Disneyland

Don't go to Disneyland on a summer weekend. If you do, you know what you'll see? A lot of people. Now, don’t get me wrong. I like people. As long as there’s an appropriate number of people for a particular thing. Disneyland is this thing where the appropriate number of people is 5,000, and the actual number of people is 100,000. That’s Disneyland on a summer weekend. The park is filled with way too many people. And most of them are in lines. It's just a bunch of people in a bunch of lines. And right when someone gets to the front of one line, he’s in the back of another line. Yeah. That's the scam Disneyland has going. There are no rides in between the lines. There’s no room for any rides, when 100,000 people are in the park.

If you’re one of 100,000 people in Disneyland, don’t get in the lines. Just spend the entire day hanging out with Donald Duck. Focus on Donald. Take some pictures with the guy, discuss politics with him, ask him for relationship advice. This is the ideal strategy for Disneyland when it’s got more than 5,000 people.

I went to Disneyland five years ago on a Saturday in July. Like a complete moron, I stood in a line holding my six dollar churro and eight dollar cotton candy. I waited in seven or eight back-to-back lines--and the last one took me out of Disneyland and to the Taco Bell across the street. They were like, "Welcome to Taco Bell. May I take your order?" And I said, "I want to ride the spinning teacups."

The point is, Disneyland should have a max capacity of 5,000 people. And no lines. They should replace all of their lines with waiting rooms. I’m not too into this whole line system. Lines are these things where you just stare at the back of some guy's head for an extended period of time. But waiting rooms are great. We need them at Disneyland. You go in one and say, "I have an appointment to ride Space Mountain." And they tell you, "OK. It'll be about 45 minutes." You sit down next to some other people, with a bunch of reading material on the table--most notably, People and US Weekly. You read a few issues, and you learn a lot about someone in the Kardashian family. And then you hear your name. "Albert Johnson. You're up. Space Mountain."

What a fantastic system. I should be running things at Disneyland, instead of Mickey Mouse. Mickey is the head honcho right now--and this mouse is out of control. He’s charging $100 a ticket! You know how much it would cost the Brady Bunch to go to Disneyland these days? $800. And that’s without Alice. If you want to bring Alice, that’s another $100. And knowing Mickey, he might charge Alice double. Just because he feels like it. That’s how Mickey does things. He’ll charge the nine person Brady Bunch $1,000 to enter DIsneyland.

And what about the musical group Kool & The Gang. You know how many members they have? If they want to go to Disneyland, that’ll run them 43 grand.

I’m telling you--no one from the 70s can afford to go to Disneyland. Not the Brady Bunch, not Kool & the Gang. Not even Sanford & Son. I know it’s just the two of them, Fred and Lamont Sanford--but we’re talking about two junkmen who live in Watts. They cannot afford $200 for one day’s worth of entertainment. If Fred wants to be entertained, he’ll have to go to the local pool hall and hang out with Bubba, Leroy, and Skillet. And as for Lamont, he’ll have to head over to Julio’s and hang out with his goat Chico.

Basically what I’m trying to say is, if you have no idea what I’ve been talking about over the last three paragraphs, maybe you need to go learn a few things about the years 1970 to 1979. You obviously don’t know a damn thing about the 70s.

President Trump and Food Fights

I’m a politically informed person. I know what’s going on politically. And here’s how I do it. I get 1% of my political news from TV, the radio, and the internet. And I get 99% of my political news by just listening to people. That's the key source. Actual people. Here’s how it works. One person tells me something like, "This guy, Donald Trump, this dictator, this racist warmonger, this non-recycler of bottles, did you hear what this fascist tyrant had the nerve to say yesterday?" Then a few hours later, someone else tells me, "President Trump, wow, he really loves his country, this man, this hardworking patriot, this relentless deporter of illegal immigrants, this economic genius, did you hear the brilliant thing he said yesterday?"

There it is.  News from people. Two different people relay information about what Donald Trump said yesterday. And then what I do is, I take the first person, and I take the second person, and I put them together in one room, and I have them fight for my entertainment. It’s great. It’s way better than those Floyd Mayweather fights that cost a hundred dollars on pay-per-view.

I seriously do try to get Trump haters together in the same room with Trump lovers. I’m not making this up. I’m constantly inviting those people over for dinner. I get three pro Trump people and three anti Trump people. And then at dinner, do you know what topic I bring up? Trump. I don’t even segue into it. I just bring it up out of nowhere. Some guy’s is like, “Can you pass the potatoes?” And then I tell him, “President Trump! What do you think of him?!” At that point, I kind of want to tell everyone, “Ladies and gentlemen. Live, in my apartment. Let’s get ready to rumble!”

I’m always hoping the Trump discussion will lead to a food fight. That’s why I serve potatoes instead of mashed potatoes. I want people to throw the potatoes at each other. Mashed potatoes are good for a food fight in a sitcom, like when you’re watching The Jeffersons, and George throws mashed potatoes at that honky Tom Willis. That’s great. But when I try to start a Trump themed food fight in my dining room, I want people throwing whole potatoes. Because this is the type of food fight where you want maximum violence.

So I serve potatoes and I bring up Trump. And you know who I don’t bring up? Lincoln. Because people have this tendency to agree when it comes to Lincoln. Have you noticed this? It’s hard to make people fight over Lincoln. Let me put it this way. If one guy says, “I like how Lincoln freed the slaves,” the other guy probably isn’t gonna reply, “He shouldn’t have freed any slaves! These damn abolitionists! They hate the Constitution!”

No one ever says that. So, the moral of the story is, if you want to have harmony at the dinner table, mention Lincoln. If you want have potatoes flying everywhere at the dinner table, mention Trump.