Smoke Gets In Your Ize

The problem isn't with the lies.

The problem is with the eyes.

And not the "eyes", exactly.

And you'll see what I'm talking about shortly.

Given that the IMAX 3D version of influenza has become the conversational elephant in the room, it's only natural that the political badminton perpetually playing itself out in social media is liberally sprinkled with medical expertise of one degree or another. Or not at all.

And that's "liberally" as in "in large and generous amounts", not "liberally" as in the adverb that sends Trumpists simultaneously reaching for their antacids and their AR-15's.

That's not to say, of course, that the ever present flow of "I know you are, but what am I's" that has become as much a part of our daily chit chat as "good morning", "good night" and "hey, whatta you lookin' at" have suddenly become a scarce as toilet paper on your friendly neighborhood grocer's shelves.....

...and, not for nothin', but what in the world are you all wiping that much?

It is, though, worth saying that, at this point in the time line, while the hailstorm and hubbub of the virus is taking up all the oxygen in the room, not to mention all the aforementioned Charmin off the shelves, there has been, while we have been otherwise distracted and deflected, a shift in one of our more primary paradigms.

And it, like so many other of our primary paradigms that have been jarred, knocked, banged or busted since Donald descended down the escalator from Mount MAGA, has changed not only the way we talk, the way we think, the way we do the things we do....

...but,even, in some ever increasing measurable measure, who we are.

Put a pin in that for a few. We'll come back to it.

My friend, author Alanna Nash, continues to "fight the good fight" for lack of a more applicable, minimalizing , sound-byte worthy catch-phrase (and 2020 'Murica shore do loves them a sound-byte worthy catch-phrase, right....right on....save the whales...Keep 'Murica Great...) when it comes to the, now, pretty much everyday, back and forth that ignites each and every time even a drop of Trump is injected into the flow of pretty much any and all conversations in social media.

The arrival of Coronavirus, or as Fox News likes to refer to it in their never ceasing, ultra patriotic efforts to unite us all, the "Chinese Coronavirus", is just the most recent hook on which we all hang our hats, roll up our sleeves, take out our brass knucks and tire chains and get about the business of beating the shit out of each other.

Here's a plot twist I am confident you were not expecting.

Let's take a pass on pissing each other off about what Donald did or didn't do, or, for that matter, does or doesn't do from here on out, when it came, and comes, to dealing with what has been reasonably labeled the first actual, genuine global crisis with which this particular president has been faced since he solemnly swore to execute and preserve, protect and defend, yada, yada and all that other malarkey that he's treated like a sixteen karat inconvenience as opposed to a sacred obligation.

Put simply, for the more erudite, red cap accessorized sophisticates in the gallery today, the first challenge to the nation and/or the world that couldn't be dispensed with via a few grammatically garbled, impishly misspelled tweets.

Let's just concede that

a) he has done, and/or is doing, a masterful job of leading our nation through the darkness and toward the light of yet another unprecedented brighter day......

...or...

b) has screwed the pooch so badly that America, as it has been, and been known, for over two hundred and forty years will be lucky to come out of this next few weeks alive....let alone prosperous....let alone....wait for it....great.....

Your choice, of course, depending entirely on your current P.O.V., M.R.I, blood pressure and/or bloodstream to Kool Aid ratio.

Supreme leader / pooch screwer
Either /I-ther
Neither / Ny-ther....

Let's call the whole thing off,

Oh, if wishin made it so.

Instead, let's meander back to that primary paradigm shift I mentioned a few minutes ago.

And, obviously, we're going to shoot right straight to the heart of the matter here. I'm just an old fashioned guy who enjoys washing down my bitter pill with a little tasty vocabulary and "meander" is not a word that gets a chance to come off the bench much anymore.

Then again, the screwing of pooches does, in fact, usually involve a considerable amount of meandering but I'm committed to staying on point here.

And here's the point here.

Four years, an infinite amount of injustices, insults, injuries to foundations that the Founders foundationed, endless awkward moments and a kabillion grammatically garbled, impishly misspelled tweets later and Donald Trump can still do no wrong.

And that's what's wrong.

But, again, not for the reason you're either assuming....or crouching down in preparation of jumping to defend.

And, as has been offered and re-offered to the demarcation line of delirium, not because those who insist on digging in even more deeply to preserve, protect and defend their president are blind to his transgressions, tantrums and grammatically garbled, impishly misspelled tweets.

With the exception of one relatively tiny demographic, they are fully aware and seeing very clearly.

The problem is not with their eyes.

Oh...and that one relatively tiny demographic?. That inevitable small percentage of any population of human beings that actually do sleep soundly every night sincerely believing that education is the root of all evil, Kellyanne Conway is Joan of Arc without the Bic Lighter, wearing the MAGA red t-shirt that proclaims " You Can Grab My Pussy Anytime, Mr. President" is second only to flag waving when it comes to real, God blessed patriotism....and that the only good skin is a white skin....well, with a pinkish hue.....well, okay, maybe just a hint of tan, but we're talkin' long, God fearing, hard working days in the field and not any of that, you know, other brown skin.

Meanwhile, back to the fully aware and very clearly seeing.

The problem isn't with their eyes.

The problem is with their "ize".

As in romanticize.

Desensitize.

Mythologize.

Dehumanize.

And one more, big pair of "ize" just ahead.

I mentioned Alanna Nash, in particular, because one post and comment thread of late did an empirical job of shining a bright light on the "ize" in play here.

Names and specific quotes are academic. Suffice to say that the original post was a legitimate criticism of the way Trump had handled something.

Inevitably, and sadly, within just a few comments of agreement and/or reasonable debate, one commenter took harsh task with the criticism and opened fire with pretty much every note we've all come to recognize, by heart, from the Trump Sympathy Symphony.

What made this particular salvo unique was, first, it was clear that the commenter was not just a hit and runner, or even a troll, but was, in fact, a longtime friend of Alanna's.

It was also clear, from her grammar and spelling and overall presentation, that she was not a member of that aforementioned tiny tasteless T Shirt, Mama don't allow no brown skins ' round here demographic.

Her point of view, while clearly passionate and flirting with furious, was articulate and cogent.

And it was her ability to articulate and her command of cogency that connected my dots and made me realize what we, as a nation, are actually dealing with four years, an infinite amount of injustices, insults, injuries to foundations that the Founders foundationed, endless awkward moments and a kabillion grammatically garbled, impishly misspelled tweets later.

It's not that his followers don't see that he is a blunt tool. They see just fine.

It's not that his followers don't see that he's a liar that lies more than a woodchuck chucks wood. They see just fine.

It's not that they don't see that he belittles people who dare to disagree with him, he ridicules anyone who isn't loyal to the point of obsession. They see just fine.

It's not that they don't know with crystal clarity that he is wrong about nothing and right about pretty much everything and that he is never, ever, ever responsible, accountable, to blame or deserving of criticism of any kind for any reason.

Never.

Ever.

They see just fine.

It's not that they don't know, for an indisputable fact, that he did, as he campaigned to be chosen for the privilege of serving the entire nation as President of the United States of America, denigrate, ridicule and mock Serge Kovaleski.

They are much older than five.

And any five year old sees that he denigrated, ridiculed and mocked Serge Kovaleski.

They see just fine.

But, somewhere along the way, at some point in this darkly, satirical dramedy that's now in year four of season one, they decided that whatever the means were, the ends more than justified them.

Way more.

The most more. The best more. The just terrific more.

The "nobody knows more than I know about more" more.

Okay, so he belittles people. Yeah, whatever. I got a nice little raise this year. God bless you, Mr. President.

He lies and makes things up. Blah, blah. Everybody lies and especially Pelosi and Schumer, just like Obama and Hillary and Bill and...yeah, whatever. The economy is booming. God bless you, Mr. President.

He ridicules anyone who isn't loyal to him. Waa waa. Somebody hires you and they have a right to expect your loyalty. Unemployment rate is down. God bless you, Mr. President.

Well, so what if he mocked that crippled reporter guy. That guy wrote nasty things about him. So he can dish it out, but he can't take it. Puhleeze. Our president is going to get that wall built, man. God bless you, sir.

They see just fine.

The problem isn't with the eyes.

The problem is with the "ize".

And that earlier promised big pair of "ize"

"...the attempt to explain or justify (one's own or another's behavior or attitude) with logical, plausible reasons, even if these are not true or appropriate...."

Rationalize.

and...

"...to make, conform to...or reduce...something to a standard of normalcy..."

In plain English.....

To make it normal.

Normalize.

Belittling, ridiculing, denigrating, mocking, bullying.

Made...no, scratch that.

Reduced... to being normal.

Ignorance, ineptitude, insensitivity...incompetence.

Normal. Normal. Normal........Normal.

The problem isn't with their eyes.

They see just fine.

Oh...

One more "ize" worth mentioning here.

Occasionally associated with viruses.

Most often associated with cancers.

The kind that destroys cells.

And the kind that destroy societies.

Metastasize.





 

X Not Only Marks The Spot, It Marks The Ballot, Too...

Old saying.

Two things certain in life.

Death and taxes.

2020 re-boot.

At the very least, two additional things certain in life.

A love of game shows and reality television.

Couple of fun facts to know and tell about the former.

The death and taxes quote is attributed to no less a wit than Benjamin Franklin, in a letter to French scientist Jean-Baptiste Leroy in 1789.

The exact excerpt of that letter reading as follows:

"Our new Constitution is now established and has an appearance that promotes permanency, but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except.......

Say it with me.....

...death and taxes."

It's worth noting, of course, that while the whole death and taxes ba dum bump has been ba dum bumped around now for the 240 years since Ben and Jean-Baptiste were pen pals, it is both interesting, and not just a little eerie, that the actual phrase wasn't a stand alone, but was, in fact, a punch line to Ben's observation that the, then, newly minted American Constitution was, in no way, guaranteed to be a sure thing, fail safe, bullet proof, unconditional warranty, protecting all of the we that made up that other heart stirring catch phrase of the time, "we, the people".

Interesting because, safe to say, most people don't know that "death and taxes" ever had anything at all to do with the Constitution.

Eerie because we're talking about death and taxes at the moment, a moment in the American history timeline in which that Constitution is getting what is going to end up being described as an historically brutal bitch slappin'.

Meanwhile, back at the 2020 re-boot.

And two of our new besties, game shows and reality television.

Motivating, understandably, the request for an answer to the question.

What in the world do game shows and reality television have to do with death and taxes?

Well, as our friend Dr. Franklin very possibly might have said at one time or another in his own lifetime....

Don't get your kite all tangled.

You'll get your "what" as in "what in the world" in a few minutes.

For almost a year now, my friend and fellow opinion enthusiast, Dave Simmons and I have been doing a vidcast/podcast called "The Blab"

New broadcasts air and publish each Tuesday night on our Facebook page with that week's program continuing to be available for the remainder of the week on the Facebook page and at my own website, sepradionetwork.com

The Blab is sixty minutes of, well, as our show promo hype hypes, "just two guys talkin'". And while neither one of us claims any particular credentials validating our observations, opinions and/or commentaries, we're confident that we're as qualified as the next guy or gal that offers observations, opinions and commentaries to offer observations, opinions and commentaries.

Because thanks to social media, of course, it's become irrefutably obvious that everyone either you and I know is an expert on pretty much everything there is to observe, opine or comment upon.

Including, of course, you and I.

And me and my friend, and fellow opinion enthusiast, Dave Simmons.

We make an effort to keep the conversational topics diverse, eclectic, hopefully entertaining and, even if only accidentally, informative.

Because while we are both very personally opinionated, and not afraid to 'em, we are both more than aware that the average human attention span is, currently, like Congress' approval rating, at an all time low.

And while the show may just be "two guys talkin'", the two guys talkin' have, at this writing,  125 years, give or take, of life experience. So, to paraphrase, if not rudely rough up, actor JK Simmons's fun insurance commercial catchphrase.....

"We know some shit...cause we seen some shit.."

And inevitably, if only because it is the exceptionally bloated, mutated elephant in the room these days, politics has a way of sucking up a lot of the oxygen in the studio each week.

In the interest of both fairness and full disclosure, I'm usually the guiltier of the two of us when it comes to steering the Blab bus back into the muck and mire of 'Murican political muck and mire when it appears we're done with politics for that evening's program, but only because, of the two of us, I've got a decade or so on Dave and, paraphrasing Kathy Bates paraphrasing JK Simmons, "I'm older and I've got more insurance....and I've seen a decade's more shit..."

Make no mistake, though, Dave's a smart and insightful fellow and gives as good as he gets. No small feat, by the way, and I have ex-wives lined up to freely and liberally add "amens" to that.

But, being, say, Obi Wan to Dave's Luke....or Wally to Dave's Beaver (yes, he said Beaver....inside joke for all you Blab fans out there), I'm usually the one being asked for political perspective with Dave doing the asking.

I admire and respect that he thinks enough of me and our friendship to come to me for that perspective while, of course, admiring and respecting that he's a thousand miles past smart enough to know that I'm gonna give it to him whether he asks for it or not.

Bright guy, that Beaver (yes, he said Beaver, again)

Here's a question he offered on a broadcast recently.

"So, who do you think the Democrats are going to nominate?"

While that seems like a pretty simple and direct question, it's worth noting here that, in fact, Dave showed remarkable savvy in asking it, because he knows me well enough to know that when it comes to simple and direct questions, simple and direct answers just aren't my thing, baby.

Hey,if Trump gets away with his landfill sized pile of shit under the cloak of "that's just Donald being Donald", then, I'm claiming my God given right to just be me.

And I've been me almost as long as Donald has been Donald.

One key difference, though. My answers really are a concoction of thought, consideration, reflection, relying on a life time of reading, research, listening, learning, observation and contemplation, with a confidence that while I'm never shy about expressing my own point of view, really wise people know that other points of view are essential, even critical, to the process of making what, ultimately, will be intelligent and productive decisions.

While Donald, of course, says whatever what passes for a brain shoots down his synaptic yellow brick road and out of his mouth, or Tweeting fingers, before you can say "tippy top shape".

And the only other points of view he ever, ever, listens to are those coming out of the Rhodes Scholars disguised as Jim Carrey and Jeff Daniels on the hilarious sister station to the Cartoon Network, Fox News.

Meanwhile, back at my answer to Dave's query (yes, he said query, but it's not that kind of query).

"I don't know yet. And don't have any firm predictions to make yet. I need two things to happen before I can give you any prediction. Iowa and New Hampshire. Let's have this conversation then."

Then, and only, then, will it be possible to measure actual prevailing winds.

And not just the 'too much air time on their hands' yammering of some political weather forecaster.

That's the what of the answer to the question.

Here's the why.

Game shows. And reality television.

Given the election of Trump in the first place, 2016 is looked back upon as a unique, if not phenomenal, year in American electoral history.

And that's not phenomenal as in, say, Beatlemania or the singing voice of Susan Boyle or the Cleveland Browns actually winning six games this past season.

But, phenomenal as in its synonym sisters...uncommon, unbelievable....inconceivable.

But, when it comes to 2020....cue Al Jolson, circa 1925....

"...you ain't seen nothin, yet..."

Political prediction is always a slippery slope in the best of times. And nobody with a medulla in their noggin' would label these times as the best of times.

And 2020 presents an even slippery-er slope than ever before. Because prediction, at least reasonably intelligent prediction, is based on factors that, however bent and dented they might be after generations of use and abuse, are still tried and true, if not positively dependable, then, at least plausible...possible.

2020 finds the tried and true off the table, down the rabbit hole, deep in the nebula,

All bets are off, baby.

And those holding on to their slide rules, pie charts and bar graphs like grim death, those who are already ready to call this thing in favor of Donald, The Nightmare Continues or Democrats-The Reckoning, are well advised to remember one word that will forever stand as a testament to the pitfalls of ever, ever, counting your chickens before the hatching is a wrap.

Hillary.

As for me and my chosen methodology of prognostication?

Game show.

To be more precise....talent competition.

Cue the honorable Mr. Webster.

"a variable in a given situation that could have the most significant impact on the outcome."

That's what it is.

Here's what it's called.

X Factor.

Here's how it applies to what's coming.

It's both reasonable and logical to suggest that there are hundreds of thousands, if not, literally, millions of people, of voting age, registered to vote, whose vote in the election of 2020 is going to be impossible to predict until sometime on, or even after, November 3. Which isn't to say that the predictions are suddenly going to fade away, We all know that they will not only continue but, given the unprecedented volatility of the coming contest, predictions will fly like footballs on second down.

Because prediction is interesting, intriguing, even exciting. And they serve as the statistically teasy equivalent of "if it bleeds, it leads" in media.

Even though if history has taught us anything, it's that prediction, based on statistics, based on pre election polling, is as reliable as promises of new jobs for coal miners, quality, affordable healthcare for everyone and, that oldie but goodie, a great wall on the border, paid for by those folks on the other side of the border.

And if it isn't history that has taught us anything, once again, we would refer you to that which has taught us everything we need to know about predictions, stats and polls.

Hillary.

But back to the millions. 

In Nixon's time, the phrase "silent majority" came into fashion. While the context of its use in those days differs from nowadays, the premise was the same. 

Millions of people with nothing to say, except for the expression of their choice of who should be in charge, said choice to be expressed only upon the closing of the curtain behind them in that little booth come November.

This time around, meet the new booth, same as the old booth.

But here's the X factor.

Fatigue.

Even exhaustion.

Nixon's misadventures, although historic, at the time, were, in hindsight, little more than a little out of the ordinary bending of the rules and regs resulting in reckoning...and resignation.

And memory serves, a lot of people got weary of the whole day in, day out Watergate yada yada up to the day that Nixon wrote that "effective noon tomorrow" letter that now resides in the national archives and a kabillion photo copies to see in Google Images.

But, again, memory serves, weariness wasn't really fatigue and it came nowhere near exhaustion.

This time around, nobody knows the trouble we seen. Nobody knows our exhaustion.

'Ceptin', of course, them's of us what's exhausted.
 
The blurry, blunt blotch on the timeline that is the 'presidency' of Donald Trump has 
been a philosophical, psychological, even physical drain on the national, even global, psyche that makes that salt creature sucking unfortunate Star Fleet ensigns dry on that early episode of the Shatner/Nimoy Star Trek series look like an impish kissing bandit.

And exhaustion may, or may not, have any credible effect on a poll, but, bet the farm, Nadine, exhaustion takes a toll.

And that toll could very easily result in those exhausted, for the time being, silent millions showing up in record numbers in November and letting it be known, with their closed curtain voice, that they've seen enough, heard enough and had enough and want to end the days of an America that has, for four years, been a divorcing mommy and daddy either treating each other with cold contempt or screaming at each other....every hour....of every damn day.

Will it matter who's running against Trump?

Anybody who has experienced divorce, either as a child watching their mommy and daddy stabbing at each other from Hell's heart, as a mommy or daddy being stabbed at from Hell's heart or have even simply endured deep, long lasting, chronic pain will testify to this set in stone truth.

Whatever it takes to make the contempt and the screaming...and the pain....stop.

Whatever.

Is there any way to predict how many there are, how much enough is enough they feel, how many of them will show up?

Nope.

That's why it's called an X Factor.

Speaking of which, there's a second, less complicated, but just as legit factor of X.

God is great, beer is good.

And people are crazy.

Shit happens.

It ain't over till its over.

Once again, the dictionary def of "x factor".

"a variable in a given situation that could have the most significant impact on the outcome."

Notice that there is no insertion of the word "predictable" between the words "a" and "variable".

There are, in any kind of contest, but, most especially in political contests, always variables that have a significant impact on the outcome.

And, not to muddy the water or induce an ice cream freeze headache, but we also have to account for X factor of realizing that there are, as yet, unpredictable, additional X factors to take into consideration.

I'm standing pat and going all in, though, on my personally theorized X factor of what, in the spirit of infamous acronyms like STFU, LOL and MAGA, we'll satirically acronymize as PDSDT.....

Pretty Damn Sick of Donald Trump.

Beyond that, Iowa and New Hampshire.

And then let's carry on with the conversation.

Oh....and the reality television thing?

Well, first of all, reality television really is an oxymoron, can't we all agree?

And whether you think of it as essential viewing or the darkest form of fictional comedy, there is no denying that it has, and could very easily continue to have, an immeasurable impact on your life...and the lives of your kids and their kids and maybe even their kids.

Not feeling it?

I would refer you to the one reality television program that has, thus far, had a staggering impact on your life, the lives of your kids and maybe even their kids....and their kids.

A comedy competition program that just doesn't seem anywhere near funny anymore.

The Apprentice.

 

 

The Half Of It? Hell, He Doesn't Know The Tenth Of It...

Old saying.

What you don't know can't hurt you.

2020 reboot.

What you don't know that you don't know can hurt you.

A lot.

And there's a lot of that going around these days.

More so than ever, actually, at this writing.

The problem, of course, with the whole know/don't know hamster wheel is that, more often than not, the only way to prove beyond any, let alone reasonable, doubt the danger in not knowing is to allow the situation to play out.

In other words, one is inclined to not believe that the hand is going to experience excruciating pain until the hammer comes crashing down.  

Or unless one has already participated in the process of skepticism/disbelief/full and reckless hand exposure / arrival of crashing hammer / excruciating pain.

And, even then.

We are, for better or worse, all equipped with both circuit breakers and short memory features that help us block memories that would have us curling up and spending the rest of our lives in the fetal position.

Those features are useful, of course.

Without them, every woman on the planet, so inclined, would have one baby, max.

And men would move heaven and Earth to keep from ever getting a cold the second time.

The drawback to these filters, as it were, is that they also allow for the very real possibility of repeating mistakes and inflicting additional damage.

It's a common flaw in the schematic of the human mechanism.

Entire patterns of behavior, in fact, are rooted in the concept.

"Here, hold my beer" comes to mind.

On a more contemporary note, the know/don't know paradigm is wreaking real havoc in the here and now.

And if you don't know why, no worries.

I know.

And I'll tell you.

Shortly.

A few days ago, Donald Trump gave the green light to have Qasem Soleimani assassinated.

Soleimani was the highest ranking officer in the Iranian military and what Middle East experts describe as the Iranian equivalent of an American Secretary Of Defense.

Even an American Vice President.

Unless you're been out of town, way out of town and/or visiting with occupants of interplanetary craft lately, you're already basically, if not comprehensively, up to speed on the what, when, where and what passes for why of the incident itself.

So, let's cut to the chase.

Thanks to the marvel of 21st Century trouble-making, disguised as high, tech innovation known as social media, those interplanetary visitors would, undoubtedly, be left with the impression that, among its many other wonders, America is possessed of a population, literally, millions of people who, in addition to their abilities at various occupations, ranging from barber to janitor to truck driver to Wal Mart cashier to that kid who mumbles some version of "you want fries with that" at you, can also boast of a comprehensive knowledge, scholarly understanding and expert analytical skill at and of geopolitical dynamics, with a specialized expertise in Middle Eastern matters, military strategy as it pertains to global stability, not to mention, of course, their obvious and oft expressed expert interpretations of Constitutional law.

Of course, the average participant in that stable genius round table has a delightful way of trimming through the geekspeak and wonkwording that clutters up the hard rock bottom line and translates it into a user friendly, one phrase fits all interpretation, good for all occasions, age groups and/or ball cap embroidery.

For example, in regards to this latest international incident, something along the lines of "well, hell, our president shore did open up a Costco size can of whup ass on them towel headed mother fuckers, dint he?"

Why, yes. He dit.

Just one thing, though.

And here's where that know/don't know thing enters the plot-line.

99.9 % of those volunteer geniuses....

Don't know what the hell they're talking about.

And that's not a diss. That's just the way it is.

And always has been.

If, for no other reason, just like you can't possibly know how to, for example, do open heart surgery if you haven't learned how, you can't possibly know how to navigate the complexities of international politics simply because you know how to put Fox News on your remote's favorite channel list.

Fair being fair, the whole "not knowing what the hell we're talking about" thing isn't a new kid on the block.

It, too, is a common, and ancient, flaw in the human mechanism.

And none of us are immune.

Indifferent, perhaps. Ignorant, pretty possibly.

And, then, of course, there's the always impish arrogance that comes free with every purchase of the premium narcissistic sociopathic package.

But, more on Donald in a few.

By the way, it hasn't slipped past me that I'm just as eligible as the next guy or gal to be held accountable for speaking out of turn, talking through my hat, writing checks with my words that my ass can't cash....and assorted other witty and urbane descriptions of being heard when I should simply limit participation to being seen.

My get out of jail card free comes in the form of knowing something a lot of people don't know.

I know how to fess up that I often don't know about something. And pretty much always include that I'm ever working and studying and researching to learn what I can about those somethings.

Which brings us, inevitably, around to that guy who green lighted the assassination of the Iranian equivalent of an American Secretary of State.

Or even an American Vice President.

The assassination was, varied and diverse sources suggest, ordered contrary to the best judgements of scores of seasoned professionals, experienced in the aforementioned global political landscape, not to mention the last, say, four or five, maybe even more, presidents of the United States who recognized that navigating the aforementioned complexities of international politics, let alone simple co-habitation on the only planet available, at the moment, to any and all us, consists of attempting to achieve a skill level comparable to that of a world class grand chess master.

All but the most moist of the currently fashionable mouth droolers would have a hard time refuting the fact that Donald wouldn't know a chess board if its little squares had words like Boardwalk and Park Place printed on them.

Yes, Virginia, that was my verbose and vitriolic way of calling Trump a doorknob.

That case has been made and proven more times in the last, going on, four years than Kellyanne Conway has robo-mouthed "I don't see it that way" to anything that doesn't sing Donald's praises.

And it continues to be made, at this writing, on a daily basis. As, for example, Trump warns Iran he will bomb their cultural artifacts. And his own Secretary of Defense and Secretary of State counter that if there is to be war, it will be war "within the laws of armed conflict".

So, let's skip the "I know you are, but what am I" part of today's round table merry-go-round and let me hip you to that which I advertised a few minutes ago.

Why the know/don't know thing is wreaking real havoc these days.

Even more so, represents a clear and present danger.

Millions of members of our population believe they have it all figured out and what to do about it.

And they don't know what they're talking about.

For most of the same reasons, meanwhile, Donald Trump doesn't what the hell he's talking about,either.

But millions of members of our population aren't within a hundred miles of putting a finger on that symbolic button.

Trump is.

And he doesn't know what he's talking about.

Worse....and more ominously.....

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing.