Why does Trump Have A Problem With Women?

Screen Shot 2016-03-14 at 9.25.19 AMIt’s a scene that can be played out on televisions everywhere:

Child enters the room (waaay past her bedtime) and in the most adorable of ways drops this little gem:

“Daddy, what’s a b*#ch?”

Dad knows the drill all too well, giving his wife the “it wasn’t me” look while hoping to God the child didn’t hear it from him.

“Where did you hear that word?” Dad asks, demanding an answer, but not really because there lies the very real possibility that one simple word will basically guarantee the panicky father many nights in the doghouse:


Cue the lame laugh track.

Thanks to Donald Trump and his sad trail of misogyny, degradation of women and racism (to name a few of his deplorable qualities), dads like the example above now have the ultimate scapegoat. See how differently the scene plays out when you apply the Trumped Up, Trickle Blame Down method to such a scenario:

Cut to child entering the room.

“Daddy, what’s a b*#ch?”

Dad gets angry, looks at mommy.

“You see! This is what happens when we let the kids watch Trump debates! He’s starting to rub off on her!”

Dad leaves room in disgust (a brilliant move in the event dad wants to laugh). Dad then opens the fridge (looking for a beer):

“That’s another reason we’re not voting for Trump!” he yells at the grapes.

All joking aside, this isn’t some made-up television show with a fake laugh track. This is real. And based on last Monday night’s debate performance, Trump’s a guy that’s unprepared, unrefined, unfiltered and unfocused. Hell, he may have spent more time talking about a woman’s weight and (I can’t believe I’m typing this) Rosie O’Donnell than to better explain his policies that would “Make America Great Again.”

“Why is that man so angry?” my 4-year-old asks, staring at the Dorito-faced man with the feathered front comb over.

“The woman in red is kicking his, uh, is much smarter than he is and it makes him angry.” My God, it’s starting to rub off on me!

Any child will ask a ton of questions. But what happens when my older daughters start asking tougher questions. Like, “What is the big freaking deal with Trump and women? Why does he seem to have a *problem with us?”

*There are 134,000,000 search results when you Bing the following phrase: Trump’s Issues With Women.

I might not be the smartest parent in my house, but I’m pretty sure about this: I wouldn’t want anyone, much less a presidential candidate, talking about one of my daughters the way Trump has talked about some women. In a world rife with bullies, body shaming and perverted Internet trolls, hearing Trump describe former Miss Universe Alicia Machado as Miss Piggy, Miss Housekeeping or an eating machine makes my skin crawl.

Realize, people, that I’m not even talking about his politics. And for Trump, that’s a huge problem. It’s a problem because that’s what we should be discussing. Instead, he’s citing phony polls, defending his actions and threatening to bring up Bill Clinton’s infidelities as a way to play mind games before the next debate.

And for some odd reason we continue to give him a free pass for this odd behavior/strategy. What if we all took a page from Donald and applied his Trumped Up, Trickle Blame Down method for all of our discrepancies?

  • Your daughter learned a new cuss word because you didn’t change the channel from Howard Stern? Blame it on satellite radio technology!
  • Don’t want to pay your Federal taxes? Disagree with how the government uses the money and don’t pay!

You see, by applying the Trumped Up, Trickle Blame Down method, you can skirt any issue and deflect the way Donald has his entire career. With enough practice, you, too, may find yourself blaming a microphone, a mean debate moderator, a Mexican-American judge, the liberal media, etc.

Believe me, this is not an endorsement for Hillary Clinton as much as this is an appeal for decency and respect. Want to know why Trump has dragged this election into the pits of Kardashia? Because we’re suckers for this type of content, that’s why. We’re a growing population of timeline-scrolling zombies with the attention spans of cats on crack. We’re fascinated with wreck on the side of the road, which is why so many people watched last Monday’s debate – we were waiting for the wreck and Trump came through!

Many people feel that we don’t have quality candidates this election cycle. My response is, uh, yeah, we actually did. But we sold ourselves short by choosing the entertainment value of a Trump candidacy over qualified candidates who actually respected the office they were seeking.

If we want better candidates, then we have to be better, too. And it starts at home with me. You. We try and teach our kids right from wrong and that doing the right thing is important. We want them to treat others the way they expect to be treated. And that includes the way this dad wants his daughter’s to be treated.

It’s hard to take a candidate and his policies seriously when he can’t seem to take women seriously.

Dorito-faced man in suit enters the Oval Office, sits on gold-plated chair.

“I asked you to bring me my coffee, you fat cow,” Trump barks.

Enter a panting Chris Christie holding a coffee cup. He stares off into the distance, wondering how a once-promising career led him to be Donald Trump’s b*#ch.

Cue sad music. Fade to black.

New book – Pancakes For Dinner! (Waldorf Press) – out September 15, 2017. Follow me on Twitter @phillipdcortez


Dear Matt Forte…

“It’s an honor to play for such a great owner,” Forte didn’t say.

We’ve started our 2016 Fantasy Football campaign on the right track, despite a Week 1 loss to something called Oprah’s Circle. And even though you hardly played in the pre-season, you’re over 30-years-old and toting the rock with a new team, the 915 Ballers are looking to devastate the league this season, led, of course, by you. And me.


Week 2’s tilt versus some team called Year of the Raging Chinamen has our squad up a fat 28 points heading into Sunday. If only I could have picked you up in the other fantasy football league I got suckered into joining (even though my team did manage to beat Kiss My Big *I Can’t mention the rest of the name because you and I are decent men of faith and esteem but it rhymes with Lass), the victory would have been sweeter with you in my lineup.

Thursday was a thing of beauty, you scampering through a porous Buffalo defense en route to 100 yards and three TDs – me with the foresight and cunning to insert you into the lineup.

Can you believe that this is my 20th year playing fantasy football? It seems like only yesterday that I was fidgeting with a team that featured one of your New York Jets predecessors, Curtis Martin. Curtis took me to the playoffs that year – here’s to you doing the same! Together we’re going to beat the likes of the Saltydogs, Yeehawks, Scout Snipers and my brother, Paul’s stupid team: Lick My (And once again, I apologize for his vulgarities, but it rhymes with Malls).

As I reflect on the last 20 years I recall the people who called me and my friends, nerds and dorks and all kinds of names because of our passion for sports. Today the very same people that labeled us are now playing against us, as millions of people throughout the world, from CEOs to porn stars, are playing fantasy sports. Matt, my mother is playing in our league (and I’m too embarrassed to tell you her team’s name).

In essence, Matt, I’d like to think that we were ahead of the curve, trailblazers with foresight – personally I forget my kids’ names at least 20 times a day but ask me who still holds the rookie rushing title set in 1983 and that would be one Eric Demetric Dickerson, thank you very much.

So much has changed in my life since that very first fantasy draft, Matt. Technology has evolved (we don’t need an abacus to figure out scores anymore), the guys in the league are separated by many miles and even oceans but we still manage to talk as much smack to each other in our 40’s (and 50’s Keith Garcia) as we did when we were teenagers going to college in Honolulu.

We’ve managed to weave our league into our every day lives during the season, something that takes skill and moxy. In 1999 while living in San Francisco, I dated a girl with big toes for thumbs (I found it intriguing at the time) that absolutely hated my involvement in the league. So I faked a stomach virus and many “trips to the bathroom (laptop)” for an entire weekend just so I could get through the draft that season. It was the same girl that shared my desire to never have children. Today, I stopped counting after my wife and I gave birth to our fifth child. Or is it four? Anyway…

You know, Matt, I used to think that managing a team in this league helped me stay on top of the happenings and goings of some pretty incredible people I met a long time ago. And that certainly hasn’t changed. But in addition to this, I see this time of year as the outlet I need to keep me from losing my mind. I mean with all these kids (this includes three girls, mind you), the league is the equivalent to how most parents feel using the bathroom in peace, free from interruptions, knocks and tiny fingers sticking under the door.

You understand. You’re a baller – a 915 Baller.

Here’s to an incredible season of domination, Matt (so long as you stay healthy and average 15 fantasy points a week).

Your friend and GM,


NEW Book Update: “Pancakes For Dinner!” (Waldorf Press) will be included in Book Expo America, held in New York City in May 2017! The expo is North America’s largest gathering of professionals from around the globe and is the leading business event for publishers, librarians, retailers and more.

Schools are already booking their 2016-17 readings and events. Make sure to schedule yours today!

Editing a Trump Speech

Screen Shot 2016-03-14 at 9.25.19 AM
Cartoonists Overseas Take On Trump – POLITICO MAGAZINE

Editing one of Trump’s *speeches would probably be akin to saving him from himself…

“My fellow Americans. Enough is enough. I know that right now we are a country divided, that many of you are upset at our loser president your government. And I’d like to take this opportunity to ease the tensions that have come to a boil during this very atypical election cycle. It’s time to turn down the heat, stop the aggressive rhetoric (even though Trump rallies will be more sleep-inducing than a conversation with Ben Carson), and bring calm to the political process.”

“And it starts with those loser Bernie disrupters and their professionally made signs me. As the GOP frontrunner I have listened to an amazing number of Republicans, Independents and even on-the-fence Democrats who are sick and tired of the way their government has been working for them. You’ve turned out at my rallies in droves because, let’s face it, you totally love me and I don’t blame you. More importantly you’ve turned up at the voting booth, giving Team Trump a commanding grasp of the nomination as we look to Make My Version Of America Great Again!”

“I’d like to take this opportunity to speak directly to those weak, pathetic losers protesters out there. As the candidate that is looking to divide unite this party, I want to let you know that I am just as angry as you are; I completely do not understand where you are coming from (although the vast majority of you ignorant weaklings will never know what it’s like to be me).  Let’s pretend for a moment that I have no interest in raising the minimum wage talk about why you’re angry and how I can laugh listen and figure out how we can come to a middle ground.”

“Let me take this opportunity to ensure everyone that I am not a racist although I’m totally playing the race card to my advantage. I do not condone racism nor do I condone that my supporters engage in harmful behavior at my clan rallies. Violence to blacks, Muslims and those damn Mexicans will not be tolerated. It cannot be tolerated and I promise to make sure that those participating in a violent manner will have their legal fees paid for – that’s a promise – be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”

“Let me also acknowledge that it’s totally not my fault I am largely to blame for the tension you see at my rallies. My tone, my aggression and my fetus-like hands rhetoric plays to your fears, allowing a crap load more votes for me an ugly and grotesque sense of hate to rear its ugly Ted Cruz-like head from this nation’s underbelly.”

For example, Many of you are upset at the notion that I aim to build a very high wall to keep out those bastard Mexicans looking to do harm to our country. Some of you who are out there disrupting on behalf of Bernie Sanders protesting at my rallies find it absurd at the notion that I’d make Mexico pay for it. And you’re also super irked at the fact that I plan on a “complete shutdown” of Muslims entering the United States. I swear on Baron’s inheritance that I’ll make this happen, by the way. Again, my racist statements and lies play into your fears. I know that a high percentage of my voter base are losers, just sad, really feels that immigration is an important issue. And this is why I have said that I will deport the roughly 11 million illegal criminals immigrants living in this country. I completely denounce any affiliation to hate groups or acts of hatred towards minorities, even though some of my supporters appear to be aligned with this hateful ideology.”

“The bottom line is that I am willing to say and do anything short of provide detailed strategies to how I will implement any kind of a plan a uniter that’s willing to do anything that I can to get free media attention for the great working, Middle Class. I know that this is a group that I have more in common with a ferret than these losers great admiration, respect and, you know, a deep sense of their anger. And I have to be honest for a change: nobody loves Trump more than Trump America more than I do.” 

“From now on I will make sure to take the political process more seriously and stop shilling all of the wildly successful products that tout the Trump name. I mean that sincerely. I’m a demagogue man that has nothing better to do has the power to not only unite a party, but a nation. It’s time for me to ensure that somehow I stay relevant in a society that scrolls through trends faster than a teenager flips through the timeline on a smartphone together we can move forward in a positive manner.”

Justin Bieber John F. Kennedy once said, ‘Let us not seek the Republican answer or the Democratic answer, but the right answer.’ I’m here to tell you, my fellow Americans, that I am that answer! And together we shall overcome our differences and truly Make America Great Again! Thank you and May The Force Be With You God Bless America!” 

*Obviously this is a fake speech, as Trump prefers to spin his hate freestyle.


Summer Son, published by Floricanto Pressis coming out soon! Follow me @phillipdcortez


God is laughing at me


Fine, I give up. Just paint on me already.

I knew what my mother was trying to say to me the day I accidentally dialed her number, my cell phone tucked away in my front pants pocket. And while the majority of the universe knows what a “butt dial” is, I guess not everyone knows how to use the term correctly.

“Did you booty call me?” she happily chirped, a question no son should ever hear from his mother. Ever.

I would have openly wept had it not been for my 6-year-old daughter, Ava, who was sitting in the back seat on the way to school, pillaging through the lunch I had carefully made for her to make sure it was “good enough.”

Note: Even 1st graders understand that there’s serious street cred to be won or lost in school lunch rooms; nobody wants to be that kid who unearths a soggy tuna fish sandwich out of their paper sack.

“Daddy, I told you to give me half a sandwich because I never finish it,” Ava gasped. “Why do you give me a napkin? They have plenty at school.”

“The napkins at school don’t say ‘I love you’ on them, that’s why,” I reply, her eyes roll in the rearview mirror.

The conversation quickly turns to the jazz music I am listening to.

“Daddy can I hear my music, please?” she asks.

Why not, I think. It’s a short ride to school and I like her to be upbeat when I drop her off. Not all of today’s music is total crap despite what some critics and aging rock stars may tell you. Besides, I enjoy seeing my daughter singing in the back seat.

Our youngest daughter, Zoe, is another story altogether. To my complete and utter dismay this 4-year-old has become a devout fan of Justin Bieber. She’s a full-fledged Belieber. And when it comes to her music, Zoe is a tyrant. If she says it’s her song, she really means it. That means I cannot partake in the singing and/or dancing of “her songs.”

“I thought Justin Bieber was that Hannah Montana girl?” I ask her.

“Daddy, Beaver is not a girl!” she screams.

I could care less about Bieber or any of today’s teen idols and boy bands that pop up every generation. They are but a piece in a larger puzzle assembled by moguls and businessmen and women. You plug a Bieber into a tried and tested formula, hit the start button and the machine spits out a manufactured pop star. Just add water. And in many cases, rainy puddles will have more depth to them than some of the lyrics we hear.

When I met you girl, my heart went knock-knock,
Now them butterflies in my stomach won’t stop stop…

Shakespeare, he is not.

It’s during these times I realize I have become my father, Car Radio Dictator, who reminded my brothers and I every chance he got that “Pat Metheny had more talent in his pinkie finger than Eddie Van Halen could ever have.”

I suppose that’s all part of the cycle, you know? Kids grow up, students become the masters, etc. “Enjoy them while you can,” people tell me all the time. And, of course, you love your kids. Until you hate them.

“Daddy, you don’t know how to draw! I wanted you to draw Olaf the snowman – that looks like an elephant, silly daddy!”

“Daddy you’re an old man, right?”

When she was four, Cameron our oldest daughter used to study me like a science experiment.

“Gross, why is there hair growing out of your nose?!” or “Eew, is that dirt in your belly button?!”

She’s now 18 and I die just a little bit every time she leaves the house. I guess our worries shift and change the older our kids get. From bumping their heads and slipping off the monkey bars as toddlers to which boy is going to break their hearts and how will they navigate through a minefield of perverted men scattered throughout the world, the worrying doesn’t stop.

It’s a different kind of worry for our oldest, Ivan. He’s 22 and about to graduate from college in May. And while raising a boy brings about another set of issues, I’m much more familiar in this area having been raised in a family of 5 boys and no sisters. We didn’t talk about feelings in the home I was raised in.

“Don’t look at me, asshole,” was our way of saying “This is a really emotional part of the movie and I’m actually tearing up right now.”

But Ivan will be leaving soon; I’ll be sailing through these unchartered, estrogen-laden waters alone.

Of course, life is much different for me today. I’d like to tell you that because of my wife and daughters I’m a more sensitive person, a man who’s more in touch with his feelings. I’m ashamed to admit that I may have made some strides in these areas thanks to these women. But in reality they’ve created a sucker, an easy mark. Crying will now get them everything.

In other words, I’m totally screwed.

“Payback is a bitch,” my mother reminds me daily, reveling in the fact that this was probably not what I had in mind at the notion of being surrounded by women one day.

“God’s laughing at me,” I reply.

For all I know God is a woman.

The new book, Summer Son/hijo del verano, will be published by Floricanto Press in the Spring of 2016. Follow me @phillipdcortez