Last Saturday was a wonderful day.
People were actually dancing in the streets all over this great country.
A post on Facebook summed up what 74 million voters felt about Donald Trump:
LIVE YOUR LIFE IN
SUCH A WAY THAT
THE ENTIRE PLANET
DOESN’T DANCE IN THE STREETS
WHEN YOU LOSE YOUR JOB
Joe Biden, a decent man, proved that in 1946 Leo Durocher – the nasty manager of the first-place Brooklyn Dodgers – was wrong when he said that Mel Ott, the manager of the last-place New York Giants, was a nice guy, and “NICE GUYS FINISH LAST.”
Joe Biden is a nice guy who finished first and is our new president, despite the last lie that Trump is telling his 70 million followers.
Trump always knew that the write-in and mail-in vote was going to kill him.
And no, you cannot fix millions of votes. And yes, I believe that Joe Kennedy and Mafia boss Sam Giancana fixed the vote of one county outside of Chicago to steal the presidency in 1960 and screw Richard Nixon, but that was a few hundred votes, not a few million votes.
And so the dancing in the streets on Saturday and Sunday was beautiful to watch.
The last time I saw people dancing in the streets the way they did last Saturday was when I was eight years old in 1945 celebrating the end of World War II.
I was with three of my little friends and we were kneeling and hiding behind two empty garbage cans watching the festivities.
One of my friends said, “The big kids are throwing rocks.”
“Who’s throwing rocks?” I asked.
“Tarzan,” was the answer.
Tarzan was Anthony Napoli, who was a big kid, age 15. They called him Tarzan because he had the limited vocabulary of Johnny Weissmuller in the Tarzan the Ape Man movies.
Napoli never wore a shirt. He was bare-chested even in the winter and he would, without warning, let out a frightening shriek, “OOOOO-IT-OOOO,” which was what Tarzan Weissmuller called to his elephants when he was in trouble.
Since there were no elephants on West 7th Street, Anthony Napoli’s shriek was usually greeted with a string of Italian curses from some of the older residents of the street.
“Tarzan?” I said.
“Yes, watch out,” said my friend Junior Fossati.
“Where?” I asked, rising up to see Tarzan throwing rocks and bricks to celebrate.
The second I got up a rock thrown by Tarzan hit me on the forehead.
Twelve stitches later, at Coney Island Hospital, I became at the age of 8 the last casualty of World War II.
What follows is a “Jerry’s Ink” I wrote a few months ago. Please read it again. It’s rare that I can so accurately predict the results of anything.
Maybe I have a future as the only accurate pollster in the United States.
NOVEMBER 3RD, THE GREATEST DAY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.
A day when there was dancing in the streets.
Strong men cried with joy.
Strangers hugged and kissed each other in every town in the USA.
There were shouts of “We got him!” “We got him!” “We got him!” “He can’t hurt us anymore!”
The New York Times, for the first time in its history, ran a front page without a single word – just a picture of their savior, a smiling Joe Biden.
Facebook had a trillion happy posts about our new president.
There were rumors – oh God, there were rumors.
“He’ll never concede. He’ll never concede.”
And of course there were the “They Sayers.”
“They Sayers” are people who always sound as though they’re “in the know” because they start every sentence with “They Say,” citing a mysterious source only known to them.
“They Say that in the end, at 3 a.m., when he lost the state of Wisconsin by 84 votes, Trump shouted ‘I will show them all.’ Then he ran towards the Secret Service agent who was holding the red-button football that can, with the press of a button, start a nuclear war.”
No one knew who “they” were.
Was it China … Russia … California …
But the world was saved when Mike Pence, the vice president, dropped the president with a single punch.
Mike Pence? Mike Pence saved the world?
Who knew?
Turns out Pence, who had cleared it with Jesus, had met in secret with the Secret Service for months and decided to keep an eye on the president, who was acting even more irrationally than usual.
When Pence decked the president, nine Secret Service men jumped on the president, who was screaming out state secrets and saying, “I’ll get the Army … I’ll get the Navy. This is war. I’ve got 70 million people on my side and most of them have guns.”
It was then decided that Trump should be put in an iron mask and kept in the basement of the White House until after the Biden inauguration.
Turns out Trump wasn’t paranoid. Everyone was out to get him.
By 6 p.m. on November 3, when most of the polls were still open and 60 million mail-in votes had not been opened, Trump had a good idea that most of the media was united against him.
That is when Dixville Notch, New Hampshire, population 12, which has been the first to send in their election results in the USA since the1950s, announced their result.
It was Biden 7 votes, Trump 5 votes.
Within minutes the New York Times, CNN, CNBC, AP, NBC, CBS and ABC all announced that as a result of this early voting return they were calling the race for the 2020 presidency as a win for Joe Biden.
The election of Joe Biden had special meaning for so many people.
“Happy news is here again” was being sung in the halls of the New York Times and every reporter had their thesaurus out, searching for positive adjectives which would cover their description of the Joe Biden presidency over the next 1,460 days. Many went back to the positive coverage of the Jimmy Carter presidency for reference.
Charles Schumer and Nancy Pelosi announced that their hatred of Donald Trump had brought them together and they planned to leave their spouses and get married.
They wanted Joe Biden to marry them in the White House. Naturally he agreed.
Iran was the first country to congratulate President Biden and asked him to send a plane filled with billions of dollars to renew the deal that was made by Barack Obama. Naturally Joe Biden agreed.
Bill de Blasio sent a note by way of Chuck Schumer to the new president. It read: “Well, I did it. I delivered New York to your presidency. It seems to me delivering 29 electoral votes to your victory should get me a job in your administration. I want to be your new Secretary of Defense, or my wife and I would be perfect running the Department of Health and Human Services. Of course I’m open to being your Ambassador to France or Great Britain.” Reluctantly Joe Biden named de Blasio Ambassador to Slovenia.
AOC (Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez) cornered Joe Biden during the celebration of the election results and threatened him. She said, “Joe, you own the old people. I own the young people. I want to be in charge of the payment of reparations to Blacks and Hispanics for the sins that were committed a hundred years ago. Unless you get me 2 trillion dollars for reparations I will unleash a series of what the New York Times calls ‘peaceful protests’ that will loot and burn down the 35 largest cities in the United States. I don’t care where you get the money. Take over and sell Amazon and Apple to the Chinese. Plus, I want an official apology by Democrats for calling me ‘stupid.’ Fearfully Joe Biden agreed.
Sadly there’s always one lousy fly in the ointment.
Tracy Moskowitz, a 22-year-old who worked hard campaigning for Joe Biden and was now sure of a minor job in the White House, spent election night alone in her tiny room in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. She was on page 10 of her first book, a tell-all to be titled “First Joe Biden Caressed My Hair Then He Said Softly, ‘Listen Kid’.”
Note: Despite a negative review by the New York Times, the book, which was loved by a Wall Street Journal review, would be a best-seller for 51 weeks, selling over 3 million copies. Ms. Moskowitz is currently working on her next book, to be titled “I Thought Mike Pence Was Asking Me To Get On My Knees To Pray.”
THE BEAT GOES ON
The beat goes on, the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da
Charleston was once the rage, uh huh
History has turned the page, uh huh
The mini skirts, the current thing, uh huh
Teenybopper is our newborn king, uh huh
And the beat goes on, the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da
The grocery store’s the super mart, uh huh
Little girls still break their hearts, uh huh
And men still keep on marching off to war
Electrically they keep a baseball score
And the beat goes on, the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding a rhythm to the brain
La de da de de, la de da de da.
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