God Save The King...Just Do It Somewhere Else...

Michael D'Antonio is an American author, journalist and commentator. He shared the 1984 Pulitzer Prize for local reporting with a team of Newsday reporters for their coverage of the Baby Jane Doe Case.

In a few moments, his accomplishment in that coverage will ring a particularly ironic, even darkly comic, bell.

First, though, an online essay from D'Antonio recently published.


Time magazine has connected the dots of Donald Trump's intensely personal presidency. The magazine's cover features Trump in his business suit, staring into a mirror that reflects him in regal splendor, complete with crown. "King Me," declares the cover line, but the good stuff is announced in the headlines below: "Visions of Absolute Power," "Trump vs the Constitution" and "Why Mueller Won't Indict."   

In those pieces, Molly Ball, Tessa Berenson, Neal Katyal and Jack Goldsmith define the style and practices of a man who leads in the brutal and imperious fashion of a cartoon monarch. The roots of this ignoble attitude run all the way back to the President's childhood as the scion of one of America's wealthiest men in a family where he was groomed to royal ways.

 

"You are a killer, you are a king," was the mantra intoned by President Trump's father Fred as he taught his boys to believe in their right to rule. This detail, reported in Harry Hurt III's biography "Lost Tycoon, The Many Lives of Donald J. Trump," is a chilling marker for anyone trying to understand the degraded condition of politics under our current president. 

 

In biographies of Trump, including my own, "The Truth About Trump," one is introduced to a man raised by an imperious father and a mother besotted by the British royals. Ask Trump about his mom, as I did, and the most acute memory he relates finds her gaping at the television as Queen Elizabeth was coronated. 

 

In every telling, Fred Trump comes across as a stern, absent father devoted to his real estate empire. He was so insistent that he be obeyed that a 13-year-old, troublesome Donald was forced to enroll at a military academy. And yet it was one of these men, young Donald's role model Theodore Dobias, who told me that he regarded Fred Trump as overly tough -- or as he put it "a real German."

I touch on Trump's childhood because his behavior, bullying and heedless, challenges everything we have come to expect from a president. Seemingly incapable of recognizing his responsibilities to institutions that make the country a more just and peaceable nation, Trump acts more like a boy tyrant than a mature political figure. 

 

He can perform like a facsimile of a president under extreme circumstances; remember the notecard that coached him on empathy when he met with school shooting survivors? But when he is on his own, he reverts consistently to childlike displays of cruelty and gloating. 

 

The infantile, all-about-me aspect of Trump can be seen in the way he abuses his pardoning power to score points against his political foes and law enforcement officials, and made nuclear diplomacy into a performance piece featuring his own ego. Trump so personalized his approach to North Korea that he made Kim Jong Un his equal -- just another child in the sandbox -- and failed to establish a position that seems likely to allow for real negotiations at the upcoming summit. 

 

Trump's personalization of the presidency has crippled him in his dealings with Kim, inspired him to degrade institutions like the free press and judiciary, and attempted to make a mockery of special counsel Robert Mueller's investigation of Russian interference in the 2016 election. Unable to see outside himself and value the system that transcends one presidency or one moment, Trump sacrifices the future for the sake of himself.

All that makes Trump regard himself as Time's "King Me" has been evident since he became a public figure in the 1970s. His father's intonation -- killer, king -- was so powerful that, combined with the son's talents, it produced the ongoing crisis that is his White House rule. 

 

The founders of our republic fashioned a government in a way that was supposed to constrain a kingly executive like Trump. Now that we have one, we will see if what they built will stand the test. 

 

 

To D'Antonio's assessment, I'll only offer a few brief, assorted thoughts.

First...yeah, what he said.

Second, not to pile on or even to call on a common Trump quirk and find a way to step into somebody/everybody else's limelight, but, I offered pretty much the same conclusion almost two years ago in that week after the election of 2016 when there was no waking up from the surreal dream that America had suddenly decided that the answers to all of their hopes and dreams and fears and schemes had been delivered to them in the form of an obviously spoiled rotten little rich kid who had grown up to be a crude and obnoxious little rich man who would, bet any bucks you got, go about "leading" in the brutal and imperious fashion of a cartoon monarch.

That conclusion, of course, being that this "presidency" was very likely going to be one of the most, if not the most, powerful, stressful and, in many ways, dangerous tests ever conducted on the system the Founders designed. Proving, or, God forbid, disproving the perfection of the design of that system to prevent a king, or dictator, from getting their hands on the wheel of the ship of state or, in the worse case scenario, if they did, in fact, get hold of that wheel, they wouldn't have control of it for very long.

Five hundred and five days, at this writing.

 

By the way, the ironic, even darkly comic bell I mentioned would ring regarding Michael D'Antonio's back story, chimes in as follows:

 

What better credibility could a writer/journalist have to offer insight on the personality, and potential danger, of the, for now, infantile, spoiled, tantrum throwing resident at 1600 Pennsylvania than a guy who won a Pulitzer Prize for his reporting on...wait for it....Baby Jane Doe. 

 

To that, I'll just add a point to ponder for all those who continue to support, endorse, encourage and, by doing so, enable brutish and imperious cartoon wannabe monarch.. And, just so we're clear, I don't delude myself for a second or harbor any illusions that you'll give this ponderable point a second's thought. Five hundred and five days into this wanna be monarchy and it's time to paraphrase the great 70's band, Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes.

 

"If you don't know him by now / you will never, never know him"

 

 But, back to the point. And it's one of those kinds of points that parents will appreciate. One of those "well, I can't prove this to you now, the only way to prove it to you is to let it happen and then wait for you to see what the consequences will be" kind of points.

Trust me, kid. You don't want a king.

 

Because.... and I fully acknowledge that I can't prove this to you now, the only way to prove it to you is to let it happen and then wait for you to see what the consequences will be"...... 

If and when America ever gets a king....especially this "king", it ain't gonna be Harry and Meghan and William and Kate time.

Think....Longshanks.

Kim, Khloe, Kourtney...and....wait.....oh, yeah...Katrina....Right?

from a tweeter......

Hurricane Katrina killed 1,833 people.

September 11th killed 2,993 people.

Hurricane Maria killed 4,645 people.

Stop covering Roseanne & Samantha Bee. Start covering the biggest political disaster since 9/11.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOW here's how these stories affect the masses:

Katrina--yeah, yeah, tragic, what's on HBO? 

9/11---yeah, yeah, tragic, never forget, yada, yada, what's on Hulu?

Maria--yeah, yeah, tragic, like, uh, Katrina, right? What time does Westworld come on?

Roseanne and Samantha Bee---she said what? are you f***in kidding me? quick log on and...what? yeah, quick, turn it on...what are they talking about?....Maria? Maria who? Change the channel....find that guy talking about Roseanne....find that woman talking about Samantha Bee......

THE MEDIA....is a "for profit business", their purpose and goal is to get as many people as possible to pay attention to what they are offering.......

In a culture that doesn't know, or care, what the name of their elected representative is, but can name all of the Kardashians (in order, by age, ascending and descending), BLAMING THE MEDIA for what they cover is like blaming Dairy Queen for offering Blizzards instead of Wheat Grass Smoothies......

"Stop covering Roseanne and Samantha Bee"???

Deal.

You stop lapping up Blizzards and start caring about wheat grass.

Oh. Yeah.

Thought so.

Throwing Rice, Hurling Insults...America Has Forgotten The Difference...

The world watched, with great interest and not just a little admiration, as the youngest grandson of Queen Elizabeth and an accomplished, confident young American woman exchanged marriage vows in the history drenched atmosphere of St George’s Chapel in Windsor.

America, by the millions, witnessed the event via global broadcast, an event marked by not only the amount of pomp and circumstance expected at a traditional royal wedding but also, in an obvious and remarkable leap into a more contemporary attitude, a bride who walked unchaperoned until the final few steps of her aisle journey, a sermon from a passionate Chicago preacher, rocking a Chapel more accustomed to a stately, if not stodgy, presentation with one artfully edging right up to the line marked “old time religion”, as well as the culturally diverse sounds of a 20 member gospel choir singing the Ben E King classic, “Stand By Me”, a cello performance by the first black winner of a major British music prize and culminating with the sounds of Etta James version of a song that became synonymous with the American civil rights movement, “Amen/This Little Light of Mine”.

Hyperbole aside, this wedding was a breakthrough of sorts, a mixture of deeply rooted tradition and modern, even progressive, attitude. No windows were rattled, and no walls got shaken down, but the times, they were clearly a-changin.

Inevitably, given the magnitude of the event, personal expressions, opinions and observations were thick as Yorkshire pudding, via, of course, the mixed blessing marvel of the 21^st century, social media.

Let me offer you some of those opinions and observations, in this case, pulled from the Facebook page of the talk radio station where I guest host from time to time.

“Billions of watchers? Doubtful…We won the war in 1776, so who cares?...Wouldn’t watch it if I was paid to do so, can’t really wrap my head around all the hype…Who cares…she was one of Hollywood’s elite saying if Trump was elected President she would be leaving the country, my thoughts are she is Great Britain’s problem now…”     And, from a keen and insightful mind of few words…”who cares…Trump 2020”.

The temptation on this end of the microphone, instinctively, is to offer up a little quick draw and a rapid fire couple of shots, starting with something like “keepin it classy, America”. Or, to be more accurate in this example, “keepin’ it classy, Sussex County, Delaware” as that’s where this little babbling brook of pride, passion, pettiness and poison babbles.

The second inclination is to wander off into a pointless commentary about either free speech or politicizing a non-political event or even the wedding itself.

I’m not a fan of pointless commentary. I like a good point on commentary. I make it a point to try and put a good point on commentary. And, whenever I think it applicable, I enjoy sticking that point as far up the closest tight ass, or group of tight asses, I come across.

But, before I furnish the foil, let’s deal with those three tentative topics of chit chat…in reverse order.

First, the wedding itself. Here’s the very bottom of the bottom line list.

It was their wedding. Not yours or mine. And whatever they wanted to do was their business. Not yours or mine. And if you are one of those feeling the need to chime in on the how, what, when, where or why of any of it, you need to mind your own damn business. Because when it comes to what you think of their wedding, or the marriage, or, even them, personally? Well, to borrow an eloquently constructed phrase from one of our previously quoted commenters…who cares what you think?

Politicizing a non-political event? Admittedly, we live in very political times, passions are high, tempers are stuck in flare mode and pretty much anything can be quickly, if not instantly, turned into a partisan potshot. Unlike your average current office holder or Evangelical anything, though, I won’t play the hypocrite card, so, I’ll freely fess I personally have to bite my tongue more than you might think I bite my tongue to keep from “going there” with every breath I take, every move I make. But, again, at the bottom line, it wasn’t a political event, it wasn’t promoted that way and pretty sure no one in the families saw it as a political event, so using the ceremony and the accompanying pomp and/or pageantry as yet another excuse to wave those really stupid looking Make America Great Again caps in our collective faces is, at the least…at the very, very, very least, an act of callousness, classlessness, ignorance, well, hell, for those who get all flustered when I use big words…it’s just rude.

Yo’ mama taught you what rude means, right? Hmm. Lesson didn’t stick too well. That’s unfortunate.

That brings us around to that battle weary, not just a little frayed at the edges phrase that pays…free speech.

And here’s where I get to use that finely pointed point I referred to earlier.

Stick your free speech. You’re rude. And you need to shut up.

But you won’t will you?

Because whatever you say, even it it’s callous, classless, ignorant or…say it with me, rude, it’s your right, right? Your right as an American. Says so right there in that Constitution that you’ve become a scholarly expert on in the last couple of years.  That Constitution that was written a long time ago, in a culture and society far, far away, a culture filled with men of passion and temper and emotion, not unlike modern passion and temper and emotion, but, and here’s where things go south these days, also a culture of courtesy and respect and refinement and decency and adherence to basic, even primal, human virtues, like courtesy and respect and refinement and decency.

But the age of Trump ain’t the age of Jefferson, baby.

Hell, the age of Trump ain’t even the age of “The” Jeffersons, baby.

It’s an age of venom and viciousness, hatred and bigotry, ignorance and intolerance, animosity, attack and avarice…yeah, I know, sorry, big words again.

It’s an age where opinion is no longer a contribution to conversation, instead, it’s a blunt object, a sharp dagger, a locked and loaded, fully endorsed, bought and paid for by the NRA weapon used to hurt, harm, maim, malign, yes, I do actually know what all these words mean and, yes, I often do use them just to piss you off.

It’s one of the perks of being on this side of the microphone.

But, again, not wishing to be branded the hypocrite, let me offer this by way of constructive contribution to the conversation.

Ignorance, hatred, bigotry, intolerance, venom, viciousness…. ain’t nothin’ new.

Meet the new human being. Same as the old human being.

Failed, flawed creatures, we are. A perplexing and paradoxical concoction of love and hate, pride and shame, kindness and cruelty, compassion and selfishness, arrogance and humility…good…and evil.

Don’t believe me? Pick a history book. Any history book.

Better yet, pick up a Bible. Not just for breakfast, or use in spreading sanctimonious like Nutella on a baguette, those revered, while pithy, pages are chock-a-block full of the aforementioned conflicts raging like a river inside the hearts and minds and souls of mere mortals like you…and me.

What’s different, what’s both egregious and heartbreaking, in this particular bullet point on mankind’s timeline, is that what makes us weaker and poorer and less than we can be, could be…should be…is that our better angels are currently getting their asses kicked in the proverbial battle.

Hatred, bigotry, intolerance, pick a failing, any failing, are not currently on the list of failings.

Borrowing, one more time, from our friends The Jeffersons, those failings have moved on up. To the top of the list of regular, typical, even expected behaviors.

It’s called normalizing.

It happens when something unacceptable somehow becomes acceptable, either through careless disregard of the safety protocols in place to prevent leakage or lazy indifference to the dangers of not keeping an eye on the cork sealing the bottle where those toxic human flaws are stored….or, and here’s where it gets particularly pathetic, when the cork is purposely yanked out of the bottle, allowing those toxins to spill into the mainstream of our lives, said yanking done for no other reason whatsoever than to further the personal ambitions of someone whose inner emptiness can only be filled by praise and worship and adoration for doing a job they are staggeringly unqualified to do.

A job that innately requires the capacity for uniting, as opposed to dividing, inspiring as opposed to inciting…a job that cannot be successfully done without that capacity…and, more importantly, the ability to exercise those skills.

Suddenly, like the heart attack that comes in the middle of the night, courtesy is displaced by callousness, kindness is rudely shoved aside by cruelty, compassion’s throat is cut by the serrated blade of intolerance.

And what was anathema…becomes normal.

That’s the thing, too, about corks.  Sometimes, they simply can’t be put back into the bottle.

Champagne is like that.

The kind of champagne you might find at a wedding.

Even a wedding that was a mixture of deeply rooted tradition and modern, even progressive, attitude.

A wedding that brought a diverse tens of thousands of that nation’s citizens to the streets to cheer and celebrate and respect and honor two apparently good and decent people who took part in a respectful, compassionate, inclusive ceremony.

And not a cheap shot, foul mouth, intolerant yammer..or red cap..within a thousand miles.

Actually, 4,417 miles to be exact.

"Dodo Birds, 8 Track Tape and Truth---Name Three Things That Are Extinct"

Jumping off a bridge has become a way of life, these days.

And if you haven't done it personally, or know someone who has done it, you have certainly seen it happen.

Probably already today.

Last week, comedian/cable commentary host Bill Maher, in the midst of a conversation with his panelists regarding accountability, or, more accurately, the lack there of, in current American politics, offered a cut down to the bone observation that should be immediately printed on as many bumper stickers, T shirts, key chains and refrigerator magnets as humanly possible.

"Lying must be made punishable again."

He went on, for a moment or two, on the social phenomenon that has rendered facts, irrefutable truth about...well, about pretty much anything and/or everything, a non-entity. Or, at best, only one of a number of factors that might (emphasis on the word "might") be taken into consideration when determining an outcome, rendering a judgement or, simply, owning up to an action or behavior.

Put simply...what it is....is no longer automatically what it is. 

Historians, sociologists, psychologists, behaviorists and late night comedy writers will, for years to come, ponder, probe and postulate on the how and why when it comes to the demotion of the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

For now, the rest of us are left to deal with the "what". The rest of us, that is, that makes up those who still understand and accept the difference, no matter how subtle or nuanced, between opinion and fact, sentiment and fact, theory and fact and, most importantly, belief and fact. 

And, as with so many other kinks in the garden hose of humanity these days, eyes and ears, inevitably, if not first and foremostly, turn to the current inhabitant of the Oval Office.

Given, though, the slippery slope that exists in discussion, conversation, even one on one dialogue in the current climate and the seemingly more frequent fall into the truth, the whole truth, the partial truth, the alternate truth, and, in fact, nothing even remotely close to the actual truth, it becomes useful to keep the wordplay minimalist.

So, let's do that.

Donald Trump is a liar.

He lies daily, if not hourly, he lies on any and all subjects, he lies on any and all details remotely associated with any and all subjects, he lies about Obamacare, he lies, you get a wall, oh, where?, he lies about a porn star pay, he lies each minute of the day, he lies when he gets in a jam, he'd lie about green eggs and ham.

But, Seuessian satire aside, there's a far deeper cancer alive and growing in the lymph nodes and brain cells of the body American.

He lies without accountability.
He lies without consequence.
He lies without retribution.
He lies without being held responsible for the lies he tells.

And, in far too many mouths, from sea to shining sea, these four words come spewing forth as though they were the no fault rationalization for every single word of deceit, dishonesty, disrespect, denigration and destructive demagoguery that Donald spews, taunts and tweets with each ticking of the countdown to the next election day clock.

"Politicians...they all do it."

Oh.
Okay.
Well, then, we just need to go about our business.
And pay no attention to the hourly words of deceit, dishonesty, disrespect, denigration and destructive demagoguery being spewed, taunted and tweeted by the President of the United States.

You know what?
Scratch that.
And you know what else?
If you were nodding your head just now when I said we just need to go about our business?
Fuck you.

Because your enabling this liar is, bet the bar exam I could easily get a jury to convict you and lock you up, committing the crime of accessory after the fact in all of his lies.

And for that, you get no pass.
You get no slack.
You get no "oh, well, I guess you're entitled to your opinion."

Here's what you get.
Nothing.
And if those of us who still understand and accept the difference between opinion and fact, sentiment and fact, theory and fact...and belief and fact can find a way, we'll do everything we can to see that you never get to vote for anything ever again.

Because saying "everybody does it" makes you, at the very least, irresponsible.
And that makes you reckless.
And that makes you dangerous.

As dangerous as jumping off a bridge.

You know, the way your mama used to give you that verbal smack up side the head?

"Well, now, if Johnny jumped off a bridge, would you jump, too?

A beyond stupid thing to do.

A beyond stupid thing to do that has somehow become a way of life these days.

And here's the really stupid part....

Apparently, it has something to do with this con some guy is pulling.

Some guy who has a whole lot of really not all that bright people conned into believing that it's part of what's involved in making America great.

Wouldn't your mother be proud of you for falling for something that ridiculous?

Assuming, of course, your mother doesn't own a red cap.

Oh....and, by the way, as to my harsh language and admittedly insulting comments there a minute or so ago.

An apology is called for.

Not gonna happen.

Allow me to explain where that language and attitude comes from.

"Anti Trump-sters.....we all do it."

"Not So Much Death, As Opposed To Adjustment, Of A Salesman..."

Schools in the news almost daily.

Okay. Hold on.

Before you let loose with your DefCon 1 siren alerting the tribe to yet another libtard, snowflake assault on your assault rights, holster that smoke wagon and listen before you lock and load for a change.

Schools are, of course, in the news almost daily because of the almost daily shootings in school.

But that's not the point of this piece. And by piece, of course, I'm not referring to any heat I may or may not be packin'.

The point of the piece is that schools should be in the news almost daily.

If, for no other reason, the incredible irony that is enveloping the hallowed halls like pea soup fog on an average London day. Or a soon to once again be average San Francisco, LA and/or New York day thanks to the EPA, for the most part, being pretty much tweeted into extinction.  

And here's the irony.

America got schools. America got a lotta schools.

And America be gettin' dumber with each passing day.

And in what ways of dumbness to which I am referring?

Well, first of all, what little actual verbal language occurs anymore, for the most part replaced with tapped out texts, has a grammatical flavor that reminds one not so much of the great orators of our history but, actually, a whole lot like Yoda.

Communication, it was once, now, almost comically offered, is key.

If that's the case, we need pray for the imminent invention of a retina scan version of trying to understand each other.

Because the key, kids, is kaput.

But, I digress. Or, as, I'm willing to bet you, a whole lotta 'Muricans would be inclined to express it...I digest.

As opposed to a blanket indictment of education and/or, most especially, the lack of it in this once upon a time best educated nation on the planet, indulge me while I offer up some clarity on the confusion resulting in the incorrect interchange of two commonly known words.


Hustle...and traitor.

First, let's get a quick,cut and paste look at simple dictionary def's for the duo.


Hustle.

noun

a fraud or swindle.

Traitor.

noun

a person who betrays a friend, country, principle, etc.

At first glance, one might feel a flush of curiosity as to how two words, seemingly so unlike one another in terms of definition, could ever come close to being confused with one another.

Well, there is that America be gettin' dumber with each passing day thing.

But, turns out, it ain't so much about dumb.

Innocence, a certain naivete', perhaps and, most assuredly, a generous glob of gullibility.

But, dumb? Not duh reason.

Here's the easiest, and most currently relatable, way to paint the picture for you so as to illustrate the issue.

Among the many descriptive, denigrating and/or dramatic adjectives that have been used, of late, to label Donald Trump, none is quite so dramatic and/or denigrating as the T word, the Big T, he's Trump and that ends in P and that rhymes with T and that stands for....traitor.

Russia. Putin. Election hacking. You know the plot. This mini series is over two years old.

Now Mr. Back In The U.S.S.A is calling to congratulate Vladimir on winning a joke of an election. (Something that, in fairness, we now have in common with our Kissin Cousin Comrades) despite the loud, obvious and, well, hell, just plain good old fashioned common sense warnings coming from pretty much everybody on the planet Earth, of an official or unofficial capacity, with a functioning brain in their head except Donald Trump and most of Fox News.

But I repeat myself.

The accusations, and the theories, about what Trump is up to, why, where, when and what it all means both here in America and back in the U.S., back in the U.S, back in the U.S.S.R are as plentiful as they are imaginative.

There is one theory, though, that hasn't gotten a lot of, if any, notice, has no particular snap, crackle or pop in terms of either global ramifications and, frankly, when it comes to theatrical value it just doesn't have the kind of sexy, part spy, part porn star pumpin', part pussy grabbin', part cyberbullyin', part neo-Nazi supportin', part red cap wearin' Nuremberg meets WWE match meets Hee Haw episode praise and worhip rally flavor that we've come to expect from this 46th Presidency of the United States of America.

Yes, MAGAotts, Trump is 45. One guy was elected two different times and it counts as two different presidencies. Put down your Kool Aid, mute the sound on Hannity and crack a history book for once in your redneck, white and blue life.

Back to the traitor.

Personally, not buying it.

Don't misunderstand me. I'm not defending the guy. And the current and, ultimately, end results of what he's doing may very likely end up with him joining Benedict Arnold and the Rosenbergs in the annals of America's least likely to be revered.

But there's something Donald lacks that I feel confident is pretty much a pre-requisite when it comes to masterminding a treason of this proportion.

A master mind.

Donald Trump, meanwhile, may be one of the dumbest men to, not only, ever occupy the Oval Office, but, in fact, may be one of the dumbest men.

That's not a typo. There's nothing missing after the word "men" in that sentence.

Meanwhile, hustle?

Well, that's a swindle of a different shade.

There's no particular intelligence requirement, per se', necessary to play on people's fears, weaknesses, gullibilities, ignorances, hopes, dreams, wishes and/or hungers.

Don't need to be Stephen Hawking to know that if you can convince a room full of starving people that you've got a five course meal just waitin' for em down the street and around the corner, they'll follow you down that street, around that corner and right over the edge of the ravine before they realize that there ain't no meal and there ain't no soft landing down at the bottom of that ravine.

The "con" is as old as the garden.

The more evangelical in our midst will be very "talk to the hand"y about this, but there's no gettin' around the fact that the very first master con pulled off may very have involved the serpent and his little schpiel directed at a fresh young face name of Eve.

Truth be told, politics, by its nature, is a con, of sorts. To a degree. To a point. Out of necessity.

You can't get elected to shit in this country by being totally honest about everything.

Because if you need ten votes to win, you can't afford to piss any more than four people off.

And that means telling some lies.

Or, at least, conning those four people until after the votes are counted.

Which will bring us back to do-re-me thinks Trump is no traitor.

Or, more accurately, betraying his country is his primary motivation and/or goal.

It's really not that dramatic.

And it's really not the complicated.

Here's that one theory I alluded to earlier, that one, not mentioned, possible explanation for why Trump and Putin's song seems to be "my sweet embraceable you".

Trump never wanted to be President.

He never expected to win the election.

He's doing what he can to make hay, stock up and cash in while the making, stocking and cashing is good.

And he fully expects to walk out of the White House, be it in two years or six, and pick up where he left off, wheeling, dealing, scamming, conning and having big ass buildings constructed with his name in twenty foot high letters attached where absolutely no sight line is blocked.

Before he stiffs the contractors, screws over the associates and golf carts his way over to the drive thru window at the bankruptcy court.

Russia, like any other country, is a potential field in which Trump can plant his crops..

Think of Donald thinking of Russia as a five star restaurant of infinite culinary delights. 

Old saying. You don't shit where you eat.

Donald isn't selling American secrets to the Russians. He's not even selling America to the Russians.

He's selling Trump to the Russians.

That's Russians spelled P U T I N.

Because, hey, this annoying, and unexpected, temporary gig at 1600 Pennsylvania is preventing him from being in full blown hustle mode.

But it's not preventing him much.

And it won't be preventing him forever.

So, those who, passionately, angrily, even understandably, start hollering the word "traitor" in any sentence that includes or involves the words Donald Trump need to be aware that their passions and angers are, again, understandable, but their use of the word "traitor" is, to an extent, incorrect.

And the word you're looking for is hustler.

There is, of course, the inevitable, knee jerk response to this theory, something along the lines of "it's simply not possible that anyone could be so stupid as to believe that he could get away with committing treason for no other reason than to insure that there will be a Trump International Hotel and Country Club Red Square Edition sometime around, say, 2021."

To that, I can only offer you this.

It is, in fact, absolutely possible.

Because Donald Trump shows every sign of being one of the dumbest men.

That's not a typo, either.

 





 

 

"It's Time To Put Both A, and The, Stop To All Of This Gun Business"

And, now, a word about guns.

Stop.

Before, though, you either vigorously nod your head and raise your fist in passionate agreement or passionately shake you head and raise your fist so as to give us a clear view of your oft mentioned cold, someday dead, fingers, hear me out regarding that word about guns.

Stop.

Let's stop arguing with each other. Let's stop smacking the same worn out birdie of bang bang bang back and forth at each other across the net that serves as the metaphorical line between laying down arms and locking and loading. Let's stop lowering our standards while raising our voices and screaming at each other, determined to yell louder and be heard more clearly and finally change your mind before you change my mind, let's just make up our minds to once and for all and forever.....

Stop.

Stop discussing.
Stop debating.
Stop debasing.
Stop denigrating.
Just.
Stop.

If you are one of those seeking workable solutions to the epidemic of gun violence and death in this country, stop blasting away at those who oppose you.

Hmm. Blasting away.

Remarkable how many gun metaphors seem to fit so easily and readily into our every day vocabulary, isn't it.

If, on the other hand, you are one of those who are determined to be unmoved, unswayed and/or unwilling to hear any other point of view, opinion, perspective, possibility or plot that plays out with any other language but the hallowed, traditional collection of words that make up the 2nd Amendment of the Constitution of the United States, then stop firing back at those who oppose you.

Hmmm. Firing back.

Okay.
Back to the point.
And the word.
Stop.

Meanwhile, the remainder of this sharing is directed at those who all into the aforementioned unmoved, unswayed, unwilling to hear any other point of view, opinion, perspective, possibility or plot that plays out with any other language but the hallowed, traditional collection of words that make up the 2nd Amendment of the Constitution of the United States

And before you get all defensive, feeling put upon and persecuted, be aware that I'm in your corner. 

In a manner of speaking, to a point, with one condition.

Turns out that I'm not the only one who is prepared to advocate on your behalf. Australian humorist Jim Jeffries is right here with me, behind you.

In a manner of speaking, to a point, with one condition.

"..... I am all for your Second Amendment rights. I think you should be able to have guns. It’s in your constitution. What I am not for is bullshit arguments and lies. There is one argument and one argument alone for having a gun, and this is the argument… “Fuck off. I like guns.” It’s not the best argument, but it’s all you’ve got. And there’s nothing wrong with it. There’s nothing wrong with saying, “I like something. Don’t take it away from me.” But don’t give me this other bullshit...."  

The complete piece Jeffries wrote and performs is readily available on line, just Google him and/or Australia gun routine. If you're the workable solution seeker type, you owe it to yourself to give it a listen. It's thoughtful, insightful and very funny.

And if you're one of the unmoved and unswayed, you owe it to yourself to give it a listen. Because it's thoughtful, insightful and very funny.

Not that that matters a hoot in hell to you because chances are you're not all that inclined to see any humor, let alone the humor, in anything having to do with your right to bear arms.

So, let's just say that you owe it to me...and folks like me....to give it a listen, pay close attention to what Jeffries says and be ready to offer a little something to me and mine in return for our support of your continued "right" to own whatever you want, as many as you want, whenever you want, anytime you want, to do with as you damn well please.

And that little something.....is to stop.

Stop trying to make unlimited ownership of, and access to, any and all guns at any and all times, out to be something patriotic, along the lines of that being given liberty or being death chestnut.

Because there's nothing at all patriotic about the level of infantile selfishness that's involved when someone's sole thought is that, come hell or high water, they will be allowed to own whatever they want whenever they want. Even if children are being murdered in cold blood in their classrooms and school hallways.

Stop trying to come off like some kind of Constitutional expert, offering your irrefutable interpretation of what the framers of that document precisely intended when they worded the 2nd Amendment. There are, literally, tens of thousands of actual, highly educated, credentialed scholars, officially certified to offer expert opinion on the matter and even they cannot come to enough of a consensus to settle the matter once and for all. That leaves you and your bumper sticker/red cap authorized membership leaving a lot, oh, hell, leaving everything, to be desired when it comes to mouthing off about it.

Stop saying really stupid things like "for protection" or "for hunting" or, even, "just for pleasure and recreation" when it comes to a really lame, not to mention insulting, attempt to justify needing to own weapons whose sole reason for existing is to kill as many people as possible in as little time as necessary.

While we're at it, stop saying "need" and start using the accurate, honest word.

"Want".

You want guns.
You enjoy guns.
You get a kick out of guns.
You get off on guns.

Or as a thoughtful, insightful very funny Australian eloquently expressed it....

"...There’s nothing wrong with saying, “I like something. Don’t take it away from me.”

Yeah. What he said. 

Oh...and this.... 

"...But don’t give me this other bullshit...."  

Yeah. What he said, there, too.

We know it's bullshit.

You know it's bullshit.

Just.

Stop.