Dreaming

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

Last night I had a dream I was suddenly famous and a famous person was mad at me for some reason.

Now, since no one reads this blog besides the odd person here or there who either knows me or is interested in my crackpot life, I feel comfortable idly remembering something of note. Right before I went to Korea, I had a dream that I hung out with Rudy in New York City. It was weird. It was a weird feeling of thinking something was so absolutely true, only to wake up and discover I was living my usual crappy life.

It doesn’t mean anything. Just a stray dream.

V-log: ‘Sniglets’ (The End)

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

Unless something happens:

He was rich.
She was pregnant
End of story.

Ilana Glazer Or Phoebe Waller-Bridge Should Be The Next Bond Girl

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

I’m a big fan of the James Bond franchise. I always liked the opening scene of Moonraker when the space shuttle is stolen. I really like what they’ve done with Daniel Craig. He’s very modern, very of the moment, and has brought a new level of creative seriousness to what had been a rather campy series.

I’ve written some before about how I think Ilana Glazer would be a perfect Bond girl. She’s funny, smart and audiences would laugh and laugh as a strong, independent woman such as she inevitably fell for James Bond. I saw Solo today and it occurred to me that someone who might fit the part a little bit better is Phoebe Waller-Bridge. She has the same spunk as Glazer, but she’s British and the interplay between she and Craig would be sexy and funny. Both women are hot in an unconventional way that would bring a little bit of spark to the movie.

Shrug. No one listens to me anyway. But when they do, cool stuff happens.

#FOTUS: New York Magazine, Do Us A Solid & Explain Away That $1.6 Million NDA Payout

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

The case has gone cold.

The only way we will know what happened is if New York Magazine manages to publish a follow up, any follow up. But what’s the hook. What’s the angle? The cool kids say thank you very much Mr. Bumgarner, but you’re wrong. He was rich. She was pregnant. End of story.

If you can’t get Tom Arnold or some other person in the Trump-Playboy orbit to tell you what they know, eliminate the one thing you can’t explain away. The one thing that is driving me bonkers. The one thing that you have to wave your hand at and tell me I’m just an old ranting drunk who couldn’t get a gig as Crooked Media’s social media intern.

The $1.6 million.

Is that as enormous as I believe it is? Or is that standard for Bunny struck by a stray sperm in Beverly Hills by a rich fat fuck like Elliot Broidy? Find me someone who can tell me that that is, in fact, the case, then there’s no story. Everything holds up. Shera Bechard was randomly referred Keith Davidson by a friend because of his reputation doing sexual harassment cases and the like and Broidy went to Michael Cohen because he knew him through the RNC and he had an established reputation as a fixer.

He was rich.
She was pregnant.
End of story.

But…

What if you ask around with the people who would at least be able to, off the top of their heads, give you some sense of the relative size of that payout and they said — “That’s weird.”

Then someone, somewhere has some splain’ to do.

That’s your story. Simply explaining the significance of the determination that $1.6 million is an unusual sum is worth maybe 500 clickbait-ish words. You could get #FOTUS trending on Twitter for an afternoon, at least, and cause my Website to crash because everyone would suddenly be, at least momentarily, interested in all my ranting.

Then, if nothing else, you know to keep asking around. You know that, if nothing else, you’ll have an interesting story of how Keith Davidson and Michael Cohen are, despite how tight they are, felt gracious enough to give Shera Bechard an enormous payout. Maybe those two aren’t as bad as everyone says they are. They’re actually great guys who in a pinch put the needs of a Playboy Bunny ahead of the powerful, well-connected Elliot Broidy.

You take yourself wherever you go.

North Brother Island

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

Nothing’s going on.

Things are pretty sedate. I have to process that I got the #FOTUS theory all wrong. Everyone who has any clue about all of this tells me I’m wrong and if New York Magazine can’t find enough for a follow up, well, that’s all she wrote. I still don’t know what I got wrong other than the basic fact that he was rich, she was pregnant, end of story.

But that’s what happened.

There’s no buzz, no traction and obviously no active investigation. Everyone who has the means, motive and opportunity to know what happened obviously already does, leaving me, the rando crazy person scratching my head. Really, that’s the only reason at this point that I would want Stephen Colbert to get involved. Him doing a bit during his monologue about this theory would be enough to get the people not constrained by the NDA to slip us any proof that they have.

So I got it wrong. I admit that. I don’t know how, though. I don’t know what I misunderstood. It’s a surreal kind of thing when I feel I have a hang of what’s going on in the Big Black Void and yet everyone who has ventured into it come out saying it was Broidy.

He was rich.
She was pregnant.
End of story.

#FOTUS: Of Stephen Colbert & A Tipping Point

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

It’s becoming pretty obvious that there is no cover story.

Elliot Broidy was rich.
Shera Bechard was pregnant.
End of story.

There’s no active investigation. No buzz. No traction. So in all likelihood the who people would find out one way or another about this already know and this is going to fade out pretty quickly, if it hasn’t already. This is all a big misunderstanding and I can go back to my novel and looking for a job.

Having said that, Stephen Colbert is our last hope of the proof — whatever it may be — that Bechard had an affair with Broidy and not Trump will come out. It seems as though New York Magazine no longer can find anything to report on when it comes to this issue so that’s it. Our only hope is Colbert comes back from vacation and finds the theory interesting enough to at least make a joke or two about it in his opening monologue. But that’s extreme wishful thinking no my part.

The likelihood he would do that depends largely on another New York Magazine article. No new article, no momentum and this is over. The end.

I might be in an unique position to know one way or a another in the next day or so because it’s likely his writers and producers would come to this site looking for as much information on the #FOTUS theory as they can get. To date, I got nothing. So, this seems over.

He was rich.
She was pregnant.
End of story.

#FOTUS: The Unexpected Generous Nature of Michael Cohen & Keith Davidson

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

Elliot Broidy was rich.
Shera Bechard was pregnant.
End of story.

I accept that. There was no cover story. That’s what happened. But no one listens to me. I have no credibility and pretty much 10 people read this blog on any given day. So, I’m not really hurting anything to wast my time simply weighing the likelihood that Keith Davidson and Michael Cohen who are best buds and have a documented history of being in cahoots would not work together to make sure that Elliot Broidy didn’t have to pay too much.

Everyone but me seems to know something and it bothers me. Everyone is in on the secret but me. I hate that. But anyway, that must be what happened. There’s no active investigation. New York Magazine hasn’t managed to see any reason to publish a followup, so that’s it, right? I was wrong.

He was rich.
She was pregnant.
End of story.

V-Log: You Take Yourself Wherever You Go

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

Idle rambling

No Surprises

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

I don’t really believe in God, but I believe the universe is spooky. So spooky that it makes you wonder. I only even mention this because of what is not happening right now. Nothing spooky is going on. Things are pretty meh. If something dramatic was about to happen, something big, I would feel it. Weird, symbolic things would start to happen and that would make me anxious. But nothing is going on.

That leads me to believe I need to start working on my novel again, look for a job and work towards becoming a professional fashion photographer within, say, five years. Those are tangible things I can do to make my life better in a concrete way. Friday was the moment when it really hit home that the #FOTUS theory wasn’t going to pan out

He was rich.
She was pregnant.
End of story.

Right now, the only thing I have is the back of my mind is using some serious processing power on what doesn’t make sense and the implications of why these things don’t make sense. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories because I believe they’re the last refuge of the intellectually dishonest. but to simply dismiss the odd things you have to accept to believe the Fat Fuck Story is enough to at least give one pause for thought.

And,that, really is the only reason why I haven’t snapped out of this. But I have no facts and my personal life is complete flames so I have to stop wasting my time on this. I have to give up the ghost.

He was rich.
She was pregnant.
End of story.

Breathe deep the gathering gloom
Watch lights fade from every room
Bedsitter people Look back and lament
Another day’s useless Energy spent
Impassioned lovers wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love and has none
New mother picks up and suckles her son
Senior citizens wish they were young
Cold hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colours from our sight
Red is grey and yellow white
But we decide which is right
And which is an Illusion?
— The Moody Blues

V-Log: A Pedestrian Parable

by Shelton Bumgarner
@bumgarls

Just me rambling.