Mephistopheles and Mirrors

 I've spent a few hours today watching some episodes of Dynasty: The Murdochs on Netflix and wondering when is that scabrous old fuck Rupert going to cark it. He's probably entered some Faustian bargain, which seems difficult since he's also the embodiment of Mephistopheles. It's kind of like the miller's daughter and Rumpelstiltskin turning out to be one and the same, only with a biased media corporation whose minions think it's okay to hack the voicemail of murdered kids, rather than some old turd of a king who expects straw to be spun into gold. I'm no alchemist, but I'm pretty sure you can't turn straw into gold. 

I've also been wondering whether there are any mirrors in the White House. What's aroused my curiosity is the mind-bogglingly ludicrous rant posted by Trump on his favourite social media platform wherein he described Bruce Springsteen as resembling "a dried up prune." No, I'm not making that up. Nobody who resembles a desiccated cumquat topped by a thatch of dried corn silk would have the temerity to compare another human being to a piece of dried fruit if said cumquat had access to a working mirror. From this, I can only assume there are no clean or functional mirrors in the White House. 

I am also wondering if there should be some kind of training course for incumbent presidents of the US, one that features a unit on how to cope if an artist expresses disapproval of you. I can suggest this rudimentary lesson:

1. Remember you are supposed to be a world leader and have more pressing issues about which to be concerned.

2. If you're going to sook about it in an unprofessional and hypocritical manner, resign your position because you are clearly unsuited if you cannot handle another person's opinion of you. 

3. Change your tampon. 

4. Avoid posting petty whines on social media. This does not matter if you are sitting up in a four-poster bed, sitting behind your desk, or sitting on a gold-plated toilet: just do not do this. *

5. Resign anyway. You are a bloated moribund sunfish, with the IQ and emotional intelligence of said creature. 

* Gold for a toilet? Maybe that imp from the Brothers Grimm could come in handy after all; just bring along a bale of hay.

Anyway, I might crank up some Springsteen now.