books about this campaign. - Trump, before The Apotheosis.

Hillary the Ghola had the same upbringing as her predecessors.

Born from one of the mysterious axlotl tanks in a lab deep in the bowels of the God Emperor's palace, she proceeded to be educated about Hillary Prima and His Imperial Greatness. Their history together from circa 30 BA (Before Apotheosis) to 1 AI (Anno Imperator) was the main subject matter.

When she asked her tutors and other Duck-Speakers (who were all women for whatever reason) why she had to learn such boring fare, she was told it was to prepare her for her day of awakening.

Wasn't she already awake? She invariably asked this as well, and the response was always a smile, an entirely too patronizing smile, and "You have much more to know, and that knowledge will be your awakening."

Finally, it came to her one day when she realized what being a ghola truly meant. A clone, but not just a "normal" clone that had the same genes and physical makeup as a predecessor, but a clone that possessed memories of its former life as well.

So that's what the education was all about, she thought to herself. It was teaching her about the life she had led before the God Emperor ascended to His throne. Before then, she knew him as Donald Trump, a real-estate billionaire turned TV star.

He was human once! A human being! With arms and legs and head and skin and everything!

But even after she had deduced this, she still felt that she hadn't achieved the goal that had been set for her. She didn't feel any more awake than any other time after she had emerged from the strange laboratory on the day of her birth. Every day, the same routine.

Until...

A small group of female soldiers came to her private quarters. The leader motioned to her in an almost ritualistic fashion.

"Arise, young Hillary. It is time for your awakening. You will be a member of the God Emperor's court until He deems your memories fully restored, at which you may come and go at your will as a Freewoman."

Excitement overcame her. She followed the squad to an incredibly enormous room, adorned in exquisite fabrics and - GOLD! Gold on the walls and supporting pillars and arches, all around.

A long table with the most elaborate silver settings she had ever seen was at the center of the room. One tall upholstered chair sat at one end of the table; the other end had a place-setting but no chair.

She heard a grinding, powered noise. Into the room rolled a giant tracked vehicle - a cart, all golden, with a huge throne on its flat bed.

There He was on His cart, in all His wormy glory: The God Emperor Trump.

The cart rolled up to a fair distance from the end of the table, then the worm slithered toward the front end where little stumpy arms could reach the place-setting.

"Hillary! How are you sweetheart? Sit down, let's have a little talk, okay?"

Apprehensively, she approached the chair and sat.

(to be continued, obviously)

Hi kids, it's me the Angry Old Fat dude comin' atcha once again.

I've got some more installments of my little online series The God Emperor of Soon lined up and ready for your perusal - or ridicule, or whatever. Haven't gotten any feedback on the current two installments, so I don't know if you like what you're reading or not. Alls I know is, a little more exposition in the third installment, then finally action starts on the fourth one.

ANYWAYS...

Good news on the Olivia Outlaw front. She's finished up her Seducing the Guardian series of gay romance, and the latest book is now available (as always) on the Amazon Kindle and compatible devices! YAY!

I've also updated the website to show the book, Enticing Duty, in the sidebar and on the List of Books by Olivia Outlaw.

So hit one of those links above, get the book, and get to reading! Don't make me go get my belt...

First installment here.

Second installment here.

It’s freezing and snowing in New York – we need global warming! - Trump, before the Apotheosis

"So Hillary, let's talk about you and about how you feel. You doing okay? Your lessons going good, yeah?"

The waitstaff began filing in with the most delicious-smelling and beautifully presented meal she'd ever smelled and seen, and arranged the table just so.

"Well enough, Emperor. I've learned a great deal about our time together back before your ascension to the throne."

"Good, good." Trump paused and ate some dry meat chunks.

"You were fully human back then. What happened to you?" She daintily placed some of her meal - chicken? It tasted like chicken, chicken in a very rich sauce - on her tongue. The explosions of taste were powerful and pleasing.

"Oh Hillary, a bunch of stuff. The main thing was that my superior genetics with the new environment mutated me into what you see. A TREEEMENDOUS body that cannot age. Immortal, for all intents and purposes."

She reached for her crystal goblet - water? Water. She misjudged the distance and sent the crystal shattering on the floor. A splash, and then a puddle began forming.

A guttural cry came from the other end of the table. The worm quickly withdrew from the splash and puddle - much more quickly than a body that large should be able to.

"GUARDS! COME AND CLEAN THIS UP IMMEDIATELY!"

Did Hillary hear fear in his voice? Very possibly, yes, she thought so.

The servants mopped it up as Hillary the Ghola profusely apologized. "Nah, sweetie, don't worry about it", said a much calmer God Emperor.

"I meant to ask you, Your Greatness, about this environment you speak of. I've never been outside your palace, but all of the pictures of it in my lessons have it surrounded by desert. Did you move to a alien planet that was devoid of plant life?"

"No, Hillary, this is Earth."

Shock overcame her. "You mean to tell me that the Earth is nothing but desert now?"

"Mostly. Global warming was real, even though I didn't think so back in the old days. It was a good thing, though."

She glared at him, dismayed at his words and attitude.

"Yeah, you see it was tough to get at all the oil and uranium and other underground stuff we needed to get off this planet and reach for the stars, until we only had sand to worry about. That made it SOOOO much easier. Besides, we still have green spaces near the palace, like the old Central Park for instance."

She shook her head in disbelief and fell silent for awhile, saddened at what happened to Gaia.

"Oh now, don't look like that. Cheer up! Don't be like one of those Gorian jihadists. Whew, it was tough wiping them out, I tell you what. That ol' Al Gore, turning Muslim, that was a big shock lemme tell you. Helped me get my throne though, so I guess I should thank the sumbitch."

He slithered back on the throne-cart. "C'mon, let's go take care of those traitors who handed your predecessor a SocMed rifle. Talk about sad!"

(to be continued)

First installment here.

Second installment here.

Third installment here.

You know, I'm not sitting here like some little woman standing by my man, like Tammy Wynette. - Hillary Prima

She began following the God Emperor's cart down a long curved hallway. Upon the walls were paintings - large rectangular portraits. Portraits she recognized from her lessons.

Jeb Bush. Carly Fiorina. Ted Cruz. Bernie Sanders. Marco Rubio. Al Gore. Arianna Huffington. So many, many others.

There were a few places on the walls down the corridor that were blank, except for dark rectangles, where paintings formerly hung but seemed to have been taken down.

As they approached the end of the hall, next to one of the dark spots was a portrait of... Hillary Prima. The very first Hillary Rodham Clinton, though in this portrait was a good deal older than her current incarnation.

Hillary the Ghola stopped. The God Emperor apparently knew she was going to stop, because He too halted in front of the painting simultaneously, without even checking to see whether or not she did.

She was puzzled. "How many of me have there been?"

"More than you need to know."

"Why do you keep reviving me?"

"You amuse me, and after this HYUUUGE number of years, the BILLIONS of wealth that I possess, and the number of BYOOOOOTIFUL women I married, very few things amuse me anymore."

"Why didn't you clone Jeb or Carly? Why me?"

"Listen, I knew those people. I met those people. Those were nice people, and I enjoyed talking to them very much. But they were losers, and they sucked."

Quietly she contemplated this, then continued on.

Soon she heard a crowd, a very sizable one. The hall opened up to a dais in a gigantic ceremonial chamber, and indeed, there was an innumerable audience. As they entered, there was voluminous cheering, which died down to low, happy mumbling.

Three Duck-Speakers were kneeling in front of the dais with their hands tied behind their backs. The worm's voice boomed out over the crowd. "BEHOLD, THE TRAITORS!"

Loud booing and hissing followed, then relative quiet again.

"THEY ARE FEMMANEESTS! THEY WILL RECEIVE JUST PUNISHMENT!"

Cheering.

The dozen or so Duck-Speakers who were guarding the worm efficiently set up a row of fancy chairs. Three men dressed in uniforms marched to the chairs and saluted the God Emperor. The kneeling traitors began looking nervous, panicked.

"MEN... SIT... DOWN!"

They sat down in an almost inhumanly straight fashion.

"COMMENCE... MANSPREADING!"

At that moment, the men's legs spread apart.

The traitors, who were watching the men and getting angrier and angrier, started trembling and convulsing. Choking and coughing fits overtook them.

"THEY ARE... LITERALLY SHAKING! BREATHING? THEY... CAN'T... EVEN!"

Two of the traitorous Duck-Speakers fell to the floor, motionless. The remaining one somehow slipped from her bonds during her trembling rage. She pulled a transparent pistol from a hiding place in her boot.

"Water pistol! Water pistol!" gasped the crowd in surprise.

The clear stream was aimed dead at the worm. He slid his enormous body away just in time to dodge it. The guards grabbed the pistol wielder and forced her to sit next to one of the men, whose leg brushed gently against hers. Her head nearly exploded and she fell dead, like her companions.

The crowd began a low rhythmic chant, which became louder and louder, until it filled the chamber:

"ALL HAIL THE NIMBLE NAVIGATOR! WE ARE HIS CENTIPEDES!"

While Hillary watched, they dropped down and crawled on their hands and knees, like so many fleshy insects.

The God Emperor boomed, "THUS ENDS THE CEREMONY!"

Hillary the Ghola and the God Emperor exited and started their way back down the curved corridor. Hillary stopped at her portrait again.

"There seems to be a painting missing here next to mine. Who is it?"

The worm did his puckered-lip duck-smirk. He yelled for the guards to get "the painting". They almost instantly came back with a portrait, as if they knew exactly the one to get before she even stopped. Two of them put it on the wall next to hers.

It was Bill Clinton, smiling. Behind him, draped over a chair in what appeared to be the Oval Office was...

A blue dress.

"DAMN YOU BILL! DAAAAAAAAMN YOOOOOOOOOOU!!"

The worm kept smirking. "All the Hillarys say that when they wake up."

(to be continued)

Installments 1, 2, 3, and 4.

And one of the best answers I heard was from a commentator yesterday saying, "Leave it the way it is right now, there have been very few problems, leave it the way it is." There have been very few complaints the way it is. People go, they use the bathroom that they feel is appropriate, there has been so little trouble. - Trump, before the Apotheosis.

Bill Clinton was talking on the phone, laughing that big Southern laugh of his, no doubt shooting the bull with one of his good buddies in Congress and trying to cut a deal on legislation Bill wanted pushed through. His hand eased down toward his lap... and grabbed the short dark hair on a chubby female head as it bobbed slowly...

The nightmare dissipated instantly as Hillary the Ghola jerked upright in bed. THAT BASTARD! THAT SORRY, HORNY, REDNECK SON OF A BITCH!

She got up and put on some more substantial clothing. "Might as well take advantage of the current situation," she thought. She had been declared a Freewoman, and could go anywhere she desired, and the God Emperor told her she could stay in His palace until she wished otherwise. Her quarters were luxurious, food superb, and she had servants at her beck and call, so she saw no reason to go anywhere else.

As much as she had hated the Trump from before His Apotheosis, she couldn't muster any real ill feelings for Him now. He was being very gracious, and He definitely wasn't the actual cause of the ruin of her political career. That would be the star she attached her wagon to, the star that turned into a big rock falling from the sky and plowing into the dirt.

So the rumors of her predecessors get angry enough at Trump to try assassinating Him were completely mysterious to her.

She opened the chamber door and was startled by a tall figure standing close to it, wearing a white plain gown. She was even more shocked to see he... she?... wore what looked like a smooth flesh-colored mask and pulled-back hair.

"Follow me," he said quietly - Hillary decided to think of it as male, give its height. She reluctantly fell in behind him as they headed toward an elevator. They entered, and he touched a sensor pad. The elevator began a long descent.

A long awkward silence followed. She decided to break the ice. "I'm afraid I've never seen you around here. Are you a servant of the God Emperor?"

He turned around to face here with his unsettling mask. "Not... quite. I knew Trump before He took the throne. I was even a good friend of His."

She was taken aback by his use of Trump's name, instead of the customary title. "You... knew... Trump?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact Hillary I remember the time you ran for President of the United States against Him."

"That was almost ten centuries ago! How could you... Are you a ghola too?"

"No, no, no. I helped develop the medical technology for gholas, though. It happened to be the same technology that let me be a shapeshifter. I am as immortal as Trump, but like Him, I gave up my humanity to be so. But I didn't do it originally to live forever. I did it to become a woman. For the second time. And the third time, and finally to surpass gender altogether."

Hillary felt disoriented from the emotional disturbance. "Bruce? Caitlyn?"

"I am known merely as 'Jenner' now."

She suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a mask. It was his real face.

The elevator slowed its downward path, then stopped.

"OK Hillary, let's go see what you need to see."

(to be continued)

Sorry about that my dearies. Big old nasty husband here, by the way.

I was in the process of writing up the fifth installment of my dumb little series "God Emperor of Soon" and clicked the Publish button instead of the Save Draft button. I unpublished it as soon as I could, but the incomplete post still hit Twitter and possibly other social media that Mary Anne happens to be using.

So if you get here by clicking a link that goes to a non-existent page, that's why.

Many apologies, and have a relaxing Labor Day.

Angry Old Fat Man

Installments 1, 2, 3, and 4.

And one of the best answers I heard was from a commentator yesterday saying, "Leave it the way it is right now, there have been very few problems, leave it the way it is." There have been very few complaints the way it is. People go, they use the bathroom that they feel is appropriate, there has been so little trouble. - Trump, before the Apotheosis.

Bill Clinton was talking on the phone, laughing that big Southern laugh of his, no doubt shooting the bull with one of his good buddies in Congress and trying to cut a deal on legislation Bill wanted pushed through. His hand eased down toward his lap... and grabbed the short dark hair on a chubby female head as it bobbed slowly...

The nightmare dissipated instantly as Hillary the Ghola jerked upright in bed. THAT BASTARD! THAT SORRY, HORNY, REDNECK SON OF A BITCH!

She got up and put on some more substantial clothing. "Might as well take advantage of the current situation," she thought. She had been declared a Freewoman, and could go anywhere she desired, and the God Emperor told her she could stay in His palace until she wished otherwise. Her quarters were luxurious, food superb, and she had servants at her beck and call, so she saw no reason to go anywhere else.

As much as she had hated Trump from before His Apotheosis, she couldn't muster any real ill feelings for Him now. He was being very gracious, and He definitely wasn't the actual cause of the ruin of her political career. That would be the star she attached her wagon to, the star that turned into a big rock falling from the sky and plowing into the dirt.

So the rumors of her predecessors getting angry enough at Trump to try assassinating Him were completely mysterious to her.

She opened the chamber door and was startled by a tall figure standing close to it, wearing a plain white gown. She was even more shocked to see he... she?... wore what looked like a smooth flesh-colored mask and pulled-back hair.

"Follow me," he said quietly - Hillary decided to think of it as male, give its height. She reluctantly fell in behind him as they headed toward an elevator. They entered, and he touched a sensor pad. The elevator began a long descent.

A long awkward silence followed. She decided to break the ice. "I'm afraid I've never seen you around here. Are you a servant of the God Emperor?"

He turned around to face her with his unsettling mask. "Not... quite. I knew Trump before He took the throne. I was even a good friend of His."

She was taken aback by his use of Trump's name, instead of the customary title. "You... knew... Trump?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, Hillary, I remember the time you ran for President of the United States against Him."

"That was almost ten centuries ago! How could you... Are you a ghola too?"

"No, no, no. I helped develop the medical technology for gholas, though. It happened to be the same technology that let me be a shapeshifter. I am as immortal as Trump, but like Him, I gave up my humanity to be so. But I didn't do it originally to live forever. I did it to become a woman. For the second time. And the third time, and finally to surpass gender altogether."

Hillary felt disoriented from the emotional disturbance. "Bruce? Caitlyn?"

"I am known merely as 'Jenner' now."

She suddenly realized he wasn't wearing a mask. It was his real face.

The elevator slowed its downward path, then stopped.

"OK Hillary, let's go see what you need to see."

(to be continued)

Installments 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5 .

I believe the primary role of the state is to teach, train, and raise children. Parents have a secondary role. - Hillary Prima

Hillary the Ghola was suspicious. "Where are you taking me? What do I need to see?"

Jenner replied, "We are going to where you were born. Or, more correctly, where gholas are born. And what you need to see is what all the Hillarys have seen that made them understand what a true monster Trump is. Not just His outward form, but his inner self as well."

The elevator came to a slow stop. When they exited, Hillary smelled the antiseptic scent of a laboratory. She looked around at massive and gross biomechanical structures surrounding them.

She saw staff attending to the more mechanical sections of the room. They were wearing... was that what she thought she saw?

"Those are..."

Jenner spotted what Hillary was gawking at. "Oh, I forgot, it's been so long. Yes Hillary, those are Mickey Mouse ears."

She felt like she had parachuted into the nation of Crazyland, into Batshit Province, and landed in the main square of the capital city Bugfucking Insaneburg.

"This technology was pioneered by the Disney Company before it became the Disney Empire, which was conquered by Trump's armies in the Great Entertainment wars. They used it, or at least a primitive form of it, to create their pop music princesses. Britney Spears, Miley Cyrus, Hilary (hehe) Duff, and every other 'blonde slut' slave they had. Trump decided to let the staff keep their religious regimen in the Disney Empire, which included wearing the headgear. Helped calmed things down, you understand."

Hillary marveled at the story and how incredible it all was.

"This current body you inhabit was born from an axlotl tank," Jenner said. "But you have never been informed about what an axlotl tank is."

As Jenner led Hillary around parts of the veiny, fleshy, gray walls to other slightly smaller portions of the structures, it kept educating her. "You probably could have guessed that the axlotl tanks were giant artificial wombs from how their very purpose was described to you, and you possibly might have guessed that they were at least partially biological - I mean, we're dealing with fetuses and infants here; a completely sanitary mechanical environment wouldn't be suitable for such things. It has to be somewhat... messy."

They reached a large stretch of fabric. "But what you could not have guessed was that these are not giant artificial wombs."

Jenner pulled back the cloth.

"They are all too real. And they are attached to real women."

A grossly distorted face looked at Hillary with blind, discolored, skewed eyes. Hillary still recognized it, though.

It was Chelsea Clinton. Her daughter transformed into an enormously obese, immobile blob of female flesh designed for one thing and one thing only.

Trump, that ugly worm, had turned her daughter into a baby-making machine.

A moan started slowly in Hillary's throat and built in intensity until she was lying on the floor, screaming and screeching like an animal on fire.

Installments 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 .

What I'm doing is going to do some good. And we're going to change the world. - Bruce Jenner, before his first Transformation.

"Hillary? Hillary?"

She beheld the smoothly inhuman face of Jenner extremely close to hers when she came out of her hysterical stupor. "What happened?" Suddenly her memories of the last few minutes came back, jarring her to full consciousness. "Oh my God... What a monster... He... my daughter..." She felt faint again.

"Whoa whoa whoa. Let's not have a repeat of that, okay? But now you see."

She hesitated, then the anger boiled up. "Yes. I see now why... why He must... HE MUST DIE!"

Jenner put a finger to his lips and shushed her. "Quiet, now. You've got to be a little more subtle if you want to be successful."

Finally she began to calm down, to find her steely resolve. Some questions surfaced in her mind. "If you know what a monster he is, why haven't you tried to kill him?"

"Well, I don't have as much invested as you do. And not only that, He recognizes me no matter what shape I take. It's part of his genetics, the same part that turned him into the worm you see today. So, He has sworn to kill me on sight. I can't get close enough to do Him harm. However, He expects it from you, and He's arrogant enough to think you could never harm Him. And for many centuries, He's been right."

Her thoughts reeled. "Centuries? So there's been gholas the entire time since His Apotheosis?"

Jenner spoke in didactic tones as he slowly led her to a wall full of screens. "Yes, and your poor daughter is the way that you have lived for so long. The ghola technology requires shared genes, unlike regular cloning." The screens they halted in front of were divided into different images. Images of girls and women. "Look closely."

Hillary squinted, getting a better view of the screens. The girls and women in the screens... were all her. Young Hillarys, all of them. A loose count of them told her there were at least four dozen of them. "Oh... my... God... where..."

"This palace is very large. It's bigger than some number of city blocks back in Hillary Prima's day. Each of these gholas, like you did, has her own sizable living space."

Hillary's ambition found its base. She could improve everything for all of the inhabitants of this new universe in which she found herself. She and her continuous line of gholas could usurp the worm and bring about a glorious new age. A New Age of Hillary, thanks to her poor daughter, rest her soul. Her sacrifice would not be in vain.

If only Hillary had a weapon. "I need a gun, Jenner."

"Nooooo no no no, you've tried that a few times already. It has never ended well for you. You're going to need patience and a new approach."

She was thirsty for violence, but decided to hear Jenner out. "What do you propose?"

Jenner began weaving a plan as Hillary listened to him intently. "Okay, do remember the Huffington Post? Well, it's a little different now."

Installments 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 and 7.

I’m a registered Republican. I’m a pretty conservative guy. I’m somewhat liberal on social issues, especially health care, et cetera, but I’d be leaving another party, and I’ve been close to that party. - Trump, before the Apotheosis

The desert.

That's what most of the world had become, and in the middle of it was where Hillary the Ghola found herself at that moment, sweating and suffering.

She turned to the right at the giant obelisk and trekked what seemed like dozens of miles, per the directions given to her by Jenner. Several millennia ago, Hillary Prima knew the tower as the Washington Monument. Since then, though, it had been purchased by an entertainment megacorporation during the Entertainment Wars and had "The Huffington Post" carved upon its stone sides.

When she asked Jenner how she was going to get to the Post, considering it was in the former Washington D.C. and the God Emperor's palace was in the area previously named New York City, he told her about Trump's vast expansion of the subway system after the desert encroached, and how it now networked all over the North American hemisphere. Ironically enough, that old worm couldn't use the subway himself; he was much too large. But he could go amazing speeds in the sand, and was actually strengthened by the heat and grit.

So here she was, after exiting the subterranean transport and a long walk. All of the government edifices were razed, either by war or sand or a combination thereof. Her beloved White House was just a memory. Instead, she had finally arrived at the only thing left here, which had been built after her first incarnation had perished.

The Republican Memorial.

Hillary stood in front of a gigantic "W" that rose from the sand, built from stone and tipped with gold (or at least something that looked like gold).

God, how she hated that letter of the alphabet. It brought back so many bad memories.

However, those memories were important right now. According to Jenner, the Republican Memorial had been set up to pay tribute to each contributor to the God Emperor's Apotheosis by being, to quote Him directly, a "bunch of losers".

Each Republican that played a significant role in the Apotheosis of Trump was actually entombed here. All of the political Bushes - George H. W., George W., Jeb - along with the more valuable members of their staff - Donald Rumsfeld, Dick Cheney - were here. So was Ronaldus Magnus, but the God Emperor didn't consider him that much of a loser so he didn't get the prominence that the Bushes did. Another more reverent memorial was built for him on the other side of the continent.

Hillary turned to look behind her. Dust clouds in a line, approaching but still far off near the horizon. "Shit," she thought. "I don't have a lot of time."

Jenner told her of an opportunity to exact her vengeance on the worm and take her rightful place in the universe. Trump enjoyed zipping along the sand to periodically visit the Memorial, to gloat over His triumphs against the Republican party hacks. It so happened that His visit was to occur a couple of days after her clandestine meeting with Jenner.

2004. She remembered that year well, maybe not as well as the ill-fated 2008, but it was still a sad year for her and the Democrats. Jenner had cryptically mentioned the year to give her a clue about a weapon she could use against the God Emperor. What happened in 2004? Dubya got his second term. Why? What is so earth-shattering about 2004?

Dubya got his second term. His brother, Jeb the smart one, was a state governor at the time, damn them both. What was the state? Florida.

Florida.

Hillary the Ghola began frantically searching the mausoleums. She finally found the one she wanted, almost completely crumbled on one side and on the other it had been defaced thousands of years ago with a Darth Vader visage. But the name was still there - Richard Cheney.

She reached down into the rubble, moving debris as quickly as she could. There it was, a primitive mechanical heart, the secret one that had kept Cheney alive all of those years. She followed wires leading from it down, down.

And there it was. A metallic black rectangular box with several buttons and a large joystick, with the phrase "Weathertron XL 2000" emblazoned on the top front.

Just at that moment, while she examined it, she heard an all-too-familiar voice.

"Hillary! Old Crooked Hillary! What are you doing here, in the worst place you can think of, where all those eeeevil Republicans are? You just wanted to be here with a lot of losers, like yourself?"

Hillary turned to see the God Emperor's worm-face right next to hers, and two squads of Duck-Speakers parked alongside Him in fast desert vehicles. "I'm just taking in the view, Trump. Enjoying the scenery much like you do."

"Oh Hillary old girl, you're just a lying little loser liar. You got another SocMed gun hidden behind a grave here somewhere?" Trump peered at corners of the mausoleums.

"Oh no no no, Trump. I finally have something good for you. Take this."

She quickly punched the buttons on the Weathertron like it was an old Blackberry. The clouds suddenly darkened, and one could smell the moisture gathering.

The God Emperor looked appalled. "Oh... shit..." He began darting away from Hillary as quickly as He could. But not quick enough.

A torrential rain commenced, and the worm's carapace started falling off, exposing gore and flesh, which then liquified in the water. The Duck-Speakers looked on in horror as they were soaked by the downpour.

After He was thoroughly destroyed, Hillary spoke up. "Okay ladies. Meet your new boss. Haven't you always wanted to work for a woman?"

Installments 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 , 7. and 8

I suppose I could have stayed home and baked cookies and had teas. - Hillary Prima

It was Coronation Day.

The day that Hillary had been waiting to experience for over 10,000 years. The day she would take her rightful place as Empress of Humanity, the position she had been born to fill, born an almost infinite number of times. Her destiny was finally here, just within her hungry, yearning grasp.

She was painstakingly dressed by the attentive Duck-Speakers in the finest silk and satin, a glorious gown and train that almost glowed of its own accord. On her head rested the Crown of the Universe, made from the most precious and beautiful materials and jewels known to mankind. The radiance was blinding, like a multicolored sun had settled upon her head to announce her exalted status.

She held the Scepter of Authority, which gave her absolute power over every life in her new empire. It was adorned with exactly the same jewels and metals as the Crown. Even though it looked massive in her hands and had a decent heft to it, it was surprisingly well balanced and easy to wield.

Before her was the giant ceremonial chamber from the first gathering where the traitorous Duck-Speakers were so brutally executed. She had workmen make a few changes to it though.

There was a long, breath-taking staircase to show off the train of her gown and her glory as Empress when she waved to her subjects, smiling and expressing her approval of their adoration. She had the throne, which had been fabricated just for her, set at the bottom of the staircase at the same level as the audience, to show the peons that she could sympathize with their relatively unimportant lives and simple, childlike thoughts. See? I'm just like all of you! Except I'm not, I'm far, far above you intellectually, morally, and practically every other way, and I can do whatever I want to whomever I want whenever I want, you little smug shits!

And she would have that throne for all eternity, thanks to the ghola technology. When this body of hers grew weary of life, she could have a fresh new Hillary put right where she would be sitting in a few short moments.

Hillary the Ghola began to prepare for her ascent to the throne, which was physically a descent, but for symbolic reason only. She took a deep breath, and looked upon the loving faces of her attendants just before she slowly took center stage to bathe in the spotlights and draw the attention of awestruck observers.

As she walked to that place onstage, she saw something out of the corner of her eye backstage. A female figure - dressed in the same splendor as herself! Impossible. Then, she saw the face...

No. No no no no. It couldn't be! It could not be! But... it was! That round, chubby-cheeked face! Those full, pouty lips! That raven black short-cropped hair!

MONICA!

Hillary missed a step while not watching where she was going. She tilted, dropped her Scepter, began flailing. She went headfirst down the stairs, the first impact of her skull against the hard marble steps accented with a loud, sickening crack of her neck vertebra. Like a thrown ragdoll, she continued to tumble until she flopped onto the bottom surface. Her lifeless eyes stared upward at the figure walking carefully down the path where she fell. It removed the Crown from her disheveled hair and placed it on its own head. The Scepter was already in its fingers as it went back up to the top of the stairs.

There, the figure took a more familiar shape. The shoulders broadened. The height increased. Finally, the face took a more masculine tone.

It was Jenner, the shapeshifter.

He thought about what he had done to secure this throne - his throne. Advanced the medical technology used in the clone and ghola programs, using his wife's sister Kim Kardashian as biomechanical equipment to experiment with, to give himself shapeshifting powers.

Indirectly assassinated Trump, who had been for all intents and purposes invincible, by goading countless Hillarys to test His limitations and have her find weapons to exploit those limitations.

And just a few days ago, activated a little-known failsafe in the axlotl tank laboratory and the Hillary ghola rooms to burn them and purify them of all life. Microscopic life, and walking, talking life as well. Much like a very, very late term abortion, of sorts.

Now he waved to the enraptured crowd. A confused, enraptured crowd. And as he sat down and enjoyed the applause (though it was much less applause than he appreciated), Jenner knew he had brought about a new age. The age of the human ruler who possessed all of humanity's traits all in one body. Simultaneously male and female, once mortal but now immortal, with any color of skin or any shape he desired to take or wished to show his audience.

"I win", thought Jenner.

FIN

Hello there girlies and boy...ees...

Anyways, my wife the Duck Lady has finished up bundling the Seducing The Guardian series. I put it up on the site in a brand new section I created for you, our customers. I broke out the bundles into a separate section from all of the individual books, and I put a link to the section in the upper menu and the sidebar section list.

Mary Anne has also created paperbacks for most of the books now on Amazon's site. You see, a site called CreateSpace used to let you do that, but they got bought out by Bezos and his boys, so now Amazon is the one-stop shop for paperbacks and e-books.

Because of the dominance of Amazon, and the use of mobile devices in looking at webpages now, I have pretty much thrown away all of the old purchasing buttons and replaced them with much, much bigger Amazon buttons.

As an aside, I replaced all of the e-mail links with web forms, to keep the spammers away.

So check out all the new pages and see what you think.

And while you're at it, read my little sci-fi/political satire series, The God Emperor of Soon (links below).

Installments 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 , 7, 8, and 9.

Lauricella runs a goat rescue group called Goats of Anarchy in New Jersey. She thought the duck costume would look cute on her baby goats, especially the newest rescue goat named Polly. So she bought the costume and took it home, not thinking too much of it. Little did Lauricella know just how much Polly would love that duck costume.

So you can laugh while I write - check out the funny commercials in the video below. Foreign ads (those NOT from the US), include humor that our former PC sensibilities wouldn't allow. While I'm glad the PC culture is FINALLY on the way out - it'll take a while to exit. In the meantime, ENJOY!!

CBS News posted a piece discussing why romance generates derision along with sales. Romance is 30% of the overall literary market and is a Billion - with a "B"- dollar a year industry, largely created by women for women. And the women in this piece do a great job of explaining why. CBS talked with all these folks: Professor by day/ Romance writer by night Mary Bly (Eloisa James), Sarah Wendell (Smart Bitches) and Romance best-seller Beverly Jenkins. Their comments are experienced and astute.

My favorite is Mary Bly's note at the end - I've long maintained that the whole portrayal of "ripped bodices" and romance novels as demeaning women is wrong. They're all about female empowerment. In every romance, by the time the HEA arrives, the woman is in charge.

Check out this video as it's well worth your time.

Romance - the "Rodney Dangerfield" of Genres

You have to keep your duck clean. You wouldn't want a dirty duck. NOBODY likes a dirty duck!

Except my wife, maybe. But not the guy who made this video.

Mad Daddy here.

I do Facebook, mostly for extended family contact. But sometimes I see things that get me riled, because of how truly ignorant they are.

Now in this case, I'm not talking "ignorant" as in a euphemism for some sort of bigotry or other name-calling from a "progressive". I'm talking truly, utterly ignorant, as in the person in question doesn't really know what they're saying or asking for.

It was a tweet somebody shared on Facebook, pretty much implying that "YEAH THAT'S RIGHT YOU TELL 'EM, THAT TRUMP GRRRRRRRRR!!". Below is a screenshot:

Mr. Charles M. Blow and everyone who agreed with him don't understand federalism. The only political philosophy they seem to understand is that everything is supposed to come from the government - damn free markets, damn private enterprise, and most of all, damn all governments in charge of regions smaller than the entire nation, i.e. the Federal government.

Let's first unpack these actions for fact-checking, then critique the entire premise.

The Flint Michigan water crisis began in 2014, in the middle of President Obama's second term. Who was responsible for screwing up the water supply in the municipality? You'll never guess. It wasn't Obama. It wasn't the governor of Michigan either, believe it or not. It was... the city officials. I know, right? Weird, huh? City officials being responsible for... get this... THE CITY.

They were supposedly elected officials, by the way, and screwed things up by changing the water source to cut city costs. When, of course, the old source was fine and presented no problems.

The governor of Michigan, in which state the city of Flint is located, had to step in the next year and try to help by having the water source switched back to the old source. The damage, however was done. Thanks to a big news blowout because of activist groups and several "concerned" politicians, the Federal government then got involved.

The U.S. Congress allocated $120 million at the end of 2016, during President Obama's administration.

Since politicians are pretty much worthless as plumbers, the U.S. Congress didn't fix the pipes, the Michigan government didn't fix the pipes, and the city of Flint didn't fix the pipes. They took a huge chunk of taxpayer money, but in conclusion, the Flint city council was supposed to actually hire somebody to fix the pipes.

So is it Trump's fault? Shit no, Trump wasn't even being considered as a candidate in 2014.

Is it Obama's fault? No.

Is it any of the Feds' fault? No.

Is it Michigan's government's fault? Not really.

Now, as for the Syria bombing and the cost thereof, yeah, military weapons are expensive. But they're ready-made, used one time, and are BY DESIGN are not supposed to be constructive. It's not like we have to hire a bunch of guys to stand around the bomb site with sledgehammers and pound things into the dirt after dropping a bomb - the BOMB is supposed to do that.

Now that I've typed an essay that explains the differences between the two situations Mr. Blow mentions, let me show how ignorant he is on what he states.

IF we take Mr. Blow at his word, he wants the same people who dropped the MOAB to fix the pipes in Flint. The very same people who HAVE ALREADY ALLOCATED $120 MILLION OF OUR MONEY to do that very thing.

Given that, the government of the city of Flint and of the state of Michigan are useless, and should be replaced by the Federal government.

The same entity that was controlled by Obama when the Flint water crisis began, and the same entity that IS NOW CONTROLLED BY TRUMP.

And that's something I don't think Mr. Blow actually wants.