Richard Crowson Commentary

Politicians can run but they cannot hide from political cartoonist (and banjo player) Richard Crowson and his watchdog, Al. Tune in on alternate Wednesdays to hear the latest.

Richard's commentary can also be heard through iTunes. Listen or subscribe here.

Here’s hoping Governor-Doctor Jeff Colyer will change his mind about a vital topic:

Doctor, there’s people in our state
That need expanded Medicaid, without insurance
What are they supposed to do?
150,000 more
They’re among the working poor who need some help
Doctor, please, won’t you come through?

Doctor Colyer
Kansans are hurting and afraid
They could get a cure if you would expand Medicaid

Maybe I’m weird. But it seems to me there is an awful lot of dystopian entertainment out there these days. Everybody who makes movies that deal with the future seems to think we ain’t seen nothing yet.

Either apes or robots or aliens or cruel gargantuan corporations or, I don’t know, maybe vegans are going to take over. Even the weather’s going to be horrible. Corruption and oppression will reign supreme. Disneyland’s “Carousel of Progress” theme song, “There’s a Great Big Beautiful Tomorrow” is going to be replaced by something like “Life Sucks and Then You Die.”

I’m worried about the the Wichita city flag. It’s beautiful. It instills civic pride. And it’s more popular than sliced bread, "Game of Thrones" and cat videos all combined. You can buy t-shirts with the Wichita flag on them at the grocery store. It’s on socks and skateboards and murals. Every other car, mine included, has either a Wichita flag license plate or window sticker on it. Recently there was an unveiling of city street sweepers emblazoned with giant painted Wichita flags.

Oh, my goodness! Can that year finally be over? Whew! Bet you never thought we'd get here! But the good news is we survived!

So many weird and off-the-wall events took place... it just seems like it would never end. So here we are at the start of a brand new year. Let's all raise a glass and cheer the end of that wild and crazy 2018! 

Poor Governor Sam Brownback - stuck in limbo as he awaits Senate confirmation of his appointment as Ambassador of International Religious Freedom. Hapless Sam is finding himself jerked around by the Washington political process.

‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the White House
Not a creature was colluding, not even his spouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Vladimir soon would be there;
When out on the lawn there were TV crews,
And Trump sprang from his bed to check out the fake news.
When what did his wondering eyes see below,
But nineteen #MeToo victims all in a row.
Congressional women for his resignation did call;
Trump screamed, “Dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

In the first month of Trumpsmess the lie he told to me:

Tucked between the season of ghostly screams and the season of 20-megaton "Ho Ho Ho's" is the quiet, contemplative holiday: Thanksgiving.

Here’s a little tune The President is singing these days:

Strangers in the night - Who’s this Paul Manafort?
George Papadopoulos??? - Not heard that name before
Rick Gates rings no bell, They’re all unknown to me
I know I once bragged that my memory was bigly
But that was before Bob Mueller came after me
Wish that he would go
And bother Hillary

There are certain sacrifices a parent makes for their young children. Often we don’t even view it as a sacrifice, so devoted are we to our offspring. But every now and then there are moments of parental dread when a particular chore for our child must be undertaken.

So it was for me, many years ago, when my daughter was 9. It was about this time of year when she looked at me with the sweet charm of childhood expectation glowing in her eyes and she uttered those words that I had so hoped she would not.

“Daddy, are we going to do a jack-o’-lantern this year?”

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