I don’t even know where to begin describing how much this song bites, but let’s go with the obvious — the leering hornball trying to seduce his prey. Whenever I hear this seasonal salute to date rape all I can picture is a beer-breathed, pot-bellied aging Lothario trying to pick up an extremely uncomfortable girl half his age.

Cue skin crawling.

And this hapless and obviously clueless young lady is in deep doo-doo because she strongly suspects he put something in her drink.

Giggity.

Wait, what?

This dude should be doing time for assault, not trying to roofie the ladies so he can force his Yule Log on them. …

Here's the deal.

From this point on, I won’t vote for any candidate seeking higher office running on the Democratic ticket. They will not get my support for any reason, no matter who the candidate is.

Yes, that includes Nina Turner.

“But why, Kathy? I thought you loved Nina?”

Because, sooner or later, you need to walk away from one-sided, abusive relationships. And it’s already way past later.

The Democratic Party cannot be rehabilitated.

I repeat, the Democratic cannot be rehabilitated.

Democrats wouldn’t know a fair primary election if it bit them on the bum. Your vote equals jackshit and the DNC openly admits this. Backroom deals are just part of their charter, and they reserve the right to ignore the will of the voters by installing their own hand-picked candidate. …

After the Revolutionary War, George Washington eagerly awaited a quiet retirement as a gentleman farmer in Virginia. But this was not to be, as he was repeatedly called back to serve the needs of the infant nation he helped create.

When he was called to serve as the United States’ first president in 1789, Washington said on April 16 of that year, “my love of retirement is so great, that no earthly consideration, short of a conviction of duty, could have prevailed upon me to depart from my resolution ‘never more to take any share in transactions of a public nature.” …

“Let not your spirits be cast down, for I hope we shall see one another in a better place, where we shall be free to live and love in eternal bliss.”

— Sir Thomas More

Henry VIII was notoriously volatile, and it wasn’t just Henry VIII’s wives that bore the brunt of his ire. His closest pals also met untimely ends for rubbing His Majesty the wrong way. One of the most unexpected was his lifelong friend, confidante, and champion, Sir Thomas More.

Born in London in 1478, Thomas studied Law after serving as a page to the Archbishop of Canterbury. More showed remarkable proficiency as a scholar, studying Latin, Logic, History, Mathematics, and French. In 1497, More met renowned scholar and humanist Desiderius Erasmus. …

Between the 11th and 17th centuries, countless people took part in manic bouts of dancing and unseemly behavior lasting for weeks on end. Referred to in the world of abnormal psychology as St. Vitus’ dance, it’s defined as group hysteria by those feeling overwhelmed by the many stressors of their times.

(Anybody feels like dancing?)

People would rip off their clothes and run naked through the streets, screaming, wailing, and laughing hysterically. Women would howl like wolves while making obscene gestures, and others would squeal like pigs. Some would roll in the dirt or beg to be hit on various parts of their bodies. …

To preface my rant(that has been simmering for weeks), let’s begin by reviewing what the word Progressive actually means, shall we? And before the Brunch Bunch goes into pissy-hissy mode, keep in mind this isn't my definition of what Progressive politics should look like; it’s the damn dictionary:

PROGRESSIVE: favoring or advocating progress, change, improvement, or reform, as opposed to wishing to maintain things as they are, especially in political matters: a progressive mayor. (Dictionary.com)

OK.

Got it?

Yes?

Then you understand the non-biased, textbook definition of “progressive” is the complete antithesis of President-elect Biden’s promise to his corporate overlords that “nothing will fundamentally change,” right? No room or need for debate here. …

Although the English Peasant’s Revolt in 1381 seemingly began without warning the seeds of discontent were sown many years beforehand. The Black Death during the earlier part of the 14th century caused a serious shortage of workers, giving the peasant class the option to choose where they worked — a freedom that was unheard of in feudal society.

Fearful that the serfs would refuse to work their lands, many lords gave the peasants their freedom and paid for their labor. …

Sadie Hawkins’ Day, which evolved into an American folk-holiday, doesn’t originate from a dance at all, but rather from a fictional race. Much like the Great Pumpkin, Sadie is a pop-culture phenomenon spawned from what we old folks used to call the Funnies.

Sadie was the product of cartoonist Al Capp’s fertile imagination. She was a character in his popular cartoon “Lil’ Abner” set in the hillbilly town of Dogpatch. The strip began its wildly successful 40-year run in 1934.

The way Al tells it, Sadie was the daughter of Hekzebiah Hawkins, one of the town’s first settlers, who had the dubious distinction of being the “homeliest gal in all them hills.” …