Swaggering into the sunset

Welp, we are at The Mouse That Roared stage of our political life.

Yesterday, soon-to-be-ex-Secretary of State Mike Pompeo canceled his final taxpayer-funded junket to Europe because the Foreign Minister of the Duchy of Luxembourg told him he wouldn’t be received.

Over the past week, Pompeo has been trying to buff up his future political prospects with a flock of mendacious tweets on his official government account bragging about his (non-existent) “accomplishments” as secretary. Back when he replaced Tillerson, he decided that the department had lost its “swagger” and announced he would restore it. All last week’s tweets were hashtagged #swagger. Including one that was ludicrous in the extreme:

(There was another one, in which he asseverated that the United States is safer now than it was four years ago; yes, there was.)

Well, yesterday, Luxembourg led the way in telling Pompeo where to go. Luxembourg, the place to register your shell corporation if you don’t want any of that pesky government or tax oversight into your business. The day after the coup attempt on the Capitol, Foreign Minister Jean Asselborn referred to Cadet Bonespurs as a “criminal” and a “political pyromaniac”, so you can understand why he wouldn’t want to pose for a photo op with the pyromaniac’s purveyor of petrol. Leaders of the European Union and NATO, on which Bonespurs and Pompeo have been whizzing for the past few years, also declined to entertain him this week.

So, instead of gripping and grinning across Western Europe, Pompeo says he’s focusing on transition activities. Which, before Luxembourg slammed the door in his face, evidently were meant to perk along nicely without him.

And, on the home front (as it were), the Joint Chiefs of Staff have issued a military-wide memo condemning the Capitol attack and affirming that on 20 January, Joe Biden will be the commander-in-chief, so no shenanigans.

I mean—in a single day, the Secretary of State was sat down by Luxembourg and the heads of the armed forces had to remind everyone in uniform that we are a nation of laws, not thugs.

I cannot tell you how disappointed I am in 2021.

 

Recommended for you

A while ago I was browsing skin care products on Amazon. Normally my eyes don’t even pause on sponsored items or the “customers also looked at” suggestions. (Seriously, I just don’t see any ads on any website anymore.) However, for some reason, this caught my attention, and I don't know why, because they're all black blurs on my laptop screen:

I’m thinking that Amazon’s algorithm went very wrong.

Unless Amazon thinks my skin needs a really deep cleaning?

 

 

Gratitude Monday: Servants' hearts

Whew—what a week, eh? If you’re reading this, you and I have lived through the Pennsylvania Avenue Putsch. It remains to be seen what consequences the rioters and their political allies will suffer; at a minimum, a lotta law enforcement folks gotta lotta ‘splainin’ to do about why the Capitol was left nearly defenseless on an extremely important work day.

I’d personally like to hear from those posturing asshats Dan Crenshaw and Matt Gaetz about how they personally defended the country from insurrectionists. Especially if Nestor was in danger.

Also—impeach the motherfucker already. Again.

But there are two stories that emerged from that horror show, stories that reminded me that for every aggrieved, screeching Confederate flag-waving loser about to become friends with their worst nightmare in gen pop, there are dedicated, humble, good people who represent the best in us.

The first story is about Representative Andy Kim, Democrat, of New Jersey. In the early hours of Thursday morning, after the Joint Session reconvened and certified the election, the son of Korean immigrants walked outside the chamber and looked at all the rubbish left by the insurrectionists on the rotunda floor. Janitors and National Guard members were picking it up, so he asked for a trash bag, got down on the floor and started clearing it away. The photo taken by AP’s Andrew Harnik, makes me weep even now.

“When you see something you love that’s broken, you want to fix it,” he said. “I love the Capitol. I’m honored to be there. This building is extraordinary and the rotunda in particular is just awe-inspiring. How many countless generations have been inspired in that room? It really broke my heart and I just felt compelled to do something…What else could I do?”

I take this message seriously—when something you love is broken, you want to fix it. Even if it means getting down on your hands and knees and sweeping trash into bags after an exceptionally hard day at work.

The second story is about the Chaplain of the House of Representatives, Rear Admiral Margaret Kibben, for whom Wednesday was her third day on the job. As the mob swarmed closer to the chamber, a House aide asked Kibben if she’d say a prayer. Kibben, a combat veteran, took the microphone and asked God for “covering”. “

“It was a matter of asking for God’s covering and a hedge of protection around us,” she said, “And that in the chaos, the spirit would descend in the room to offer us peace and order. That we would look to care for each other, even as we are under stress.”

As the Chamber was evacuated, she continued, seeking out people who looked particularly distressed. In the secure room where they ended up, Kibben read from Psalm 46, ““God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea.” And then again prayed for a “covering peace and shelter”.

I think we could all take comfort from the notion of a covering peace, and I am grateful for that message emerging from such a gawdawful day.

I’m leaving you with one more thing, from a rather unexpected source (kind of like control of the Senate coming via...Georgia): Arnold Schwarzenegger recorded his thoughts on the insurrection, and it’s a succinct, heartfelt summary of the stakes.

When he speaks of the Servant’s Heart, I think of Kim and Kibben. When he speaks of tempering the blade, it gives me hope. For which I am grateful.

 

Breaking forth in cheers

There’s a meme that was making the rounds of Twitter:

“A Black man and a Jew walk into a bar in Georgia. The bartender asks, 'What can I get you, Senators?'”

So today I’m leaving aside all the coup crap and giving the space to honor the victory of Jon Ossoff and the Reverend Raphael Warnock, the two Democratic Senators from a state that’s about as Deep South as you can get. Their election is a testament to the changing demographics of our nation and to the amazing efforts of the even more amazing Stacey Abrams.

The song is, of course, “Marching through Georgia”. It was written in 1865 and commemorates the sweep through the state by the army commanded by William Tecumseh Sherman. (I thought about Cump Wednesday when “Elizabeth from Knoxville” was interviewed crying into a towel because she’d been maced by Capitol Police after she’d just stepped inside the building. “I was storming the Capitol,” she shrieked. “It’s a revolution!” She clearly had not expected war to be all hell.*)

(Okay, I lied when I said I was laying aside the coup.)

Here’s the Old Crow Medicine Show singing it. Crank up the volume for any right wing nut jobs in your vicinity. They’ll really appreciate it.

*Update: "Elizabeth from Knoxville" is apparently Elizabeth Koch, who lives in Maryland. And that towel may contain an onion, which she was rubbing into her eyes. Regardless, Elizabeth has some 'splaining to do.

 

Nightmare on Pennsylvania Avenue

Folks, I just do not know what to tell you.

I lived through the police riot outside the Democratic National Convention in 1968, the Days of Rage in ’69, the Vietnam War protests, and I still never thought I’d see what I did yesterday. While nearly 150 Representatives and Senators were in the process of an unconstitutional attempt to overturn the election, the sitting President of the United States stood in front of a mob of white nationalist thugs and urged them to march on the Capitol. And they did—because, hey, what would they have to worry about? They’re White!

So instead of a pile of bodies below the steps (which is what we’d have if they’d been Black), a few hundred terrorists got past the apparently unarmed Capitol Police, invaded the Capitol, swanned through the halls, crowed in the Senate chamber and took selfies in the offices of Senators and Representatives. (Some CP also posed for selfies with the thugs. I am not making that up.)

I am utterly disgusted. And appalled. And ashamed. And so fucking furious I could spit teeth. Cadet Bonespurs, Moscow Mitch, McCarthy, Hawley, Cruz, Rubio, Nunes—hell, every damned Republican who went along to get along for the past four years: this douchebaggery is on you. The assault on the national legislature is the logical outcome of four years of letting Bonespurs get away with high crimes and misdemeanors in exchange for some federal judges. You got your wish: democracy has been breached; how’d you like huddling in some secure basement room while the mob howled outside?

It’s also on whoever’s running federal policing in the District (the rally was on National Park Service property, and then the mob moved to the Capitol), who were armed to the teeth in June to tear gas and beat down BLM protestors, but who mostly looked dressed for a parade yesterday. And who did nothing more than pepper spray the terrorists.

Well, you know: White.

(At one point, there was a report that the cops were trying to “de-escalate” the situation. Yeah, because: White.)

Capitol Police haven’t had any problem literally hauling away healthcare protestors in wheelchairs, or arresting veterans protesting the war in Iraq. But white nationalists? “Tryna de-escalate, dude.”

What the hell happened to all the billions in post-9/11 Capitol security?

Nah—that was a rhetorical question.

Well, like I said at the beginning, I just do not know what to tell you.

 

 

 

Smart cookie

Last week, one of my colleagues (not a close one, which is good, because he’s one of those people who feels the need to contribute authoritatively on any subject) posted to a Teams channel that his daughter is doing a Girl Scout virtual cookie booth. It annoyed me, because selling Girl Scout cookies is meant to encourage skills in a girl that don’t happen when your parents basically do all the sales work for you.

I mean, standing at a table outside a grocery store, looking shoppers meaningfully in the eye is a thing. I get it that this year that's not Fauci-approved, but still.

Shortly thereafter, I found this on my doorstep:

Evidently “virtual booths” are what’s happening, but at least Wren got out of her room and put the pitch on people’s doorknobs.

Unless her dad did that for her.

Well, regardless, I ordered a box of Samoas.

 

 

Modern geometry

My employer had kind of a rough year in 2020. I mean—outside of the billionaire boys’ club, everyone did. But cyber security was just a 366-day dumpster fire and no alteration in the final digit on the date is going to change that.

So to mark this, the company (which I have to say is the cheapest tech org ever when it comes to swag) is offering all employees a tee-shirt gift. We had until yesterday to put in our size requirements using the below chart as guidance.

I don’t know where this thing originated, but this is the first time in my life that I have ever seen chest/bust measurements not expressed as circumference. I mean, what does “one-sided measurements” of a three-dimensional entity even mean?

I guess I’ll find out when the shirt arrives. I hope I can get into it.

 

 

Gratitude Monday: [tap, tap] Is this thing on?

Well, Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ. Looks like 2020 needs to be shot with a tranquillizer gun and then just humanely put down. Because Republicans—who have sworn an oath to protect and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, both foreign and domestic—have decided that the oath doesn’t actually prevent them from some light couping, if it gets them a head start on the 2024 presidential election, and they’re planning on spending Wednesday posturing and bloviating about how the votes of 74 million Americans somehow matter more than the votes of 81 million Americans.

That’s in addition to the Chaos Monkey (who spent an hour Saturday trying to whine Georgia’s secretary of state to magic up votes that would give the state to him) egging on the Incels- and Neck-Beards-R-Us crowd to swarm into the District They Call Columbia in their color-coordinated little outfits on Wednesday to engage in some heavy violence and criming so he can invoke the Insurrection Act, declare martial law and generally satisfy his ever-growing need for fuckery.

And they all are completely bollixing my first Gratitude Monday of the year.

Also, a few days ago a squirrel climbed up my screen door and looked me in the face as it peed right down the screen. I am just not in the mood.

However, it is Gratitude Monday and it is a new year. So at the moment, I am deeply grateful that at noon on 20 January, no matter what sedition kabuki the Repugs engage in or how much tear gas and tasers the pumped-up maskless crowd ingest—at noon on 20 January, Cadet Bonespurs ceases to be President of the United States. Whether he’s replaced by Joe Biden or Nancy Pelosi, it’s still all good.

 

 

Feels like years since it's been here

I think Android got confused yesterday. Or maybe super hopeful. Because this is what it was telling me was the temperature at 1600:

Well—we all are looking for the best from not-2020, aren’t we? Perhaps those madcap folks at Google were hitting the sauce early.

So on this first day and first Friday of the year, let’s have a song about turning things around.

 

 

Auld lang syne

Wherever you are and whatever your situation (since I know for a fact that no billionaires read this blog*), I’m hoping you’ll join me in giving 2020 a punt over the horizon. Whether you drink alcohol or not; eat some special food or not (and I hope you have food); commune with a higher power or not; celebrate alone or safely socially distanced—I think we can all agree that this has been one lousy year the world over.

As you know, later tonight I shall symbolically torch it and wash its taste out of my mouth with champagne. Whatever gets you through the transition, I’m with you.

It’s clear we aren’t done with Republican fuckery; at time of writing, Moscow Mitch is standing firm against COVID relief for the masses; the junior Senator from Missouri is ensuring a Congressional circus on 6 January; Cadet Bonespurs’ administration is refusing to share critical intelligence on adversaries with Biden’s team; vaccine distribution is a complete and utter clusterfuck (quelle surprise) and—in short—it’s business as usual.

The evil men do lives long after their political gig; there’s absolutely no good at all to be interrèd with their old, White male bones.

But tomorrow the fight continues. So take a cup o’ kindness, dropkick 2020 right out the door and suit up for 2021. Here's something to help the transition.

*The closest I get is Facebook’s scan of my posts; the scan that will label this content as “sensitive”.