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Editor’s Note: Every Saturday morning, we take a break from hard news to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the day’s pressing questions about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Is it true that Tommy Tuberville took to the floor of the U.S. Senate this week to warn Americans that it could be dangerous flying on commercial aircraft because airline pilots, flight attendants, and air traffic controllers all dress up as furries and are part of the furry cult? Really? This isn’t something from The Onion, this is real?

Disbelieving in Dade City

Dear Disbelieving:

Believe.

He actually did that. Now bear in mind that Sen. Tuberville is widely regarded as the dumbest human being ever to serve in Congress—and, let’s face it, that’s really saying something.

He said, “When you walk onto a commercial flight, it’s possible that the pilot flying your plane could have a deranged fetish of dressing up like an animal,” which is “terrifying,” and that “many” aviation workers do so.

How does he know this? Maybe Donald Trump told him; I don’t know.

But I do take it personally, on two levels:

1. The assertion that someone who has adopted an animal “fursona” is incompetent or dangerous is offensive. I don’t actually dress up as a flamingo, but I am, obviously, closely identified with the magnificent creature.

2. Why just furries? What about us “featheries”? Or “lizardies”? I just hate discrimination in any form.

But if we are going to discuss threats to our great nation, I hardly think someone who thinks it’s fun to put on a dog costume or whatever is the gravest concern we face. But maybe I’m biased.

So, what do you think?

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Republicans like Donald Trump yammer all the time about the evils of the so-called liberal “cancel culture,” you know, exiling people who aren’t woke enough and all that. So how is it any different when he bans CNN, MS NOW, and Politico from the press pool because his feelings were hurt when they wrote and broadcast stories not to his liking? Isn’t that a little hypocritical?

Annoyed in Apalachicola

Dear Annoyed:

You think you’re annoyed! Imagine how those reporters and videographers feel.

To be fair, Trump isn’t the first mentally unbalanced president to have it in for the press. Remember, Richard Nixon had reporters on his Enemies List and he wiretapped their phones, too.

Some unstable people have extreme control issues. Trump, clearly, has a cloying need to be seen as infallible, which is crazy, of course, and his skin is so thin as to be transparent. So, yeah, he just hates the press and has adopted the Nixonian “Enemies of the People” nickname for journalists in general.

Said another way, he’s a weenie. Remember what Harry Truman said about presidents needing to be tough? “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

And, yes, the irony coming from a Republican isn’t lost on anyone willing to think about it objectively.

DEAR MS. MINGO:

So, you’re sooo politically correct, how come you’re not Ms. Mingo instead of Miss Mingo?

Snarky in Sarasota

Dear Snarky:

I didn’t give myself that nickname, but I don’t object. Ms. or Miss are personal choices, and calling someone “Miss” is not necessarily disrespectful. So what’s your pronoun?

Oh, and I have a colleague here at Tropic Press, Alexander Strange, who lives on a dilapidated fishing trawler in a boatyard in Goodland. It’s named the Miss Demeanor. I love the pun.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I hear vote-by-mail ballots are now being sent out to people who requested them. Are they safe? Do you vote by mail?

Curious in Crestview

Dear Curious:

Yep. Me and Donald Trump. We both vote by mail.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Wait! Trump votes by mail? Didn’t he just spend most of this year yammering about voter fraud and trying to get the post office to approve mail-in ballots, only to be shot down by the Supreme Court?

Stunned in Sebring

Dear Stunned:

You may recall earlier in this missive we were talking about hypocrisy. This would be Exhibit A.

ASK MISS MINGO

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or clever ways to avoid paying bar tabs? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press

Meet Miss Mingo

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

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Editor’s Note:

Congratulations to Miss Mingo, who recently won the Florida Society of Professional Journalists’ Sunshine State Award for Best Blog and Newsletter.

You can support her work by subscribing to the Tropic Press newsletter (and, honestly, we need the help if you choose to become a paid subscriber, because her bar tab is killing us).

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Editor’s Note: Every Saturday morning, we take a break from hard news to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the day’s pressing questions about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

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Dear Readers:

Last week, we discussed the horror some feel when confronted with red-hat-wearing MAGA cultists. In response, I received this video from Debbie P., who turned me onto this country protest anthem by musician Jack Nelson entitled Red Hat.

It tells the story of a small-town guy who has finally had it with Trump’s division and deceit, and decides to burn his red hat to set himself free.

And, yes, it is perfectly legal to burn those red hats. Be sure to tell your Republican friends. It’s the least we can do to save democracy.

Here’s the video:

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Cool video. Thanks. But do you think asking Republicans we know to burn their stupid red hats will do any good?

Hopeful in Hialeah

Dear Hopeful:

Who knows? Might be worth a try. You can always just forward this video to them via email or post it on your own social media accounts. The more cultists who see things like this, the more comfortable they might be in abandoning Trump’s sinking ship.

One more thought on that: A lot of people who have voted for Trump in the past did so because they have been lifelong Republicans and just couldn’t see their way clear to voting for a Democrat. Old habits die hard and all that.

They really don’t have to. Tell them that. Just urge them to stay home on election day. If enough Republicans sit this out, maybe the G.O.P. will come to its senses. Maybe.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I dig your vibe and live for your column. Please continue.

Young and Broke in Tampa

I shall continue. Thank you. And let me add that I, too, at one point in my life, was in your boat — young and broke in Tampa.

I had a job, thankfully, but my car wouldn’t start, and I couldn’t afford to repair it, so I bicycled four miles to and from work every day, leaving home at 4 a.m., wheeling along Bayshore Boulevard, rain or shine (well, there was no sun that time of morning).

I couldn’t afford to pay my electric bill, so I ran an extension cord over to my neighbor’s unit at the duplex where I was living. Was always behind on my rent. But what I never lost was confidence that things would improve.

I was also blessed with having a job I really loved at a newspaper that no longer exists. I outlived the Tampa Times, and I’m still pecking away at my keyboard.

Stay strong. Don’t give up. You’re not alone. You can do this!

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Whoa! That must have been some sight—a flamingo on a bicycle!

Laughing Leonard in Lakeland

Dear Laughing:

Which reminds me of that joke, Leonard: Women need men, like fish need bicycles. But, just for the record because Truth and Accuracy are my middle names, I AM NOT ACTUALLY A BIRD. Okay?

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Miss Truth and Accuracy Mingo? Hahahaha.

Still Laughing in Lakeland

Dear Still Laughing:

You need help. Run, don’t walk, to the nearest mental health facility. Or bicycle, if you know how to pedal. Please.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I’ll bet you were tempted to write: Women need Leonards like fish need bicycles, weren’t you?

Snickering in Sarasota

Dear Snickering:

I’ll be honest, yes, it crossed my mind. But only for a moment because I instantly realized how unfair that would be to all the decent Leonards out there. We must always take care not to overgeneralize. One bad Leonard does not mean all are bad.

In fact, through my friend Alexander Strange, I've met a very nice Leonard. He’s a judge and lives in Phoenix (and is Alex’s uncle). He’s actually been featured in several of the books in the Strange Files series. He’s quite a character.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Whoa! Was that a cheap commercial message disguised as an actual comment from a reader?

Disturbed in Dunedin

Dear Disturbed:

That is a horrible thing to accuse an innocent flamingo of! You should be ashamed. But, yes.

ASK MISS MINGO

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or clever ways to avoid paying bar tabs? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press

Meet Miss Mingo

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

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And now, some more shameless advertising…

The official Tropic Press Store is now open and ready for business. You can order your very own Miss Mingo merch online. All sales are final. Check out the store here:

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Editor’s Note:

Congratulations to Miss Mingo, who recently won the Florida Society of Professional Journalists’ Sunshine State Award for Best Blog and Newsletter.

You can support her work by subscribing to the Tropic Press newsletter (and, honestly, we need the help if you choose to become a paid subscriber, because her bar tab is killing us).

Subscribe now

Editor’s Note: Every Saturday morning, we take a break from hard news to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the day’s pressing questions about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

Subscribe now

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Okay, I need to tell someone about this because I’ve been thinking about it for a day straight.

Yesterday, I was dead asleep, mid-nap, the kind where you wake up not knowing your own name, and the doorbell rings. I stumble over and open the door still basically unconscious, and there’s a guy standing there for the Byron Donalds campaign. Red hat and everything.

It took me a second. Like, my brain needed a beat to catch up and realize this wasn’t just a bad dream.

And then it clicked, and I just went off:

“Noooo. Noooooo. Get out of here. No way. Get.”

Not my most articulate moment. I’m a registered Dem; he clearly figured that out fast, because he didn’t even argue — he just said he wasn’t there for me; he had another name on his list. My partner’s, as it turns out.

Which, fine, technically true: My partner’s a registered independent. But my partner also thinks the Orange Toddler-in-chief is insane and Donalds is a moron. Same as I do, so I told him, “He doesn’t want your bullshit either,” and shut the door as he tried to argue he needed to speak to him.

I don’t feel bad about it exactly. I don’t feel great about it either. Mostly I just keep replaying the look on his face when a woman fresh off a nap started yelling a guttural “no” at him before he’d finished a sentence.

Here’s what’s actually bugging me, though: it wasn’t a decision. There was no moment where I weighed my options and chose “get out of here.” My body reacted to that red hat like it was the antichrist.

So, Miss Mingo, at what point does this stop being political passion and start being an honest-to-god physical allergy to red hat army people? And is there a cure, or do I just keep living like this?

Still not over it in Palm Harbor

Dear Still:

Are you sure you were actually awake and this wasn’t some terribly vivid nightmare?

It is common for dreams of monsters and demons to seem so real they distort our sense of reality and linger on into consciousness. And it’s hard to imagine conjuring a more disagreeable ogre than a Donalds supporter.

Well, of course, there’s Donalds himself.

But assuming this was real, and your reaction was genuine, it most likely has less to do with an allergic reaction than a perfectly normal fight-or-flight response.

It’s our bodies’ natural self-defense mechanism to protect us from danger. So, it seems perfectly normal to me that you might have become agitated by the presence of someone posing a direct threat to your well-being—and, for that matter, the entire state and country. You know, a Republican.

Especially such an egregious, double-talking, Trump-loving, ring-kissing Republican like Donalds.

So, no, you don’t have to continue to live with this aversion you’ve discovered.

Just vote.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

That answer seemed awfully partisan, if you ask me. Aren’t journalists supposed to be fair and objective? So, what’s that say about you?

Red in Redington Beach

Dear Red:

Yes, journalists strive to be fair, balanced, objective, even-handed, and truth-telling.

But this is not a news report. This is an opinion column, disguised as an advice column, disguised as a column written by a talking bird.

Which gives me a chance to get a lot off my feathered chest that I’ve held back all those many years I spent in the newsroom, where I did, indeed, practice all those aforementioned journalistic virtues no matter how constraining and how much it pained me.

I would paraphrase one of your own tribe, Barry Goldwater:

“Snarkiness in the defense of sanity is no vice.”

I would also add this…

My friend Ted Lund, who is Key West’s most amazing reporter—really, he’s a journalistic army of one—recently posted this meme on his Above the Fold website:

(Note to those triggered by casual vulgarities, the following meme contains a nasty word that journalists commonly use—certainly not me in this column, though. Until now.)

And while I’m not sure Ben Bradlee, the former editor of the Washington Post who is pictured here, actually ever said that, per se, you get the sentiment, right?

Reporters bend themselves into pretzels trying to be fair, to quote all sides in civic arguments, but at some point, a liar is a liar, and it needs to be said. Easier for me to do that than for news reporters, so that’s what I do.

No apologies.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Donald Trump says he will give $5,000 to everyone if we keep Republicans in control of Congress.

Why isn’t this against the law? Isn’t this trying to buy votes?

Concerned in Clearwater

Dear Concerned:

Of course it is. It’s also a load of nonsense. It would take $1.3 trillion to give every adult in America a check that big. And Trump doesn’t have the authority to do that, even if he had the money, which he doesn’t.

Of course, he’s counting on people being too naive and greedy to understand it’s a scam. It’s his modus operandi.

So, here’s my idea.

To all you idiots out there who believe Trump really will write you a check:

Trump actually is going to transfer that $1.3 trillion to my bank account, and I will be distributing these funds on Duval Street, first come, first served, the morning after the election.

So, if you are a Republican, skip voting, come on down here to Key West, and be first in line. See you on Nov. 4.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Why do you writers always throw out terms like modus whatever instead of just using plain English? Isn’t that just you trying to preen before your audience?

Irritated in Immokalee

Dear Irritated:

Absolutely.

Meet Miss Mingo

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or clever ways to avoid paying bar tabs? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press

ASK MISS MINGO

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

Leave a comment

And now, some shameless advertising…

The official Tropic Press Store is now open and ready for business. You can order your very own Miss Mingo merch online. All sales are final. Check out the store here:

Tropic Press Store

Editor’s Note:

Congratulations to Miss Mingo, who recently won the Florida Society of Professional Journalists’ Sunshine State Award for Best Blog and Newsletter.

You can support her work by subscribing to the Tropic Press newsletter (and, honestly, we need the help if you choose to become a paid subscriber, because her bar tab is killing us).

Subscribe now

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

Subscribe now

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I have a reporter friend who tells me that you just won some big-time journalism award. Can you tell us about that?

Happy For You in Hialeah

Dear Happy:

I’m pretty happy about it, too.

Yes, my column won First Place in the annual Sunshine State Awards of the Florida chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists.

It was in the category of: Blog, Newsletter & Digital-First Writing.

I’m especially pleased considering all the terrific journalists we have in Florida. It’s an honor to be included among them.

Speaking of which, you don’t have to take my word for it. Check out this list of winners, and what I think you’ll appreciate is that there is a lot of great print, digital and broadcast journalism happening here:

List of Sunshine State Awards winners

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Does this make you the first avian journalism award winner? Or maybe was there a carrier pigeon or some other bird so honored before you?

Puzzled in Pinellas

Dear Puzzled:

Um, you know I’m not a bird, right? No matter how the crazy editors at Tropic Press choose to illustrate each of these columns. Miss Mingo is just — excuse my French — my Nom de plume.

Actually, if you read the fine print in my biography, you may also have some questions about my reality at all.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Nom de plume! Plume! Really? That is very punny!

LOL in Lakeland

Dear LOL:

No, really, that’s what pen names are called in French. I wouldn’t make up something like that! (Well, I would, but I didn’t have to.) Not sure, but it’s an expression that’s been around for ages, probably dating all the way back to when writers used quill pens which were, of course, made from feathers.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

If we’re done with all this self-congratulatory promotion—nice that you got a writing award and all, but maybe you should get back to actually writing? So, here’s a legit question to get you started:

Is it true that Donald Trump plans to force all his Cabinet members to start wearing Trump wigs?

They already seem to worship him, so wouldn’t this be a logical next step? They could be just like members of the British Parliament, since they seem to treat Trump like their monarch.

Sarcastic in Sarasota

Dear Sarcastic:

Actually, members of Parliament stopped wearing wigs a while back. In fairness, I didn’t know that, either, until I did a little digging in order to answer your question.

I would put nothing past Trump, though. He likes to spread his brand over everything, like a stray dog marking his territory, although less pleasant smelling.

He did, in fact, buy dress shoes—Florsheims—for his Cabinet members—and seems to have gotten the sizes wrong, which is why they walk around like they’re wearing clown shoes.

And what other footwear should clowns wear, anyway?

Meet Miss Mingo

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or clever ways to avoid paying bar tabs? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press

ASK MISS MINGO

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

Leave a comment

And now, some shameless advertising…

The official Tropic Press Store is now open and ready for business. You can order your very own Miss Mingo merch online. All sales are final. Check out the store here:

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

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DEAR MISS MINGO:

Now that the Orange Trouser Stain has issued an executive order renaming Lake Ontario to Lake America, will all the textbooks in U.S. schools have to be changed? Oh, and did everyone have to get new geography books when that idiot earlier renamed the Gulf of Mexico? And how worried should we be about his behavior, which strikes me as slightly odd?

Nameless in Niceville

Dear Nameless:

Slightly odd?

As in Jeffrey Dahmer’s table manners were slightly rude? Or Genghis Khan had a small anger management issue? Or George Santos has a tiny honesty challenge?

Let’s call a spade a spade. Donald Trump is out of his ever-loving mind. He’s nuts. Over the edge. Bonkers. He should no more be entrusted with the power of the presidency than a misbehaving toddler should be given a lit stick of dynamite.

But to your larger question.

Textbooks in some red states were indeed changed after Trump issued an executive order renaming the Gulf of Mexico the Gulf of America. Florida is singled out in that regard because Trump’s Mini Me in the governor’s mansion, Ron DeSantis, was tickled to follow suit and signed legislation requiring the state’s textbooks be revised to include the new moniker.

It should be noted that executive orders by Trump or shiftless governors are pure poppycock and political stunts. It’s still the Gulf of Mexico, and it’s still Lake Ontario. Trump or DeSantis or whichever interchangeable MAGA part can scrawl all the orders they want—and they can force their flunkies to follow those orders—but they have utterly no meaning to the rest of the world and will, soon, hopefully, be reversed when the adults return to the room

I do wonder, though, if Trump gave a heads-up through his new Truth Social “early warning” scheme to Wall Street investors that he was about to take a Sharpie to the map again. I can only imagine textbook makers rejoicing, knowing that at least in some states they now get to sell revised textbooks.

But that’s just me being cynical.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I’m sure you’ll be getting lots of questions on this topic, but I have to wonder if this Lake Ontario business isn’t deja vu all over again. Don’t the Canadians control passage through portions of the Great Lakes? Like Iran controls the Strait of Hormuz? Didn’t Trump learn anything?

Mystified in Merritt Island

Dear Mystified:

Yes, they do, and no, he didn’t.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Who was Jeffrey Dahmer? Sorry, but I was in a coma for several years and I’m just catching up.

Ill in Islamorada

Dear Ill:

Hope you are feeling better. When you think bat-shit crazy, you think Jeffrey Dahmer. He was a serial killer and cannibal who was beaten to death by a fellow prisoner in 1994. Before his incarceration, Dahmer spent years killing 17 men and boys and eating them. When he was finally arrested, cops found four intact human heads in his freezer. He redefined what it meant to be invited over for dinner.

Mentioning Trump and Dahmer in the same breath does not imply their behaviors mirror one another. There is no evidence whatsoever that Trump has eaten any of his victims nor that he has personally killed anyone. He has ICE agents and missiles for that.

Best we can tell, his diet consists of Big Macs with their “all-beef” patties. Which explains how he has gained 23 pounds over the past three years.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

You used the phrase “call a spade a spade.” That must be something older people say because I have never heard of it. Where does that saying come from?

Young in Yeehaw Junction

Dear Young:

Oh, to be young again especially in Yeehaw Junction.

Despite what some people may think, it has nothing to do with playing cards. The saying comes from ancient Greece, where the historian Plutarch used the phrase: “To call a fig a fig and a trough a trough.”

This got mistranslated by someone who thought “trough” was a digging tool and became a “spade.” And it stuck.

So, yes, it is a phrase used by older people. Very older people.

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or the origin of ancient idioms? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press.

ASK MISS MINGO

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

Meet Miss Mingo

AND now, some shameless advertising…

DUE TO POPULAR DEMAND, the official Tropic Press Store is now open and ready for business. You can order your very own Miss Mingo merch online. All sales are final. Check out the store here:

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

Subscribe now

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Why hasn’t anyone – in the media or out – recognized that during the Biden term, the number 8646 was being actively merchandised but nobody was prosecuted? Bing search. Still today.

William E “Bill” Thompson

Dear Bill:

You mean like these ads I just pulled off Amazon:

And, yes, as far as I know, nobody is going to prison for this. We have this thing called the First Amendment here in the United States, which protects freedom of expression. So, why is Trump’s Justice Department prosecuting former FBI Director James B. Comey for arranging these seashells on the sand?

Because Trump hates him for other reasons and he’s abusing the power of his office to turn the Justice Department into his personal revenge machine—you know, the kind of stuff dictators do all the time.

Which is why we absolutely need to 8647. Through impeachment.

And it’s why you can go on the very same Amazon and get your own 8647 hats and tee shirts right now if you want. And, as far as I know, nobody’s going to jail for selling them. And they are being merchandised on a website owned by Trump’s good buddy Jeff Bezos.

Astonishingly, Comey is still facing the trumped-up charges that he was trying to encourage a hit on the commander-in-chief. It is a national disgrace.

Really, as my Uncle Meyer used to say, it’s enough to make a bird take to drinking.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I have a question about Natalie Harp. You know, the blonde that Georgia Sen. Jon Ossoff said about her and Trump:

"He doesn't want to do the job. He wants to build his ballroom and travel with Natalie on their apparently defenseless flying palace gifted by the Emir of Qatar."

They call her the Human Printer because as she stalks Trump, she’s all the time running off favorable news items to shove in his face to keep his ego puffed up.

Here’s my question: What kind of printer does she use?

Techno in Tallahassee

Dear Techno:

According to Gizmodo, it’s an Epson WorkForce WF-10 Wireless Mobile Printer. It goes for about $350. On Amazon. Same site that sells the 8647 tee shirts.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Actually, using rubbing alcohol for deodorant does seem to be a likely habit for RFK Jr. I can only imagine the intense stinging that results from its application. He likely enjoys (it) then the resulting high from licking it off… I anxiously await the video!

I wouldn’t blame this on his unfortunate brain worm, which might have died from starvation, but also could have simply been horrified at the surroundings and committed suicide.

Although the amount of sick humor is somewhat entertaining, it will be a great relief when the Republicans and their venomous hatred have gone the way of the worm.

Me again!

Dear Me Again!

I remember you. You’re the one who asked last week’s question about whether the rumors were true that RFK Jr., in fact, advocated using Isopropyl alcohol as a deodorant. Just for the record, in case anyone reading this missed my answer: No, that isn’t true. On the other hand, he did confess to snorting cocaine off toilet seats.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

It is a well-known fact that alcohol kills the microbes that cause underarm odor. And it doesn’t smell after a minute or two after application. Tried it on a horse camping trip after the vet leading it suggested it. It works.

Chris Ashley

Dear Chris:

Yep. Definitely kills germs, which, in addition to causing infections, can also lead to body odor. I’m not here to judge, just to set the record straight.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

You mentioned your Uncle Meyer earlier in the column. Is this the same Meyer who used to be Travis McGee’s best friend? I may be losing it, but I seem to recall you having mentioned that before.

Doc F.

Dear Doc:

Yes. And I did recount that in an earlier column in response to a comment from a reader. You can see it here.

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or multi-dimensional realities? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press.

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

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DEAR MISS MINGO:

A friend of mine says she viewed a social media “influencer” claim that (Health and Human Services Secretary) Robert F. Kennedy uses rubbing alcohol to deodorize his foul smelling body parts. Is this true?

Amused in Alachua County

Dear Amused:

Is it true that some clickbait nitwit on social media might have said this? I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. The garbage floating around online is appalling.

As to the underlying question, did RFK make any such statement? Best I can tell, no.

It is true that he confessed to being a heroin addict for 14 years. He has also said he’s not afraid of germs after snorting cocaine off toilet seats. It’s also factual that he drove around with a dead bear in his trunk and that he collects beached whale heads. Yes, he suffers from cognitive issues because of a worm in his brain, and he’s a famous anti-science vaccine skeptic. But there is no evidence that he rubs alcohol under his arms or in his nether regions to deodorize.

It is possible that with all the cutting and pasting and AI-generated graphics swirling around on the internet that this has become conflated with another frequent Do-It-Yourself hack suggesting rubbing alcohol is a great way to kill odor-causing bacteria. And it is.

But then you walk around smelling like an infirmary, so I guess it’s a choice.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Thank you for printing the letter below. Your gentle approach is much appreciated.

Regarding the often unsung women in government I can think of two words that accurately describe what has made improvements in government and of which we need more: Black Women. They seem to be consistently honest and fierce while maintaining control and good manners.

It’s time that the geldings in government are put out to pasture. They’re too lazy for racing and have nothing worthwhile to pass on by stud.

Hope you caught your boat and the vacay is a goodie. And don’t write any number combinations in the sand with shells!! ;-)

Bruce Cornely, G’ville Fl

Dear Bruce:

You are referring, of course, to a previous column in which the Ball Seed Co. was referenced and in which I noted that:

“…there are plenty of women out there with guts enough to stand up to Trump, including the last Democratic presidential nominee.” The full column can be found here.

I would certainly agree with the overarching notion that we need more people in government—women or men, Black or white, whomever—who are willing to speak out against injustice and corruption. And I agree that too many career politicians—of both parties—are hanging on long past their expiration dates.

Women hold 28 percent of the seats in Congress, obviously far less than their proportion of the population. Since you mention Black women specifically, there are only 29, or 5.4 percent of all congressional members.

I did a little research, and I feel compelled to note that while we might agree those numbers need improvement, they have, in fact, grown over time.

For instance, in the 106th Congress—the last of the 20th century—there were 65 women who were voting members in the House and Senate. Today there are 151—110 are Democrats, 41 are Republicans.

As for my vacay, I honestly didn’t even think to arrange on the beach:

What a lost opportunity! Then again, we have plenty of sand and seashells here in Key West, so it’s never too late for a little shoreline freedom of expression.

Thanks for writing. It’s good to be back.

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or multi-dimensional realities? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press.

ASK MISS MINGO

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

Meet Miss Mingo

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

NOTE TO READERS:

I was on my way out the door to catch a boat—off on vacay—when these last-minute questions hit my inbox. I just couldn’t let them sit unanswered while I was off playing. See you in a couple of weeks.

M.M.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Being an older broad who just loved James Bond Films, I can’t believe no one else has written about the INCREDIBLE similarities between President Donald Trump and the famous villain GOLDFINGER. It’s worth watching the movie again! The HAIR, the FAT BODY, the SLOPPY ILL-FITTING SUITS, the MEANNESS and CRUELTY.

Google GOLDFINGER and read that he was obsessed with all things GOLD…even covering women in gold paint! He amassed all the gold bars that he could and hoarded them in many countries (never paying taxes on them). He was entirely self-centered and also obsessed with…wait for it…..GOLF!! And we can all remember his infamous henchman OddJob.

Oh, I just noticed something. OddJob contains the letters DOJ, another personal henchman!

Regards,
Older broad in Tampa

Dear Older:

While I enjoyed the flicks, I’m actually more of a fan of the original Ian Fleming novels. I would note that while moviegoers may remember that a recurring Bond villain—Ernst Stavro Blofeld—had a white cat that he was constantly petting, the actual cat Fleming wrote about was, in fact, in Goldfinger.

It was not a pure white feline like in the movies, but ginger colored (goldish), and Goldfinger hated it.

Hated it so much that he gave the cat to OddJob for dinner.

So, to continue your brilliant parallels between Trump and Goldfinger, that is also a purrfect fit.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Ya know all those seeds that are available to make us healthy, like Apple seeds, Pumpkin seeds, Chia, Flaxseed and on and on. Do you think if the Republicans in the House and Senate dined on Ball Seeds, they might possibly grow a set? Perhaps we could check on availability at the Ball Seed Company.

Best Regards,
Rick Stead

Dear Rick:

I wasn’t sure about printing this letter as I’m always a little squeamish about references to genitalia (yes, I realize this makes me a little old-fashioned). But I do get that this is less literally anatomical than a metaphorical allusion to courage. That said, I would quickly note that while a reference to males, there are plenty of women out there with guts enough to stand up to Trump, including the last Democratic presidential nominee. So, there is a part of me that wishes we could move past this manocentric reference.

That said, I was curious. And I discovered that there is, in fact, a Ball Seed Company, something I did not know. But then, I’m not much of a gardener. So, thanks for the enlightenment.

Okay, I’m out the door.

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or multi-dimensional realities? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press. She’ll be back from vacation in a couple of weeks.

ASK MISS MINGO

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

Meet Miss Mingo

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And when your shirt arrives, take a selfie and email it to Miss Mingo to be included in her column.

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices.

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DEAR MISS MINGO:

As someone who supports all things democratic – you know, activities that are related to protecting our democracy – and also someone who is deeply concerned about the environment, I understand that these are not necessarily acceptable under the current administration in Washington.

However, I have relatives who live in the Chicago and Buffalo areas, and I am concerned about the wildfires in Canada and their impact on the air quality in these two cities amongst others.

I was going to strongly encourage Mr. Trump (alas it is difficult to refer to him as President when he is so unpresidential) to abandon his plan to impose tariffs on Canada, and instead to fund the construction of wind farms along the US/Canadian border to blow the smoke from those wildfires back into Canada.

However, I remembered that Mr. Trump doesn’t like wind farms.

Therefore, an alternative that might intrigue him would be to install giant gold fans (instead). It could be called Trump Wind!

Do you think this will work?

Pat

Dear Pat:

It’s certainly true that Trump has made it very clear that he does not like windmills of any sort.

It started when those pesky Scots constructed wind turbines offshore from one of his golf courses, and he objected to them ruining the ambience of his links.

Appearances are very important to Trump. Witness how impeccably he dresses with his vast selection of red ties, and how carefully he applies his hand makeup, glues down his combover, and maintains his amazing orange tan.

He’s a disaster as a leader, but he knows about show business and looking the part, and for him it’s always just an act. He should have stuck with filming The Apprentice; it was perfect for him. He could pretend he knew what he was doing, bask in the limelight, and never have any real responsibility.

But I digress.

I really think you are onto something about those gold fans. He has this Midas-like obsession. Not so sure about blowing wind back to Canada, but maybe if the Acme Wind Farm Co. came up with a line of gigantic gold-plated fans, he’d go for it.

Especially if it was named after him. Good call! He’s already plastered his name on everything else, why not the atmosphere?

I’ll bet he’d immediately forget about how windmills cause cancer, how they’re responsible for the diarrhea epidemic, and most likely his low poll numbers, too. Flattery will get you anywhere with that narcissist.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I read in the newspaper that the U.S. House of Representatives has voted to end the war in Iran, but that the Senate won’t go along with that idea. Why not?

Puzzled in Pinellas Park

Dear Puzzled:

Republicans control both the House and the Senate. In the House, a small handful of Republicans jumped ship and joined with the Democrats in opposition to the undeclared—and, in my opinion, illegal—war.

There are not enough votes in the Senate, however, where Trump has done an effective job of threatening Republicans with the end of their political lives if they don’t toe the line.

Many of those Republicans are in desperate need of spine replacements or plexiotomies.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

I get the reference to spine replacements, as in, they are spineless, but what the heck is a plexiotomy? I couldn’t find it anywhere on Google.

You Can Call Me Gray

Dear Gray:

Cute. As in Gray’s Anatomy? Or is it a typo and you’re really Gary? Whatever. A plexiotomy is a surgical procedure in which a sheet of Plexiglass is used to replace the skin and musculature of the abdomen.

It allows people who are walking around with their heads up their derrieres to see where they’re going.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Okay, that was funny. Did you just make that up?

Curious in Clearwater

Dear Curious:

No. It’s an old joke. Speaking of old jokes, have you heard this one:

Q: Do you know what the secret is for senior citizens to have a smoking hot body?

A: Cremation.

DEAR MISS MINGO:

Isn’t that ageism?

Woke in Wauchula

Dear Woke:

You are, of course, politically correct. My apologies. I really don’t know what gets into me sometimes. I’m thinking maybe I need a vacay.

In fact, now that this has come up, I believe I will do just that. I’ve got a couple weeks’ worth of paid leave accumulated. I’m outta here until August 15.

Send me your questions, so I have something to come back to. See you then!

Got a question for Miss Mingo? About life, the news, or multi-dimensional realities? Write to her at MissMingo@Tropic.Press. She’ll be back in action on August 15.

ASK MISS MINGO

Want to know more about Miss Mingo? How she got her start? And whether she really lives with two cats—Deadline and Dateline—and a pet iguana named Skippy? You can find her official biography, such as it is, here. If you’re bar hopping on Duval Street in Key West and spot an intriguing woman in a pink hat that you suspect might be Miss Mingo, you can always offer to buy her a Cuba Libre. Will it actually be her? Is there an actual her? Life’s a mystery.

Meet Miss Mingo

Leave a comment

And now, some shameless advertising…

The official Tropic Press Store is now open and ready for business. You can order your very own Miss Mingo merch online. All sales are final. Check out the store here:

Tropic Press Merch

And when your shirt arrives, take a selfie and email it to Miss Mingo to be included in her column.

Subscribe now

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe tha…

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions …

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West. At least that’s what her official biography says, if you can believe that. She answers the pressing questions …

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her unmatched insights with readers. What’s her story? She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, if you believe her official biography. You got questions? She’s got answers. Some …

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Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices. If w…

Read more

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices. If w…

Read more

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices. If w…

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“Thank you, thank you, thank you Miss Mingo! You are Florida's Andy Borowitz!”

— Barbara Brownell

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answ…

Read more

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices. If w…

Read more

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices. You …

Read more

Editor’s Note: We take a break from hard news every Saturday morning to let Hermina Hermelinda Obregon, a.k.a. Miss Mingo, share her insights with readers. She’s a recovering newspaper reporter living in a bungalow off Duval Street in Key West, where she answers the pressing questions of the day about life, the news, and the best happy hour prices. You …

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