Sunday, September 10, 2017

"...At Some Point, It's Not Outside The Realm Of Possiblity That We Will Hear "My Fellow Americans...Pull My Finger..."


Hillary Clinton's new book is entitled "What Happened".

Ordinarily, any non-fiction work would require a title with a little more information in it to entice potential readers to pick up, thumb through and/or get right down to the reading.

In Hillary's case, not even close to necessary.

With one possible exception.

Exception noted momentarily.

At the moment of Hurricane Irma's very unwelcome arrival in the Florida Keys, on its way to barometrically bitch slapping Florida, as a whole, and points/states north, having already having laid waste, metaphorically, and literally, to Cuba and other points Caribbean, Donald Trump hunkered down in front of the teleprompter and issued the following statement.



"My administration is monitoring the situation around the clock, and we're in constant communications with all of the governors, with the state and local officials. We're doing everything possible to help save lives and support those in need. Again, we've never seen anything like this. Together, we will restore, recover and rebuild. We will do it quickly."

"This is a storm of enormous destructive power, and I ask everyone in the storm path to heed all instructions, get out of its way. And government officials, I know you're working so hard, you'll never work like this, and I appreciate also your bravery. Property is replaceable but lives are not, and safety has to come first."
 
 
Those among us with a semblance of oration savvy would have likely begun wrapping it up from there, with a little "with continued commitment" razz and some "can do/will do " matazz and kaboomed the big finish with a dynamic, drum roll, please, "God bless you and God bless America", exit state right.

Donald Trump is not one of those with a semblance of oration savvy among us.


"I think now,", he continued, "with what's happened with the hurricane, I'm gonna ask for a speed up," he said. "I wanted a speed up anyway, but now we need it even more so. So we need to simplify the tax code, reduce taxes very substantially on the middle class, and make our business tax more globally competitive. We're the highest anywhere in the world right now."
 
 
 
Well, gee. There it is.
 
As predictable, and, at the same time, unwelcome, as the hemorrhoid resulting from trying to force something instead of just letting it happen naturally.
 
The inevitable addendum to the address, the rider attached to the rhetoric. 
 
The "this should be the end of my inspirational, presidential reassurance to you and your loved ones, but I'm a blunt tool who wouldn't know inspiration if it came roaring into Mar A Lago at 155 miles per....
 
Oh. Wait.
 
And said addendum translates out a little something like this.
 
"While you're either living in terror that your house is about to blow up around you or your going to see ten feet of water come crashing into your living room, while your primary, primal thoughts are focused on the simple things in life, like, simply keeping you and your family alive, let me tell you about why the visit of this death dealing mass of wind and rain and flood and thunder and lightning and tornadoes is a wonderful opportunity for me tell you how I want to give all my rich crony homies a massive tax break and wrap that tax break up in the same old tired package of 'I'm really doing it all for you' but you are going to get screwed in the end, bet the farm, baby."
 
Or the lanai, of course, depending on your rural versus suburban status there in the Sunshine State.
 
The knee jerk, bet the lanai, go-to response to criticism of Trump's tactlessness ("...paging Miss Conway.....Kellyanne Conway to the stage, please...") will be something along the lines of "The President was offering heartfelt support of those in the storm's path along with The President's assurance that The President believes that The President's administration is the most effective and efficient thing to come along since the Miracle Mop and that The President wants those who will be left devastated by the storm to rest assured that The President really wants them to know that The President believes that they really do deserve the peace of mind that will come from knowing that The President wants the tax code to be repealed and replace....."

Oh. Wait.

Scratch that. Repeal and replace has been taken off the list of do-ables for the time being.

And, if you happen to be in search of a fun, new drinking game, keep an ear out, during those full throated defenses of the Donald, how many times the term "The President" is injected into the flow of the conversation.

It's almost as if they believe, or have been instructed, that the more they say it, the more it legitimizes it. And them. And him.
 
Meanwhile, the knee jerk, bet the lanai and throw in the wicker furniture, go-to response to Trump's tactlessness from the anti-Trump part of the population (all eighty million of them, give or take)  of course, will almost certainly include the standard objection/mild outrage at "politicizing a tragic event".  

And there's probably a case to be made that that's exactly what he's doing.
 
But let's put a pin in that.

Or more effectively and efficiently, let's simply concede that because we all, all of us, Trump friend and foe alike, have long ago been shown, to an immoral certainty, that the man will say anything, as many times as he perceives it needs to be said, to get what he wants when he wants in whatever form he wants.
 
There's a broader theme and a larger point.
 
And that will bring us back to Hillary.
 
Her book is her take on the reasons why she wasn't elected President last November.
 
The use of the catchy and, at the same time, enigmatic, two word title covering both the what...and the why.
 
Pretty sure there's one why that doesn't get a lot of ink in her interpretation.
 
Not so much because she didn't want to include it, necessarily, but because it didn't rank high on her personal radar.
 
When it probably should have.
 
Because from this set of eyes and ears, it was, in the POV of a lot of those in love with their new red caps, numero uno on the list of why.
 
Because Donald is seen a member of the family.
 
A particular kind of member of the family.

We've all got one. Some of us even are one.

Over a year ago, when it became apparent that the Trump candidacy was no longer an irritating, if comic, pebble in the national shoe and was fast turning into a surreal boulder rolling down the mountain, I spent a fair amount of time on my, then, weekly news/talk radio show dealing with the inanity, bordering on insanity, of people who suddenly found obtuse to be a quality they liked in a candidate for office. 

Even the millions of those people who didn't even necessarily know what the word obtuse means.

And time and time, and time, again, throughout the primary season and, then, fall election campaign, as Trump made putting a foot into a mouth the latest sensation sweeping the nation, I heard or, truth be told, endured callers to the show who, when asked how they could possibly continue to support a man so egregiously lacking in the basic social skills, responded with what, to this admittedly jaded, satirical mind, the six word phrase that pays.

"He tells it like it is."
 
It became the predictable go-to response of those who had fallen deeply, almost dreamily, in love with the idea of making America great again.
 
And apparently not just because it came with a cap.
 
My go-to response became equally predictable.
 
"I had an uncle who used to get stinking drunk at family wedding receptions and always somehow found a way to get hold of the microphone. Let me clue you. Telling it like it is isn't always necessarily a virtue."
 
Pretty early on, I could tell, on the scale of this side or that, where my perspective fell.
 
Mostly on deaf ears.
 
Because when you're in love, you're in love, you're in love, you're in love, you're in love with a wonderful guy?
 
You're in love. Whether he's actually a wonderful guy or not.
 
And let's not forget the cap. That sealed a lotta deals.
 
Hillary's book is filled with names, dates, reasons, excuses, rationalizations, justifications, yada, yada about why Donald got to move into the big house on Pennsylvania Ave and she got the gift of time to write a book about why Donald got to move into the big house on Pennsylvania Ave. 

And I haven't read the book. May or may not. Nothing she offers will change my own mind when answering the question implied by the title of that book.

What happened was that enough people in enough states with sufficient Electoral College votes to dramatically plot twist the predicted outcome of the 2016 election dramatically twisted the plot.

For no better reason than they felt some kind of Freud meets Duck Dynasty meets Kafka kinship to a guy who wouldn't know grace or style or class or tact or subtlety or inspiration if it came roaring into Mar-A-Lago at 155 mph.

The kind of blunt tool of a guy who doesn't think twice about showing up stinking drunk at family weddings and grabbing the mic.

The kind of blunt tool of a guy who doesn't think twice about tacking a taxation oration on the end of what was, it turns out, pretty much only in theory, supposed to be a presidential address of support and assurance and...wait for it...leadership.
 
I said, at the outset, that the title of Hillary's book required no lengthy explanations.
 
Because anybody with a pulse knows exactly what she means by "what happened".
 
If there's a nit to pick, it might only be that the punctuation could have gone either way.
 
What Happened. Period. As in "here's what happened".
 
Or...
 
What Happened? Question mark. As in "how in God's infinite universe, could this have happened?"
 
Moot point, in the end. 
 
Because either declaratively, or interrogatively, the bottom line remains.
 
What happened was that we've all got a blunt tool in the family.
 
And family is family.
 
Most especially when it comes with a cap.


 
 
 
 
 
 



 
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday, September 2, 2017

"...If You Think About It, The Whole Crotch Grabbing Thing Is Chock Full Of Irony..."


David Steinberg was a popular, fairly well known comic in the 1970's

In one of his comedy monologues, he shared the story of a guest appearance on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson which also featured Dr. David Reuben, a physician whose trendy book, "Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex (But Were Afraid To Ask)" was a best seller at the time. The book was a candid explanation of sexual activity and terms, fairly "risque" in those days, but written with a wit that made it both entertaining and palatable to those whose moral panties were easily bunched.

Steinberg shared that during the course of Reuben's segment with Johnny, the doctor took the conversation into the subject of masturbation and started out by offering, probably owing to more traditional values and ethics, there were, in fact, many people who experienced the guilt that accompanied the act of self gratification.

Steinberg, ever the humorist and never at a loss for the quick wit, interjected into the chat, "actually, Johnny, the doctor is correct. Personally, though, the reason I feel guilty about masturbation is that I'm so bad at it."

Cue considerable audience applause and laughter.

And now, hold that thought.

Pun unintended, but somehow almost predictable.

During my periodic guest hosting gigs on talk radio, I've pretty much made it standard operating procedure, of late, to steer away from any conversation having to do with Donald Trump. 

Unless he says or does something "catastrophic", even on a Trumpian curve, I tend to choose from the five or six kabillion other crazy things going on in this life at any given moment and let America somehow make itself great again without any help from me or those who listen.

Not so much because the topic of Trump fails to generate calls from opinionated, if not particularly well informed, callers, calls which are, of course, the bread and butter of that particular format, putting the "talk" in talk radio.

Because, given the peculiar, and unique, nature of the Trump personality, unique to both life in general and this particular stint in the Oval Office, we've all, friend, foe, supporter, detractor, Hatfield or McCoy, reached a point where any and all conversations about the Donald tend to very quickly turn into nothing more than variations, most often unpleasant and unproductive variations, on the same, sad, tired theme.

Theme being...he is either God's gift to a nation desperate for bold, new direction and leadership...or he is very likely going to be the catalyst for the end of life on the planet as we have known it.

And, truth be told, in the beginning, it was fun, if a little psychologically exhausting fun, to listen to, and/or participate in, the kind of passionate, emotional, even a little psychotic banter/yammer/yada yada that Trump has inspired on the nation's talk airwaves.

Now, frankly, it has become like being involved in a brutal and contentious divorce, nerves ever raw, feelings ever sensitive, tempers ever flaring and ready, locked and loaded. And any attempts to have a reasonable, measured and meaningful discussion about anything immediately, if not sooner, tailspin into a pouting and/or shouting and/or screaming match.

And while that kind of primal spewing might make for what the consultants refer to as "compelling radio", it is, at least for this radio talk show host, what George Harrison long ago, in another context, referred to as "a drag....a well known drag."

So, the topic of Trump is on my no fly list. Because, at some point, screaming and squealing, even the screaming and squealing of a delighted child on Christmas morning, becomes the psychological equivalent of fingernails on a blackboard.

And compelling so easily, and inevitably, morphs into cringing.

If'n I was ever to, again, begin broaching the subject of he who shall not be named on air, though, I'm thinking I would re-open the Panderer's Box by offering up a point of view I think has been mentioned, in token fashion, from time to time, over the past year and especially since January 20, but, for my money, should, at this point in our story, be front and center, knocking out of the top spot on the charts all those headline generating, water cooler debate inspiring cherries of chat like his tweets and his personal and political tone deafness and his arrogance and his childishness and his petulance and a narcissism on a scale that makes any, even all, of the Kardashian clan look like clones of Mother Teresa.

And that particular point of view that needs to be at the head of a very long line of lacks, cracks and flaws in the presentation of this real estate developer who reality showed himself into a leader of the free world gig, is, like many of those lacks, cracks and flaws, an "ility".

As in accountability, responsibility, fallibility, instability.

No, kats and kiddies, ridin' high on our terrific, just terrific, top ten Trump ility's, here's that sour not sweet, can't be beat, inevitability.

Give it up for....inability.

Steve Chapman writes for the Chicago Tribune. Pretty sure from the tone and tenor of his writings that he doesn't show up all that often at the love and worship rallies nattily attired in wife beater T and Make America Great Again one size fits all, fits even better if you're a skinhead, cap. His not being a Trump cheerleader, though, doesn't automatically diminish, or disqualify, his slant on the situation.

No matter what Kellyanne Conway would, bet the farm, have to say about it.

 He wrote the following, early this past summer.



The people who voted for Trump knew they would be getting a disrupter, a critic of business-as-usual and an enemy of political correctness. Many also realized they were electing a bully and a braggart. 

But they may not have known what they were getting above all else: an incompetent.

There is no other way to explain most of what he has done in the White House. His most formidable opponent couldn't do half as much to foil Trump as Trump himself has done.

His travel policy was rushed out, blocked by courts, withdrawn, revised and blocked again. 

Administration lawyers, who hope to convince the Supreme Court it had no unconstitutional anti-Muslim motives, have been undercut by his tweets, which convey the opposite.

So flagrant is the contradiction that some analysts suspect he has a hidden logic. They speculate that Trump might prefer to lose his ban so he could blame the courts if there were a U.S. terrorist attack carried out by foreigners.

Let me suggest that they are overthinking this. Trump has no record of being deviously clever. He has a record of acting rashly out of ignorance, fury and hubris. He makes needless statements that harm his legal case because he's a self-destructive oaf.

His dismissal of FBI Director James Comey followed that pattern. The White House claimed that Trump fired him at the recommendation of the Justice Department because he botched the investigation of Hillary Clinton's emails.

But Trump then admitted making the decision before he got the Justice memo, saying he objected to Comey's probe of connections between his presidential campaign and the Kremlin. He thus helped bring on a special prosecutor, which could be fatal to his presidency.

Nothing about his performance suggests he has any idea how to handle his office. Trump complains that the Senate is obstructing his nominations. But at last count, he has yet to pick anyone for nearly 80 percent of the positions that require Senate confirmation.

On one issue after another, he has had to flee from ill-considered positions. He said the U.S. might junk its "One China" policy — only to be forced to back down by Chinese President Xi Jinping. He lambasted President Barack Obama's "dumb deal" to take refugees from Australia but eventually decided to honor it.

In April, Trump announced that the following week, he would unveil his tax reform plan. This promise, reported Politico, "startled no one more than Gary Cohn, his chief economic adviser writing the plan. Not a single word of a plan was on paper, several administration officials said." The "plan" the White House released was one page long.

Trump promised to repeal and replace Obamacare but had great trouble getting a bill through the House, partly because he didn't know enough about the substance to negotiate with any skill. The legislation finally approved by the House was pronounced dead on arrival in the Senate. Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell said recently he doesn't know how a repeal bill would get enough votes to pass.

Trump's incompetence is self-perpetuating. A clueless executive is forced to rely on aides who are mediocre — or worse — because better people are repelled. Vacant jobs and poor staff work, aggravated by bad management, lead to more failure, which makes it even harder to attract strong hires — and easier for opponents to get their way.

Expect more of the same. Trump came to office uninformed, unprepared and oblivious to his shortcomings, with no capacity to recognize or overcome them. He is in way over his head, and not waving but drowning.



My own research and writing could, of course, have me piling on with a couple of blogs and/or podcasts worth of backup examples, capable, I have no doubt whatsoever, of proving beyond any shadow of a reasonable doubt, to any jury made up of even marginally functioning human minds that this defendant is guilty of inability in the first degree.

But any further flagellation would be like continued pounding of the meat when its already ready to be cooked. And, of course, additional analysis would, at this point, tailspin us into yet another pouting and/or shouting and/or screaming match.

So, I'll just let Chapman's words serve the purpose of my including them.

And add only two wrap up thoughts.

First, yeah, what he said.

Second, were I to suddenly find myself sitting next to Johnny and Dr. Reuben, I'd almost certainly be unable to resist interjecting into the conversation my own satirical slant, adapted, and adjusted, of course, to fit the topic of Chief Executive chastising as opposed to chicken choking.

"actually, Johnny, that's correct. I don't like Donald Trump and probably wouldn't want him within a mile of my house, let alone in my life, let alone pretending to be a leader of my country, because, frankly, John, I think he's a reprehensible, more than a little pathetic and not just a little sad excuse for a man.....but, personally, the reason I don't like him being president.....

...is that he's so bad at it."

Cue considerable audience applause.

Laughter, not so much.