
There is no truth to the rumor that Bashar al-Assad resigned as president of Syria to become CEO of UnitedHealthcare.
Please continue to hold. Your call is important to us. (Cue Paul McCartney’s “Wonderful Christmastime.”)

The whole “Your Daily Don” thing never really took off, did it?
Honestly, the less I think about Darth Cheeto and his new droid, Clockwork Orange, the happier I seem to be.
Speak of the devil and he appears, as the saying goes. So let’s not and hope he doesn’t.
There are other ways to pass the time. Jogging. Hiking. Cycling down to the bosque to gauge the color of the cottonwoods (not quite spectacular yet).
And reading about the newish editor and vice president of the Albuquerque Journal, who apparently is doing 10 days in the clink on a shoplifting rap.
Whatever is the world coming to? I’m old enough to remember when only reporters, photographers, and copy editors were so poorly paid that they had to steal to make ends meet.
The Journal may be so hard up it can’t even afford a poorly paid copy editor. My tribe goes unmentioned in the “Contact Us” section of the Journal‘s ghastly website, though I found a “design desk” with four people on it, or under it, depending on whether they’re still sharp enough to steal booze. And two assistant city editors but no actual city editor. Maybe s/he’s in jail too.
That the Journal apparently has no copy desk wasn’t news to me. Not after I saw the story refer to Patrick Ethridge as “editor in chief”, “executive editor,” and “Executive Editor” (in the “Contact Us” lineup, Ethridge is called, simply, “editor”) and report that he was serving “10 days” or “ten days” in the calaboose.
These are peccadillos that even the most poorly paid, knee-walking-drunk, one-eyed copy editor could catch on the first pass through the story from underneath the design desk between attempts to grope one or more of the designers. When one sees these tiny turds floating in the bowl one wonders what monstrosities lurk beneath.
Did anyone else think of Pappy O’Daniel when Chuck Schumer shimmied onto the DNC stage last night?
We caught some of the opening acts, but faded early, which was too bad. Because it sounds like it was Michelle Obama who packed her dancing shoes. And her stage was Jesus Hitler’s withered orange nutsack.

A tip of the Mad Dog’s ACME sun helmet goes out to Khal S. for finding this bit of signage along the Rail Trail in Fanta Fe.
With New Mexico being a hotbed of TV/film activity, I immediately wondered whether it had something to do with Warner Bros. shelving its live action/animation combo “Coyote vs. Acme” — and taking a writedown for shitcanning the $70 million feature — rather than simply letting it run heedlessly off a cliff, stop in midair, and hold up a sign that reads, “Yikes.”
I guess we’ll never know. That’s all, folks!