Hail to the Tweety Pie

No one has more respect for Donald Trump than I do. Really. No one does. Think about that.

Let me rephrase that.

No one has more respect for Donald Trump than I do, and I hate the S.O.B.

That’s not quite it, either. Let me try again.

Thanks to the internet, we can bypass the failing Faux News and go directly to the Trump reality show, and see his patient diplomacy, his bold new approach to women’s rights, and his deft handling of the serious business of nuclear war with North Korea and to Russian spying.

This concludes our introduction.

As a former editor of daily newspapers in Texas and California and a foreign correspondent, I have thought long and hardly, I mean hard, about these issues.

I believe I can sum it up, better than it ever has been summed up, or down, like this:

When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to …


Where did that come from?

It just popped into my head!

I must have a huge, tremendous talent to come up with something like that!

Let’s see: 11 words, 37 letters, add the spaces — 58 characters. How many do you get in a tweet? 140? That gives me … 62? (“Staff!”) OK, 72 more letters, minus the spaces. TwittershoulddowhattheancientRomansdidandletyouwritewithoutspacessoyoucouldgetmorestuffintoatweetbecauseyouwouldn’twastespaceoncraplikethis.

Wow! 140 on the dot. Counting the period!

Hell of a tweet!


I must have a talent for this!

If only there were a way I could use my tweetiness to win money, fame and power.

Or at least publicity.


This concludes our transition.


You may not know that I am the Father of the Internet.

Oh, yes.

Or, actually, no.

Technically, that was another Robert Kahn, who is still alive, unfairly, at 78. Not that much older than I am. But that’s beside the point. And what is the point?

It’s that Robert Kahn is so unfair to the president — and to me, personally — by not dying. Yet.


Just because some guy stole my name by being born 13 years before me, to different parents in a different place, and got a Ph.D. in electrical engineering from Princeton —precisely when I was initiating my studies upon the alto saxophone and cannabis sativa — why should he get all the credit for the internet?


I think not.

And why is this so-called Robert Kahn still alive, far beyond his Biblically allotted years?

Were he dead, Robert Kahn could not sue me for slander or libel, should I slander or libel him — which I have not done!


Because you cannot hurt the dead.

So unfair!


Now we come to the coda.

No one has more respect for Martin Shkreli than I do. And I have no respect for him at all.

(This column was approved by guest editor Capt. Spaulding, the African explorer.)

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