I’ve been going through computer hard drives
both at home and work, clearing things out, because you should do that
periodically. And I came across some photos of the environs of my last
residence.
That's one of the downsides of living on a ridge: the climb is always on your return trip. Sixty-three steps up this hill every afternoon
on my way home from work. I’m very glad indeed that I don’t have to walk that
any more.
Following on yesterday’s post about the not
hardest working Kleptocrat in show business during the #TrumpShutdown, here’s
another take on the key photo. As noted in, well, pretty much everywhere, the
attempt to persuade, well, anyone that the Chaos Monkey was doing anything
productive, it failed.
(Here’s one
deconstruction, if you want to go there. Share Blue leans way left, but for
purposes of today’s discussion, it’s close enough for government work.)
But, once again, Twitter has done itself proud.
This is from a different thread, started by Aunt Crabby
with that same pathetic fake photo. (Pro tip: Aunt Crabby seldom disappoints.)
I like how, whenever someone uses a simile or
metaphor in a discussion of the Kleptocrat (or his minions)—impulse control of
a toddler, attention span of a cocker spaniel, dumb as a box of rocks—someone else
pops up to defend toddlers, cocker spaniels and rocks.
This thread was short of Photoshop skills, but
there were a lot of excellent exchanges.
And this one takes us exactly back to reality.
Sadly.
During the #TrumpShutdown, someone must have
told the Kleptocrat that he needed to look like he was doing something to move
negotiations forward. So they had him pose at the Resolute desk, with the phone
handset to his head.
The utter stupidity of this was apparent to
everyone on Twitter, as evidenced in this one thread:
I love how the Photoshoppers stepped into the
breech.
But basically the gesture was as empty as
everything else in this pathetic git’s life. So I’m glad we got a few giggles
out of this at least.
In the wake of all the
Russian crackpot crap pushed on Americans during the 2016 election, Facebook is
trying to avoid getting more than its knuckles rapped, and has promised to limit
stories that appear in your feed to crackpot crap your friends have posted. Instead
of (one presumes) stuff that’s essentially advertising.
I don’t know when this
is meant to go into effect, but it can’t come too soon for me. I’ve noticed a
lot of things like animal videos (marked “popular on Facebook”) or stories from
corporate accounts (marked “[friend name] likes [company name]”) in my
timeline. Neither of these categories is anything a friend has specifically
chosen to share, and I’m sick to death of it.
But now I see they’ve
expanded it further. This showed up yesterday, and it was so ludicrous it
stopped me in my scrolling tracks.
There is nothing in my
multi-year history on Facebook that has ever indicated I’m in any way at all
interested in cleaning. And there’s nothing that will ever make cleaning fun—oddly
or otherwise—for me.
Right after the 2016 election, I gave my
thoughts on what we were in for with the least-qualified president in history
(yes, worse than Warren G. Harding and James Buchanan). While I was right that we
were in for a nightmare, I actually grossly underestimated the scope of the
possibilities for catastrophe. I’d been counting on the checks and balances put
in place by the founding fathers, and did not anticipate the level of
sycophancy to which the GOP in Congress would sink—turns out they’ve all had
their spines and their consciences surgically removed, and their only position
is self-abasement before the Chaos Monkey in hopes that they can retain control
of the legislative branch (and therefore access to their big donors’ money).
At this point, I have no words for the lot of
them, from Ryan and McConnell on down. There are a few who talk tough, but in
the end vote for whatever the Kleptocrat has decreed. The founding fathers,
having just fought a war against a system of government based on the Divine
Right of Kings, just never imagined they’d have to hardwire in protections
against a class of legislative toadies. Oops.
In the year since the inauguration (fun fact:
not only was the event sparsely attended, but turns out that many of those who
did show up were Russian “businessmen”,
hoping to be first through the door to cut deals with their new tovarich-in-chief;
quelle surprise), we’ve seen a constant stream of lies; missteps;
unconstitutional executive orders; playground-bully diplomacy; assaults on consumers,
immigrants, workers, science,the environment, our allies, history and basically
everyone/thing that doesn’t fit into his view of Those Who Can Further Enrich
Me. He and his Keystone Kops Kabinet have made the United States an
international laughingstock, as he blusters and preens, while the GOP keeps
nodding and applauding him.
(I personally had never imagined that we would
witness a group of high officials go round the room and give public thanks to
God on camera for the opportunity to
serve any elected official, much less an American one—but we have, twice. So
far.)
And every single revelation of yet another
scummy, disgusting behavior only makes his supporters like him all the more.
Because he is living proof that—when they win the Powerball—they too can be as
disgusting and scummy as he is, and no one will turn away from them. This is
especially true of his “Christian” supporters, who have been remarkably silent
about his affair with a porn star that began four months after his third wife
gave birth and continued for a year. They’re apparently not only down with the
adultery, but with him paying the woman $130,000 hush money a month before the
2016 election. Hey—if that was necessary to put a racist, misogynistic,
homophobic, ignorant xenophobe with no notion of governing and no human empathy
into office, then it was clearly God’s will, and therefore money well spent.
(Well, okay—they’re used to that sort of payoff from the likes of Jimmy
Swaggart and Jim Bakker.)
That ignorance of how government works has
resulted in this administration looking like amateur hour, from the first
immigration bans (overturned again and again by the courts) down to the current
government shutdown. Mitch McConnell (R-Bring-back-slavery) basically said he’d
be all for whatever the Chaos Monkey wanted, if he could just figure out what
that is. And Chuck Schumer (D-NY) declared on the Senate floor that trying to deal
with the Orange One is like “negotiating with Jell-O.” Klepto, of course
(and his supporters) thinks that’s good business practice, when in fact it’s
ineptitude.
And so here we are at the #TrumpShutdown.
(I make it a point never to use the Kleptocrat’s
name online, because I don’t want to contribute to his Klout score, even if the
context is negative; he and his ilk think that every mention of him attests to
his greatness. However, given his/their pathetic attempt to place the blame for
the current federal shutdown—the result of a Republican-controlled White House,
Senate and House’s inability to pass even another Continuing Resolution on the
budget—on Democrats, has led me, this once, to include this hashtag, which
burns his bacon: #TrumpShutdown. Feel free to use it on every social media
account you have.)
The Kleptocrat had Air Force One’s engines all
warmed up to fly him down to Florida on Friday, so he could get another weekend
of golf in and be the star of a fundraiser at his West Palm Beach club. He had
every intention of going there no matter what, but someone (my money’s on John
Kelly) took away his car keys and told him the optics of him doing that while
the government ground to a halt would be bigly bad. So he reverted to type and
tweeted how the Democrats were being mean
and making him suffer!
As Saturday came and went, with no escape to
Florida and counting the $100,000- and $250,000-a-couple gate for the “celebration”
of his inaugural anniversary, I’m picturing a toy-tossing tantrum of titanic
proportions at the White House. (The event went on, although I wonder if there
were refunds of the $250,000 tickets, which included participating in a “roundtable”
with the Kleptocrat. No Klepto, no roundtable, so… Yeah, okay, no—obviously it’s
harder to pry money out of the Chaos Monkey’s tiny hands than to get sense out
of one of his supporters. So there were no refunds.) At any rate, I would not
want to be the White House staffer who had to bring him his 14th
Diet Coke of the day.
But, hey—you want to celebrate the achievements
in the first year of this #shithole administration? How about these for
starters: first to be elected with the help of a hostile foreign power; most
days vacationing; most games of golf played; least number of bills signed;
lowest approval ratings; most provable lies; most cabinet firings/resignations;
most criminal indictments. (Also: first to make one of George Carlin's Seven Words You Can't Say on TV publishable in broadsheet newspapers.)
So that’s where we are today. But there’s cause
for hope, and therefore for gratitude.
A year ago, I reported on my experience at the
Women’s March on DC. There was so much to describe, it took me all week (here,
and here,
and here,
and here,
and here,
and here).
It was an extraordinary day, not only being part of it in DC, but also knowing
that women (and men and children) across the country and around the world came
out in their millions to serve notice that they weren’t going to stand idle
while a pussy-grabbing (and—as we now know—porn star-banging) ignoramus used
the planet as his personal piggy bank.
By way of reminder, here’s a comparison of the how
the National Mall looked at the Kleptocrat’s inauguration:
Versus the same real estate an hour before the
Women’s March on DC was supposed to have begun:
This year I was unable to join the first
anniversary march, being laid up with what I’m hoping is not the flu. But I am
greatly heartened by the reports of hundreds of thousands of women and men and
children who took to the streets in US cities in every state, and tens of
thousands more who did the same around the world—to remind those who try to
pervert the principles of democracy and decency that we the people will resist
and we the people will prevail.
(I—and thousands of others—got a laugh out of
him tweeting about the great weather across the country on Saturday being
perfect for marchers to get out and celebrate all his accomplishments. Although
it is concerning that delusions of tertiary syphilitic proportions seem to be
the guiding lights for someone
with this much power.)
I am grateful today for these people, and the millions
of more like them, for literally standing up and being counted. I am grateful
today for the voters
in elections around the country—from Alabama to Minnesota—serving notice
that even in the face of GOP voter suppression, we the people reject the party
of plutocrats and racists. I am grateful today for the 23 (so far and counting)
congressional Repugnants who’ve announced their retirement or resignation
because they know they wouldn’t win if they ran again, or because they’re
fleeing the results of being caught out in various crimes. (I resent every
nickel in retirement pay they’re getting, and look forward to the door hitting
their butts on the way out.) I am grateful today for Special Counsel Robert S.
Mueller, III—USMC combat veteran of Vietnam, former director of the FBI; and
generally acknowledged straight-arrow, unflappable, untouchable in pursuit of
the truth—and his team, who are continuing their probe into Russian
interference in the 2016 election despite the #TrumpShutdown, and despite the
efforts of GOP apparachiks in fear of being uncovered for their own kompromat
to close down the investigation.
And I’m grateful today for a new crop of
Democratic politicians who are standing up for the interests of all, regardless
of ability to grease their palms. Like Senator Tammy Duckworth (D-Ill., and Lt.
Col. USA, Ret.), who lost both legs and suffered damage to an arm when an RPG shot down
the Black Hawk helicopter she was co-piloting in Iraq. A few years ago, while in
the House of Representatives, Duckworth neatly flayed a
federal contractor with a “disabled veteran” status whose “disability” came
from injuring his foot…playing football at a military prep school.
So watch her this weekend flay the five-time-Vietnam-era-draft-deferred
Chaos Monkey for flying the false flag that the #TrumpShutdown will cripple and
penalize our armed services.
I love her choice of words—she won’t refer to
him as president, just current occupant of the White House.
This year has taken a toll on me—the actions of
#CadetBoneSpurs, his appointees and his congressional toadies scare the bejesus
out of me and depresses me, both for my own future, but also for that of the country, the world
and the future. It’s true that the evil that men do lives after their time in
power, and we’ll have a crap ton of evil to clean up after this lot are
frogmarched out of office. But this weekend’s activities give me hope—the reminder that we march, we run, we vote and we take back—and for
that I am grateful.
