This "Brotherhood" Ain't Anywhere Near Being The "Crown Thy Good" Type...

 

    The hits just keep on comin'...

    "...The FBI has sent a memo to law enforcement agencies across the country warning of possible armed protests at all 50 state Capitols starting Jan. 16, and also says an armed group has threatened to travel to Washington, D.C., the same day and stage an uprising if Congress removes Trump from office, according to a senior law enforcement official...."

    There are, theoretically, tens, even dozens of questions that one might have when reading something like this in their daily news feed. Especially since it's not the kind of thing one usually finds in their daily news feed.

    Or at least didn't, usually, find in their daily news feed.

    Until a wacky, fun filled chunk of "the American people" decided that America wasn't to their particular liking four years or so ago and that it was ding damn time to make it "great again".

    Frankly, meanwhile, when it comes to said "questions", I'm of the opinion that there's really only one that matters..

    And I already know the answer(s) to that one.

    First, the question. Complete with a little sprinkling of reverential Deity.

    "For the love of God...why?"

    Why is this one "armed group", and/or its particular "splinter" groups locking and loading and organizing and scheduling to show up all locked and loaded and gnarly and snarly on a Saturday that could be filled with so many other, much more pleasant and, (Deity Alert) God knows, more productive pursuits?

    Well, first, let's see if we can whistle up some support for these stouthearted men and their stand by their men women by way of showing we understand where they're coming from. And why they are armin' on up...and headin' on out to a state capitol near you.

    Alien invasion? (And, at least, for the moment, we're talking ethnic humans coming across one border or another in one hoard or another and not any other-world being that might get welcomed to Earth with a punch in the face by Will Smith or be told, by Sigourney Weaver, with no mistaking of her mood in the matter, to "get away from her...you bitch!")....

    ....uh, nope. Nothing online, on the wire, on the flatscreen, on the QT, the downlow or even the rumor mill about any impending swarm of "bad hombres". Which, come to think of it, is kinda surprising, what with the wall not being finished and all. And that massive invasion a sure thing, bet your ass, here they come to pillage and rape and kill our great country scheduled for....what was it?...oh, right.....about four years ago. Besides, if El Mucho Mal Hombre Swarmos are already lined up to hit all fifty states at once, we got bigger problems than some bunch of pistol packin' patriots whippin' out the ol' AK's to make up for the ol' E.D. (if ya know what we mean, wink, wink...)

     Covid?

    ...well, it would be a wonderful thing if some rootin' tootin' shootin could take out that annoying little virus that has put (at this writing) 375,000 Americans in their graves...and turns out the pesky little plague don't just kill Democrats, damn the luck. Of course, if Corona could have been ended by a bunch of half cocked who get off on being fully cocked, pretty sure them and their stable genius woulda blown that viral bitch away months ago....hell, who knows....even, say, 374,000 Americans, or so, ago...but, well...no.

    Oh, wait, hang on. Here ya go. Armed group gonna get the rest of us our guns back...you know, cause we have all been living our lives in fear and trembling, being all defenseless and shit, since Obama and his Federal Every Weapon Anybody Owns Cough It Up and Turn It Over Confiscation Program came rolling into our neighborhoods in the middle of that terrible night....when was that again?....September 2015, memory serves....no, wait, I remember. It was never. Yeah, pretty sure. Never.

   Of course, there is that "they stole the election" silliness that some morons came up with after seven million more people decided they wanted Donald to go back to hosting Celebrity Apprentice and give Joe a crack at making America greater than great. Again. Or, you know, just great.

    ...but even the dumbest of the "shoot first and use the words "you're" and "your" correctly" club know that "fixing" an election of that magnitude would be impossible in this day and age of checks and balances and counter checks and counter balances.....and that only the really dumbest among us would ever fall for that "they fixed it and stole it and we need to go shoot somebody to express our displeasure with the outcome that lies in contrast to our original expectations." Only fools and dumb asses would show their foolishness and dumb ass-ness for a single second with that malarkey. Well, them and any sociopathic narcissist hanging around in hysterical fear that presidential immunity was about to expire and anywhere from two to five states want to lock them up on tax fraud charges for the rest of their natural life. You know, just fools and dumb asses and narcissists. Not any of these fine patriots gathering together to proudly display the red, white and blue. And sing a chorus or two of God Bless America. And hugs, you know, lots of hugs and high fives. All masked up, of course....but, still...

    Ah, but let's not forget that "angry and frustrated" thing. We hear that one a lot. How the middle class and working class are tired of being (apologies to Dr. King) "trampled on by the iron feet of oppression". That there needs to be a more equitable economy. Put simply, for the simpler amongst us, the rich need to stop being so rich that the middle, working and poorer classes have to scrounge for the scraps.

    Well, that seems like something that would, certainly, inspire revolution. Has been known, historically, to do exactly that.

    Just one thing,here. though. If that was the reason for this fifty state thing, wouldn't these "make the nation a fairer place" full magazine merry makers be set to show up on the doorsteps of the major corporations...or the front doors of the blood sucking, bottom feeding corporate CEO's. Or even the White House? Where the current (soon to be evicted) occupant has likely made a couple million more bucks off that gig in the time it took you to read this sentence?

    Nope. It's a poser. A perplexer. A veritable what the fuck? 

    Armed groups getting ready to gather in all fifty state capitols.

    To wit, we re-ask. For the love of God, why?

    Turns out, the answer is basic. Simple. Even, one might proffer...primal.

    Same reason Grandaddy used to joke about when he'd ask us why a dog licks its own balls.

    Because they can.

    Because freedom to assemble...and freedom of speech...and freedom of expression...and even freedom to carry are all part of that wacky piece of parchment that just wraps around the lot of us like a big ol' blanket on a cold winter's night.

    The Constitution.

    But while that's an answer to a question, .."why can they?"...

    ...it's not the answer to the question.

    ..."why are they?"

    And that's the simplest answer of all.   

    Because they think it makes them look heroic. Because they think it makes them better citizens, better patriots, hell, just better Americans than anyone who isn't strappin' on and showin' up and, with any kind of luck, gettin the chance to put a bullet in a window....or wall...or, dare they dream, a Democrat.

    Because this gives them the opportunity to vent their hatred of other colors and other creeds and other genders and, well, hell, any other "them" that they decide they hate. At a time, for the time being, where their bigoted bullshit is not only 'acceptable' to "leadership", it's likely to get them Presidential Medals of Freedom (limited time, offer expires January 20th)

    Because they're not all that bright and don't have the full faculties critical to understanding that what they are doing is going to have exactly the opposite effect of what it is they say they are trying to do.

    Make this a freer, better...greater country.

    When, in fact, first, that won't happen. Because that's never worked before. In any country. But, simple truth is, they don't really give a fuck about that happening, or not, anyway.

    It's just another chance to shoot off their mouths and shoot off their rightly beared arms. The kind of chance that didn't come along all that often until four or so years ago. But has come along in spades now, baby. 

    Get while the gettin' is good. Shoot while the shootin' is smiled upon. Crash, trash, break, take, hurt, harm, denigrate, destroy, level, loot and, with any kinda luck, empty as many magazines as time permits.

    Before the clock strikes noon. Four days later.

    And the oath is taken. And the inaugural address is given.

    And the work of rebuilding a nation torn asunder begins. First and foremost on that list...

    Putting the pretend patriots back under the rock. That the orange guy had somebody lift up for them four years ago.

    Before he crawls back under his own.

   

 

     

     

    

 

The Problem With Patriotism Is That Its So Easy To Add Poison...

 

    Ashli Babbit died yesterday.

    35 years old, a California native and a veteran of the U.S. Air Force, Babbitt served in Iraq and Afghanistan. Later, with the National Guard, she was deployed to Kuwait and Qatar. She met her first husband in the service and they married, divorcing in May of 2019.

    "She was never afraid to speak her mind...and in a way, this was her way of speaking her mind", her ex-husband said to reporters.

    The "this" ,that was "her way" he is referring to, was going to the 'rally' that assembled in front of the White House, listening to a 'president' call for a march to the Capitol building, marching to that building, taking part in what became an armed mob storming barricades, entering the Capitol to occupy, vandalize and desecrate. As windows were smashed, the 35 year old Air Force veteran, wearing a "Trump flag" around her waist, who was "speaking her mind" jumped on a pane and joined others in crawling through a window.

    And was shot to death by Capitol Police reacting to the assault on the premises. 

    Babbitt was a passionate supporter of Donald Trump and had posted frequently on social media echoing Trump's conspiracy theories and false claims of massive voter fraud. She posted combative videos about American immigration policy, expressed support for a border wall. Tweeted a picture of herself in a "boat parade" in San Diego, wearing a shirt that read, "We Are Q", referring to QAnon, the radical right conspiracy theorists. She had publicly called for Mike Pence to resign and be charged with treason, Posted numerous videos of Trump rallies and of the 'supporters' headed to DC for yesterday's 'protests'.

    In her last post, she offered "nothing will stop us...they can try and try and try but the storm is here and is descending upon DC in less than 24 hours...dark to light..."

    The 'storm' arrived as advertised. And once the clouds of tear gas had blown away, the 'storm' had resulted in, at least, one fatality.

    The original announcement reported that she was killed by a gunshot fired by a Capitol Police officer who was reacting to the assault of an armed mob on the United States Capitol building. A first in contemporary American history.

    She was shot. But she died from a toxic reaction

    To an unconscionable passel of half truths, false claims, outright lies sold, all very legally, in small, but constant doses, in the forms of "tweets'. By a failed con man/real estate hustler /television game show host who took insecurity, uncertainty, fear and paranoia and concocted a recipe of snake oil never before seen and, likely, never again to be equaled.  

    The irony practically screams out loud. That a young and dedicated veteran of service to her country should die...at the blood stained hands of her "Commander-In-Chief"...

    Ashli Babbitt died yesterday.

    She was shot.

    But she died from something she swallowed. Something she bought quite a while ago.

    Snake oil.

   

     

    

 

 

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.

The Answer, My Friend, Is Likely To Take A While...

Jean-Luc Picard would probably be disappointed in me these days.

I pretty much refuse to engage any more.

Or, at least, for the time being.

And by engage, I mean reply, respond or, more often than not, even acknowledge remarks made in the comment threads of the various social media pages I either publish, or just frequent, when said remarks come from the disagreeing side of the dialogue demarcation line.

And not just because those remarks are almost always, and let's just get the overused, not so funny anymore hardy har har out of the way, not just disagreeing but disagreeable.

But,mostly, because, for mostly most of my life to date, I haven't tugged on Superman's cape, I haven't spit into the wind, I haven't pulled the mask off the ol' Lone Ranger....and I haven't spent any time banging my head against brick walls that have no intention of budging.

Even when the disagreeable disagreeing is, by any reasonable measure, ridiculous and my instinct is to keep insisting that the disagree-er could see that , if only they would see their way clear to hearing, honestly listening and giving it a reasonable amount of consideration.


As a variety of authority figures throughout my life have admonished me, I should know better by now.

Or as the aforementioned disappointed Admiral Picard would remind me.....

Insistence is futile.

Still, as with chocolate, Dwayne Johnson movies and that "last golf club you'll ever need to buy", temptation is always alive and well..... ever urging an indulgence of the urge to volley back the debate birdie, the ever present hope also alive and well that this time, this back and forth, this push and pull will result in common sense winning the discussion, not to mention the day.

Props to our home girl, Emily Dickinson, "hope is", meanwhile, still "a thing with feathers...that perches in the soul."

All of that said, never let it be said that I'm any more than mere mortal. And, accordingly, inclined to spit out, rather than bite, the bullet and give that birdie a bitchin bash.

Game point coming up.

Donald went to London recently for a NATO meeting. Between snarky tweets, foot in mouth commentary and the garden variety white trash in an expensive, tailored suit approach to global leadership, it was business as usual for America's leader-in-waiting (as in, he was elected to be a leader, the lion's share of us are still waiting).

Oh...and there was that zany video of several of the other world leaders having a private chit chat prior to an official meeting in which they were, without naming names, naming one other leader as the resident buffoon in the bunch.

By the way, not for nothin', but "accidentally overheard mocking and ridiculing...". These are intelligent, savvy young men. In this little ongoing situation comedy, there is no such thing as "accidentally". Score one for a well executed play from the Aaron Sorkin playbook. (check out the "the red light on the camera was on" episode of "The West Wing").

Meanwhile, after Trump's return to the land of Washington State apples, Georgia peaches and House impeachment, Joe Biden posted some pointed put downs, pointedly proffering that Donald being a laughing stock wasn't exactly raising America's stock in the eyes of the world.

Motivated by Joe's point of view, I offered my own, via the ol Facebook.


".....Biden is carpe diem-ing the "global ridicule" angle in the latest ad(s).....

theoretically, the ridicule of the other world leaders is damaging to Trump, but....

....it's important to keep in mind that the key votes in the Midwest, et al, that gave Trump the Electoral College came, in large measure, from people who don't really care about (or, for that matter, even understand) "global issues".....

their "world" is the three to five feet in front of their faces at any given time......

and while we all, in fact, "inhabit the planet", there is a sizable population of America that could give a shit less about what France or Germany or even Canada thinks......and will, in a heartbeat, vote for Trump again if they think he will keep (get) them safely back to the America of 1955......

even if that "getting back" is all nothing more, absolutely nothing more, than a sad illusion......."

The comment thread responses to my response consisted of the reasonably predictable. My friends, colleagues and/or like minded acquaintances weighed in with a yay thee. And there was one amusing oldie but goodie from someone I don't know.

"Get over it, snoflake"

While I appreciate his taking the time to frame his ignorance in a holiday theme, I was a little off put by, not so much the predictability of that mindset, but the complete and total lack of originality involved.

Dude, the whole "snoflake" thing is, like, so, like ,2017.

Bet you still say things like "groovy" and "far out", too, right?

One comment caught eye and mental ear, though. From a lifelong friend who, we both acknowledge, says tomato when I say tomahto on just about every issue that exists from religion to politics, from Boulder to Birmingham.

And though we don't connect much, all that much, anymore, it was a rare occasion on his part to respond to one of my observations.

Especially one of the political observations.

And it went like this.

"...I think you should form a “Let’s persuade Michelle to run” election committee. Better yet, make it the “Clinton & Osama-Bama retry election forum. Whatever works. I wonder if you’ll ever understand that the WH winner is not in the hands of mere mortals. I would’ve thought someone as insightful as yourself would‘ve figured that out after 2016..."

For the first time in a while, I was more than tempted to reply right there in the ol' FB comment-o-matic. But I realized that what he had inspired me to offer required a little more. If only just a little more space.

This is that space.

And here is a little more in the way of reply.

Season's greetings,  brother from a different mother....the first, always challenging, bump in the road when it comes to online sharing is that "tone" is, often, impossible to gauge. So while it's entirely possible that your entire offering here was articulately performed with a tongue planted firmly in cheek, it's also possible that you were seriously soap boxing me.

I'm gonna go with the tongue and cheek thing. And take, on faith, that you accept that 99% of my say is equally sardonic. Which isn't to say I'm not serious about the what. It's just that it's more fun to be impish with the how.

Your first few words, there, reminded me of the psychology I've researched through the years, in particular, the notion that the first thing we instinctively go with when commenting or responding is our "first responder" mode,  a verbal version of running straight on into the fire without hesitation. The calmer, more measured (read:self censored/edited) stuff follows shortly or even later.

And if that theory is legit, then you help prove a point I've made from time to time (and others, too, I'm insightful, not all knowing and seeing). The implied assumption, on your part, that because I am firmly, oh, hell, passionately, against pretty much everything Donald Trump is, was, stands for and/or ever will be, that I am automatically yearning for the days of Obama and Clinton (and bears, oh, my).

Frankly, I was never all that enamored of Obama's performance. I was, truth in advertising, not happy with a lot of what he did and/or did not accomplish. In a final report card world, I would have given him a B-, maybe a C+. 

But all of that assessment, on my part as a citizen, is based on policy agreement or disagreement. And, in my case, a "filter", as it were, that allows for knowing, through years of self motivated study and self education, reflection, etc, on political and presidential history,  that the job of President of the United States is, while certainly more dramatic, no different than any job in which he or she holding the job is evaluated. 

Cue Danny O' Keefe. 

Some gotta win / some gotta lose.

Put more visually....place five people in a room. Ask each of them what they think about (anything..fill in the blank)....

Two will love it. Two will hate it. And one can take it or leave it.

Paul Stookey had it right, I think, when he wrote "whenever two or more of you / are gathered in His name / there is love".

His lyric, wisely, says absolutely nothing about any agreement in the room.

Again, Obama was no better...and no worse.....than any other president in contemporary times, when his tenure is graded on a curve.

And being that the whole of America is made up of aptitudes ranging from Rhodes Scholar to "we need to talk about little Benjy", the need to grade on a curve is a given.

Meanwhile, none of my "that's a big negatory, good buddy" when it came to the Obama period had anything to do with his personality, his presentation and/or his general character.

My take then, as now, is that he was an intelligent, educated, decent guy. But, more importantly, in hindsight, I realize he was, again, within the acceptable and inevitable parameters we have to include when judging our fellow mere mortals, a class act, respectful of the system as it was created by the, these days, much mentioned Founders and supportive of the foundational institutions that make America what it was designed to be.

Again, and only because of what's coming next, no less....nor more.....than the Bush or the Clinton or the Bush or the Reagan or the Ford or the Johnson , ad nauseum, E pluribus unum........that preceded him in the gig.

And I never, for a single second, felt a flick of fear that I was going to wake up one morning to find that the whole nation had been converted to Islam over night and we were all going to have to do an off off off Broadway production of "The Diary Of Anne Frank-The Muslim Years"

So, I never felt, nor feel, the need to play witty word games using words like "Hussein"...and...wait for it..."Osama".

PS....at this writing, still got all my guns, too.

Meanwhile...Maude?

Yeah, put a pin in that.

And then there's Donald.

I'll spare the recitation here. If curious or unclear on my general posture as regards the host of NBC's hit "reality" show, "The Apprentice", just find one of my blogs, podcasts or vidcasts on the matter.

Pick a blog, podcast, vidcast. Any blog, podcast, vidcast.

As far as the White House not being in the hand of mere mortals......

There's two paths to traverse here.

One involves finding any credibility whatsoever in anything that comes out of Rick Perry's mouth. Either Rick or his partner in prophetic predilection, Michele Bachmann.

That, of course, brings us face first into this Franklin Graham meets Monty Python theatre of the absurd presentation, "He Is The Chosen One"

When every one with a smidge of synaptic function knows damn well that Neo is the chosen one.

Geez.

Path two?

Well, if that's your play, you may be on to something, there, mi compadre'.

That's where we start talkin' bout one of them gods that God takes exception to us having before Him.

Scripturally speaking, of course. 

And the twin brother Megatrons of a nation in the chaos of being "transformed".

 "Oligarchy" and "Plutocracy". 

With each passing day, "Hail To The Chief" gets closer and closer to being excised from the Marine Corps Band playlist, in favor of several more suitable and applicable candidates for the theme song-in chief.

Cyndi Lauper. "Money Changes Everything."

Barrett Strong. "Money (That's What I Want)".

My personal fave?

Randy Newman. "It's Money That Matters."

My favorite because Randy always brings a bit of whimsy and weary cynicism to his artistic interpretations of the human condition.

And what could be more whimsical, not to mention, wearily cynical, than for America to have elected a president who not only represents, but outright champions, the very gaudy, gold plated pillars on which ol' Oli and Pluto are founded?

See, bud, it turns out that, either way, I did, in fact, figure it out after 2016.

Sooner, actually. If you go back and find video/audio of my radio talk show appearances, podcasts, et al, pretty much starting from the moment that Donald descended the gaudy escalator and announced that he was going to show Obama what happens when you make fun of Donald at White House Correspondent Dinners.

Well, shit, he shore did show him, din't he?

Not to mention the rest of us.

That pretty much sums it up, my friend.

Oh....and the very last thing I want to see is Michele running.

She, too, struck, and strikes, me as a decent and classy person.

And the last thing in the world she deserves is to be put in charge of a country where four out of ten people, at any given moment, think a slick, real estate hustling, snake oil peddlin' sociopathic narcissist comes with ten kabillion miles of what the, these days, much mentioned Founders had in mind when they gave birth to Article II.

It's one of those Groucho Marx "be in any club that would have me as a member" kind of thing.

Love and best to the family.

And thanks be to Donald John, of course, for the freedom with which he has blessed me, after so many years of oppression, to wish you all.....

Merry Christmas.

Hey, You Look Like Death Warmed Over...But, Good News, The Dow Is In The Pink...Well, Black, Actually

Today's edition of saying the things that go without saying...

• An American student held captive in Iran since 2016 has been released in a prisoner swap....the family is, obviously, elated....and celebrations, obviously, underway for yet another world record set: personal best, to date, time between event and appearance of the Donald Taking Credit Tweet......goes without saying that America is going to see a whole lot of these "hey, that's really good to hear" things between now and November.......it's all part of the psychology in play in other life situations....like the essentially worthless employee who somehow starts razzle dazzling just prior to yearly review time.....like the wife beater who suddenly gets all kind and lovey dovey when actually being thrown in jail teeters on the precipice between possibility and probability...... 

• An op/ed written by a noted news analyst, decidedly at home on the left side of the peanut gallery opines that Trump currently has an "obvious path to a second term". The impetus for the impending inevitability?......Unemployment at a 50 year low. And with it, the perception that, economically speaking, happy days are not only here again, but the sky above is clear again......goes without saying that a society basing its overall health strictly on the basis of its economy is putting all of its eggs, not to mention future existence, in one basket.....who needs morality, inspirational leadership, a visionary reaching out to other nations, the global equivalent of next door neighbors,  a concerted effort to reduce hatred, bigotry and all those other pesky human failings when the Dow is looking good?....just ask any homeless vet....or Mr. Bernstein in "Citizen Kane"....."no trick to making a lot of money....if all you want to do is make a lot of money..."

• A couple of Democratic Congressmen have let it be known that they will not be voting "aye" on any of the articles of impeachment that are presented when the House votes. New Jersey's Jeff Van Drew, one of the two, says that impeachment is "tearing the nation apart...and I want to bring people together".....He goes on to offer that everyone's goal should be to "move on"....goes without saying that "moving on" from cancer without removing the cancer is really nothing more than simply "walking away"......and given the overwhelming amount of willingness the Trumpists have shown to work together with all parties for the common good of everyone, walking away is, at best, a guarantee of future failure...and, at worst, well, stupid comes to mind.....

• And lastly, but not leastly,  we jingled the Salvation Army bell pretty good on this little holiday nugget during this past week's webisode of "The Blab", but it simultaneously goes without saying while it bears repeating that there is no "War On Christmas"....the war on common sense, meanwhile, enters its fourth wearying year.....and, forgive the holiday buzzkill, things aren't looking good for the commonsensicans......pray, Zuzu, pray very hard......and Merry Christmas to all.....