Scoundrel Time

Entertainment

Donald Trump Addresses the Girl Scouts

  Thank you. Thank you. I’m thrilled to be here, thrilled. Fantastic. I should say Toffee-Tastic. (LAUGHTER) That’s a Girl Scout cookie, and I love those cookies. Thin Mints. I could eat them all day. You know, some Girl Scouts came to the...

Neo(Trump)ologisms for 2017

  1)    Trumpe l’oeil: When you can’t believe the shit you’re seeing. 2)   Trumple: To stamp all over with the jackboots of ignorance; e.g., “The reporter was thrown to the ground and trumpled.” 3)   Trumpolining. When you bounce from one...

Food & Drinks

Trumpoems

  Note: When he sent us these “Trumpoems,” Joshua Weiner noted that “They are made from the President’s own words, mostly. They are terrible, but are they terrible enough for these times?” Can’t Touch This If Ivanka weren’t my...

Poems by Paul Otremba

The Representatives   When they showed up at my ready door, it was their taste for flesh that misled me, and it was a picture produced later that confirmed what provisional and corrupt intelligence we’ll go on, and successfully. They were not...

Lifestyle

How It Ends: Wonderland/Wasteland

I was raised by a father who self-described as a “realistic optimist” and a mother who oscillated between bracing for the apocalypse and buying outfits for the award ceremony. So it’s no surprise that my own predictive tendencies are tangled up in...

How It Ends: Follow the Money

A few years ago I read a biography of Al Capone. I learned a lot about him. He was a good dancer. He had tertiary syphilis that probably caused his erratic mood swings. He grew up a block away from me in Brooklyn. When he got to Chicago, his...

Latest articles

How It Ends: After Trump

Come and see. A red-haired woman dances barefoot on the asphalt on one side of the street. An elderly man with a cane tries to keep up with her and bursts into laughter as he almost loses his balance. Two olive-skinned young men make music with...

How It Ends: The House

The sponge on the counter reeks faintly and the kitty-cat clock is stuck at 10:05, such a non-time, morning or night, it doesn’t matter. The whole house is like a bad belly, swollen with gross nostalgia: the old-timey radio, the Formica table, the...

How It Ends: Unspeakable

I told Ina I would never speak to her again. We had been friends of a sort since our twenties—hung out in the same bars, showed up at feminist rallies and marches together—but she was increasingly one of those politicos who find fuel for neurotic...

How It Ends: Inside the Trump Museum

It’s afternoon outside the Trump Museum, and a small crowd of people has entered the park gates and are surging toward the left entrance. There are always so many more people when the Women’s Brigade are in charge of security, recognizable by their...

How It Ends – Or Doesn’t

How is the ongoing shitstorm that is Donald Trump’s administration going to end? Though everyone on earth has noted his unpredictability, his year in office may have established, paradoxically, that it’s not so hard to predict where Trump himself is...