A word that has, sadly, gone out of style is “goof”. It is a useful word. Some might not know this, but Donald Trump has a Masters degree in Goofology from the University of Bullmanure in New York. He is a licensed goofologist and a very good one. To watch him in an official “goof off” with the lesser talented goofs who make up the Republican presidential field of candidates is to appreciate his amazing goofability. I remember being called a goof many times in my younger years, usually by other goofs, but I would give up my goofulosophy for good in the face of Trump’s complete and utter goof mastery. It’s enough to make you want to go back to just being an insufferable simpleton. But once you’ve gone full goof, there is no recovery. And I am not just goofin’ around about that.
©2016 Jim Hagarty
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Author: Jim Hagarty
I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.
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