The Schizophrenia of Testosterodoxy

“The strong do what they can and the weak suffer what they must.”

Thucydides' History of the Peloponnesian War

RECENTLY, U.S. REPRESENTATIVE THOMAS Massie, Republican of Kentucky's 4th District lost his bid for reelection, taken down by Ed Gallrein who, like the previous president, ostensibly campaigned from his basement, refusing to debate the incumbent in any forum.  "You can even let your campaign manager be the moderator," Massie offered at one point, only to receive no reply from his opponent's camp.

It was an odd circus.  This was a primary election and while not unprecedented, we've seen nothing quite like it.  Although Massie was usually simpatico with Donald Trump at a rate of over 90%,  it just wasn't good enough for ol' number 45 & 47.  Why was this?

Well, a couple reasons.  First, Massie is a bit of an odd duck, being a man who actually takes his oaths seriously, this one to the Constitution.  Odd because while every federali takes the same oath; almost nobody ever, ever gives it a second thought.  So on matters fiscal and military, Massie would invoke the Document nobody else takes seriously.  "What, dude, you're bringing up the Constitution?  What are you, like, a congressman or something?"

Constitutions technically stand in the way of every president since we've had the damn thing, so it's just naturally expected it will be referenced on inauguration days only when the Chief Justice whips out Millard Fillmore's bible and utters the new guy's full legal name, who then puts his left hand on the good book.

Or doesn't, as with 47's indoor coronation.   But I digress.

No, the thing that really rattled the Establishment, which transcends both Parties (which is one Party), is Massie's determination to get to the bottom of the Epstein files. That nasty little black book edited by Ghislaine Maxwell, currently being housed in the lap of luxury as far as minimum security prisons go, at Camp Bryan in Texas, contains names of some rich and powerful power brokers, including royalty who were engaging in the most deviant behavior imaginable.

Massie, "Yeah, maybe we oughtta do something about this."

Trump, "Nah, dawg, is all good."

Anyway, Tom hung in there like a hair in a biscuit, demanding justice from the Justice Department for this scandal, the J6 scandal, and the Russia hoax scandal.  Funny, because his efforts for at least two of these scandals were in defense of his antagonist, who rewarded Massie's efforts by fishing an obscure minnow from somewhere, plucking $32 million out of his wallet and stuffing it in Gallrein's shirt pocket.

"Now go get him."

"Who?

"Massie.  The curly headed one.  Over there, standing next to the statue of Jefferson."

"But what do I say?"

"Doesn't matter.  Just go.  We'll do all the legwork.  Stay in your basement.  I'll get Susie Wiles to tell you when to come out."

"B-b-ut, I..."

Cue Lee Greenwood singing God Bless the USA.

Anyway, we all know what happened.  No more than a year ago, Donald Trump was conquered by the faithful neocon contingent, these Beltway denizens who arrive with lofty ambitions, all their goals achievable with the American military.  This war-loving, war products-investing lot constitutes the very swamp the president vowed - repeatedly - to drain.   Instead of drainage, we got capitulation, and Trump now bows at the feet of the Lindsey Grahams, Mike Pompeos, Ted Cruz', et al of the world.

Oh, and John Bolton.  And oddly enough, Liz Cheney.

And Seb Gorka, who's right down the hall in the west wing.

And of course, Benjamin Netanyahu.

It was at some point, no more than a year ago that the president began to cast off his vows and rhetoric, and began to study war.  Big war, serious war, while playing golf regularly with Lady Lindsey "The Lush" Graham, a former rival he once demonized mercilessly.  Now, Gay Boy from the Palmetto State is front and center - to help the man who once decried the American penchant for war - formulate the kudzu-like growth of American military operations all over Timbuktu, Constitution be damned.

And debt be damned, while we're at it.   

And now we're seeing the predictable economic consequences of the Trump Folly, with raging inflation, the one true, reliable indicator that whoever's in power when the grocery carts are only about half full, ain't gonna be next January.

Enter now a hearty lot of young fellers who remain faithful to der Leader. These robust he-men support their man, no matter what he does, no matter what he says.  And if Trump says we should (do the bidding of another nation, and) go to war, then by God, that's what we're gonna do.

Orthodox Christians they be, undoubtedly good and faithful ones at that.  More than that, however, they've latched on to the idea of government by monarchy, the hierarchical model given us by our Creator.  Since they hold to this idea, they evidently see Mr. Trump as King Donald 1, and this crowning gives His, uh, Majesty, carte blanche to say, and do, whatever the hell he wishes.  Because as American sovereign, he gets a free pass.  He's our king, and ye peasants shall bow the knee while he whizzes all over us, and that aforementioned Document he swore (kinda) to obey.

This blind devotion to Trump forgives all sins.  This is why when you point out the numerous flaws of Trump World, these non-Boomers get as deaf as Ray Charles is blind, and their eyes glaze over, not comprehending what it is a critic is saying.  Instead, they rebuff their critics with phrases such as "retard right."

Oh, and they use words like "troon" a lot.

Yeah.  I had to look it up.  Turns out troon  is a derogatory internet slang term used against transgender people, especially trans women. 

I've been accused of trooning.  Hell, maybe I'm not the retard here.

Well, better to be retard right than a cucktard for the Man They Wish Were King.

Hey look, I'm actually cool with monarchy.  Great idea.  But what's lost on these frothing lads is that uh...

The United States is not a monarchy.

Got that, Dweezil?

Never has been, never will be, for better or worse.  What we have is what we have and in the legal sense, our Ruler is the Constitution.  Odd thing is, many of those in Testosterodoxy are ex-military, and as such, shortly before (or after, I dunno) they got their heads shaved, they threw up their right hand and took an oath to defend a Document.   Not a sovereign.  A Document.

An oath.  You know.  A vow.  A promise.  Your word.

Practically, this means if the man who you wish would be king violates the Document, your allegiance is bound to the latter.

Hey dog.  You promised.  I didn't make you do that.

To be clear, I'm no fan of the Constitution and as such, I never made such a vow.  But the obvious hypocrisy of these Trump sycophants, these cucktards (heh, that's fun) should be highlighted.  If you took a vow to defend a Document - and not a man; if your allegiance is to the Document, and your would-be king does something in obvious violation of same, well then.....we've got quite the pickle, Dick.

Well unless of course, the oath taker was actually serious about it.  And one would assume that if this shoe fits one that is also a Christian (of any stripe, much less Orthodox), keeping a vow would be sorta, ya know, fundamental stuff.

But again, because of the testosterodoxy, might makes right.  Vows don't matter, laws don't matter, rules don't matter, right and wrong doesn't matter.  We're all just doing the faithful bidding of King Don.  And since King Don was unhappy with T. Massie, off with his head.  And anybody who launches a defense of Massie is at least a "purist," who is trooning (I guess) over such mamby pamby trivialities as right and wrong.

Hey, what about all those victims of Epstein Island?

"Shut up, purist."

"Wow, look at all that Israeli money in Ed's pocket."

"If I have to stop licking the King's boots to answer the retard right one more time, man, I'm gonna lose it."

In fact, the only time right and wrong matter to these sycophants is when it's anyone who isn't a dutiful ward of Trump who may have done or said something unethical, or criminal or questionable.  THEN they get their ire up.

These dutiful foot soldiers of the President-They-Wish-Were-King are somehow convinced we are on the cusp of America's golden age.  Well.

Well, well, well.

That's gonna be a tall order since there's a GOP massacre on the horizon this November, which juuuuuuust might delay the golden age by a minute or two.  Oh and let's not forget we're almost 40 trill in debt, another point the TDoxers laugh off with silly theories, economic Einsteins they be.

I got a theory, too.  The shit really is gonna hit the fan one day, and your Golden Age is about as real as Dorothy's Oz.

Anyway, these political doofi will learn the hard way, in time, certainly not because of anything I pen. And certainly not because of anything any woman - woman! would say. Them dames need to keep their mouths shut as they cook supper.

Anyway, Oz ain't real, and neither is monarchy in the western hemisphere.  The closest we get to this pipe dream is when a president acts like a king, and the TDoxers get all giddy, leaving their moral compass and oaths in the dust. The same dust they shake from their sandals at the purists who have the gall to throw a light on the hypocrisy of it all.

Right and wrong does indeed matter, dammit.  And any Orthodox Christian, above all, should not have to be reminded of this.

'

Could Bernie Sanders Save America From Nuclear War?

 

Most every living American has been equipped with a natural distaste either for the now deceased Soviet Union, or today's Russia. Many baby boomers recall crouching under school desks in bomb drills. The threat of a nuclear exchange between the two super powers was indeed a reality. Since Bolshevik Revolution and the grotesque assassinations of the last Godly Tsar, Nicholas II along with his wife and children in 1918, the once mighty Christian land of Rus decayed under the deadly and immoral rot of Godless communism.

While now predictably post-Christian, albeit the Protestant strain, America rightly recoiled at our natural enemy. The recollection of Khrushchev's “We Will Bury You” speech at the United Nations fueled the sentiment of the Soviet bear being the personification of evil.

And it was. Beginning with Josef Stalin, one atheist dictator after another did his best to exterminate all vestiges of the former Russia as being the Christian land it once was. The carnage of Christian martyrs who fell under the Soviet sword (or gun, or starvation) far exceeded amateurs such as Hitler. Most of them remain unknown to anyone, save for our Creator.

To his credit, Ronald Reagan identified communism as the threat, and proceeded to bankrupt the bankrupt ideology. His successor witnessed the symbolic collapse of the Berlin wall Reagan had ordered torn down. Inside the red borders began the rebirth of the once great Christian land. The Soviet Union was dead, gone out of business without anybody firing a shot.

Unfortunately, what did not die alongside was the lingering notion among America that Russia was surely just another incarnation of the Soviet Union. In this present day, even “conservative” talkers like the clueless Dan Bongino still refer to Russia as a communist land, utterly unaware of the transformations that have taken place under an actual Christian president (Imagine that!)

America has morphed, rather obviously into a god-less nation and this was predictable, for the natural end of Protestantism in its myriad of forms is atheism. This is because the essence of Protestantism is rational, analytical and on its Pentecostal and Charismatic fringes, emotional. Included in the evangelical wing is faulty eschatological view of Russia as the evil red bear, destined to make war with the (actually) God-less state of Israel.

It's all so terribly shallow, but its adherents are devoted to a deadly view. This is because in the current state of world affairs, the blossoming land of Russia and its Christian roots may offer the best hope for mankind. Inside its borders, the Gospel (the actual Gospel) now flourishes, unhinged and unabated. Indeed, it is ironically America that is the potential mission field for actual Christianity, something we don't have a whole lot of these dark days.

Enter now a robust gaggle of neocons who extend into both American political parties. Convinced Russia remains evil, they seek to either bring Ukraine, once a part of Russia, into NATO, or send American troops and equipment to the renegade nation, to unbelievably assist in a potential war with the nation led by a clear-eyed, mentally sound and determined president, who does not enter into a dialogue assisted by a team of sycophants who place a script in front of him, so he'll know what to say. And were his fingers ever to hover over The Big Red Button, they would not be all trembly from dementia.

Odd that our leaders cannot be bothered with the goings-on at the Rio Grande. But the Ukrainian border? Well now buddy, just you back off or we'll....we'll, do something.

That something includes a first-strike nuclear option, fomented by our Joint Chiefs of Staff and muttering such possibilities into the vaccinated ears of the mentally compromised president. The notion Joe Biden could – could – initiate a nuclear exchange with Vladmir Putin should chill every American to the core. Instead, the Bonginos, Ernsts, Wickers, Grahams and Kennedys of the world evidently salivate over the idea of finally getting it on with the Bear.

Except now, the Bear is a Christian.

And America ain't, Dan.

Few bother to ask why in the world should we care about a Russia-Ukraine conflict, and that is the question. What it isn't is any of our business. Neither country represents a threat to the United States and if there were ever a time America needed to tend to her own biscuits, this is it.

I mean, really. What do you believe Putin would do at the southern American border, were he our president?

Alas, this is America, and war is our racket. We've abandoned Afghanistan and the rocket's red glare has barely worn off after what – four, five months – before we start looking around for the next war. But Russia is not Afghanistan, or Kuwait, or Libya, or Iraq. Any initiation of conflict by the United States would surely be met with a force none of us has ever seen.

Well, what of crazy Bernie? Has he weighed in on the situation? Being more comfortable with the glories(!) of communism, Bernie may well relish the opportunity to vanquish a largely Christian land.

And make no mistake. Ultimately, that is what this is all about.

It's thread-clinging, I know. But historically, old hippies were always anti-war. Any war. This would be prime time for the old commie hippie to rise, shine and embrace his 60's era roots. He could take his president and his party(s) to task and howl loudly about how we must back off and get back to other matters, such as universal basic incomes, open borders and government health care for all.

It could be a historic moment for the senator from Vermont. Will Bernie save America? Maybe he actually could. Of course, he won't.

But he could.

Lord have mercy on us all.

+++

Thankful, Again

 

Annually, at least, I pause to count my blessings. My stream of consciousness list always falls short, but that's alright. I can at least put a dent in it.

I'm thankful for solo stoves. They're terrific, and found on Amazon. Best campfire ever.

I'm thankful my college footballin' Bulldogs may finally get er done. They're on point this here season.

I'm thankful I got a few years of visits with Mama Lilah, my paternal grandmother. If only they could have cloned her a few million times. I can still hear her cackling, accompanied by twinkling, loving eyes.

I'm thankful for wood. And chain saws. And BC powders.

I'm thankful Kyle Rittenhouse is sleeping in his own bed.

I'm thankful for my kids, all grown and on their way to deliver grandkids to see me.

I'm thankful for readers of books I write. May the number grow exponentially.

I'm thankful for the scent of cedar.

I'm thankful the copperhead wounded me, but didn't kill me.

I'm thankful for my wife. Pretty much required to say that, but I'd say it anyway.

I'm thankful for Sam, the cat in Sri Lanka who works for me. That he speaks English better than I do is helpful.

I'm thankful for dentistry. And plumbing. And HVAC systems.

I'm thankful for delete buttons.

I'm thankful for toboggans. Or ski masks. Or whatever you call them.

I'm thankful for ham, my preference over turkey this year, for some reason.

I'm thankful for Timberlands. Best ever.

I'm thankful we're out of Afghanistan, and that I'm not there now. Hard period there. Onward.

I'm thankful for the 1939 Alistair Slim version of “A Christmas Carol.” Subsequent efforts pale.

I'm thankful for Berkey water filters.

I'm thankful for quilts.

I'm thankful for bluegrass music.

I'm thankful for hair, but less thankful every day. Or more, depending on your perspective.

I'm thankful, although I am somewhat loathe to admit it, for closed captioning.

I'm thankful the changing color of the leaves, and that I don't have to rake them.

I'm thankful for old black and white movies, especially if Bogie's in it.

I'm thankful for the dude at the eye doctor's office who cheerfully repairs my glasses every time I sit on them. He just smiles and hold out his hand before I can say anything.

I'm thankful Johnny found June.

I'm thankful shag carpet went the way of the dinosaurs.

I'm thankful I never got sideways with Karl Childers.

I'm thankful for tax write-offs. And good CPA's, who keep the dragon at bay.

I'm thankful I discovered the late great Shelby Foote.

I'm thankful we can still cross state lines. Can't we?

I'm thankful when the warm front chases out the cold.

I'm thankful when I can drive it over 250 yards, straight and true down the fairway. Rare, though.

I'm thankful when the store has a bench.

I'm thankful I got to watch Hank hammer #715. Barry Who?

I'm thankful I don't have to fiddle with the giblets today. Always a conundrum.

I'm thankful Robert Duvall is still kicking pigs.

I'm thankful for Mr. Borden, my elementary school principal. He scouted the halls with a paddle in one hand, and a cigar in his mouth. Good times, friends, good times.

I'm thankful for Van Morrison and Eric Clapton, whose guts exceed their musical prowess.

I'm thankful for tea. But more for coffee, and lots of it.

I'm thankful for Jacques Pepin.

I'm thankful Fidel is gone, finally.

I'm thankful for calculators.

I'm thankful for sea foam, my favorite color. Ah, the beach, the beach.

I'm thankful I can get a ten minute oil change. Well okay. I'm thankful for a half hour oil change?

I'm thankful my car's warranty has not expired, and that the IRS does not have a warrant for my arrest, though people keep calling and telling me otherwise.

I'm thankful for salt. And pepper. Freshly cracked, if you don't mind.

I'm thankful the dinner bell just rang. And I'm thankful you read this.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Rush Limbaugh, R.I.P.

I first heard Rush Limbaugh in 1989, not long after the national debut of his program.  The charm and magic of the experience was in hearing beliefs I then held richly enunciated by the golden voice preaching into the golden microphone.

As my own political philosophies evolved far from the neo-conservatism Limbaugh embraced until his death, his show ultimately became a source of perpetual exasperation.  But that's a point for another time. This isn't about me.

Rush claimed "talent on loan from God" likely in jest, but perhaps with a wink.  For that is indeed what he had, and never was a voice more fashioned for Marconi's invention.  If Paul Harvey was to radio what Frank Sinatra was to popular music, Rush was Elvis.

Without question, Rush loved his country, and considered America to be the gold standard among the world's nations.  As much as he loved an America which no longer exists, he reviled those he blamed for its ruin, those pesky and misguided liberals who were mocked, parodied, lampooned and exposed as the hypocrites they are, for three hours a day.

And deservedly so.

Americans who play by the rules, work jobs, pay taxes and raise families are generally a tolerant, charitable and well-mannered lot.  They mind and take care of their own business.  But such Americans have targets on their backs anymore, as those who would assault and pervert what they hold dear bully their way down Main Street, ripping away at whatever is left of the nation's moral fabric.

Every neighborhood with a bully needs a hero who will stand up and push back.  No prominent conservative had ever dared mock liberal false idols, exposing the sacred cows as empty suits.  Rush barreled through the facades like a bull, one by one, and millions were liberated, laughing as he parodied the uh-Rev-er-end Jack-sonnnn, or Calypso Louie, Ruth "Buzzi" Ginsburg, Crazy Bernie, Maude Behar, Slick Willie, and on, and on, and on.

And who can forget the assorted "updates" which mocked hallowed Democrat tenets of faith, such as the environmental wacko update?  As the sound of a chain saw felling trees blared in the background, Rush pulled the rug out from under such liberal scams as man-made global warming, the evils of the internal combustion engine, or the end of the world as predicted by algore.  (His deadline for annihilation came and passed years ago.)

Rush believed in the fantasy of political salvation, finding his philosophical home in the Republican Party.  The sad reality, however, was GOP power brokers held Limbaugh and his loyal followers in contempt.  Of course, Rush knew this but politically, there was no viable alternative, at least in his mind.  So, he rallied his troops to vote for Bushes, Dole, McCain and Romney, even though no one in this sorry lot had any affection for Limbaugh and his "Ditto-Heads."

Then came Trump.  Conservatism be damned, Rush latched onto the populist candidate like a pit bull on a ham bone.  For all of his unstated faults, Trump wasn't her, the woman whose name I will not print, so as to not soil this meager obituary for Millie's son.  

What Trump did have going for him was his America-first mantra, his unapologetic, vocal support for traditional American icons:  the flag, the military, law and order.  Oh, and border security.  And Christmas.

All this resonated big-ly with Rush.  There was no space available on his show to discuss unhinged government spending, which dwarfed that of Trump's predecessor.  We were in desperation mode now, the last round of the fight to save America, and as far as Rush was concerned, Trump was our only hope.

All politics aside, Rush seemed to me a very decent fellow, his mid-western values firmly ensconced by a set of solid parents.  He was a man of enormous wealth, yet incredibly charitable.  He had a love for big houses, fancy cars, Gulfstreams, golf and cigars.  

Sounds like the perfect next-door neighbor.

Rush sold many products, the greatest of them being a daily dose of hope, consumed by millions of listeners who are now left with no equal to him. No one else had the natural gift for giving voice to what his devotees believe.  As with Presley, Rush was a phenomenon, a stand-alone wonder for which there is no sequel.  We will never see, or hear, the likes of him again.

There was life before Rush came on the scene, and life will continue.  There will be a smattering of talk show hosts attempting to replicate him, but none will succeed.  

America will continue in some form, as will life.  But it will be a little duller, at least for three hours a day, five days a week.

It was a helluva ride, Rush.  I'm glad my ears found you.  

The Fauci Effect

 

Donald Trump is soon to leave office, albeit in a predictable cloud of controversy.  Some of his own making, much of it a fog of smoke from fires set by lovers of the establishment, that Godless amalgamation of evildoers who don't cotton to populist incursions.

In short, Trump was an anomaly, a candidate the deep state, specifically the Council of Foreign Relations, failed to take seriously in 2016.  By the time they realized he was a legitimate threat, he was packing stadiums from coast to coast with basket-fulls of those dreaded, yet lovable Deplorables.

Unknown to most Americans, the CFR vets presidential candidates, which is why, with rare exception, the last two standing are about as different as a bowlful of peas and carrots.  Or carrots and peas, if you prefer.  A prime example would be the 2004 election, which pitted CFR candidate A against CFR candidate B, both good and faithful Skull and Bones men.  Here is a club which inducts fifteen men per year.  What are the odds two members, George W. Bush and John Kerry, wind up as the two finalists in the presidential beauty contest?  Just one of those things, one of those crazy things.

(For more on this, see Antony Sutton's America's Secret Establishment:  An Introduction to the Order of Skull and Bones)

Trump was likely well-intentioned when he assumed office, and despite four years of unceasing mad, unhinged opposition, he survived, even with notable accomplishments.  He made worthy judicial appointments, and kept the nation out of a major shooting war.  But watching him throw barbs toward his enemies was worth the price of admission.

The establishment seethed, and stopped at nothing to see him defeated.  Many Americans could not overcome the insult of the behavior which is commonplace in Queens, and joined their voices in the cacophony of outrage, preferring a doddering old D.C. stalwart to Bad Orange Man.

Now we'll be back to business as usual, only on crack.

Make no mistake, what happened to Trump is the same thing that happened to JFK, only without bloodshed.  This generation of Americans just got bitch-slapped by the establishment in grand fashion.  The message is clear:  this will not happen again.  We select the presidents, not you.

(But what of Reagan? you ask.  Reagan slipped by as well, but became acceptable when he selected a CIA man as his Veep.  For eight years, Reagan was a figurehead.  It was a Bush White House, with Bush senior advisor Howard Baker serving as the Gipper's Chief of Staff.  Baker filled the administration with Bush loyalists.  Reagan turned out to be a big government guy as well.  Conservative in rhetoric only.)

Early prediction for '24:  President Harris versus oh, I dunno.  Who's a younger version of Mitt Romney?

Anyway, even with The Don in The Oval, not much really changed.  As he exits, government has grown larger, as it did with Reagan.  The unfathomable federal debt stands at 27 trillion, up from Obama's 17.

Why is this?  It's The Fauci Effect.

On the advice of Anthony Fauci, states began killing their economies, while Trump stood to the side, having yielded his bully pulpit to the statist mask-wearing - oops, not mask-wearing, munchkin whose directives did anything but "promote the general welfare."  Every time the lil' bureaucrat opened his mouth, a torpedo was launched into the hull of the sinking Re-Elect Trump ship.

 Somewhat ironically, Fauci assumed his office on November 2, 1984, assimilating into the establishment under the watch of Ronald Reagan.  He's been there ever since, and will be waving goodbye when Trump flies away on Marine One for the last ride.

He is indicative of the real problem in America:  this scourge of unelected bureaucrats, administrative lifers whose careers outlast that of presidents.  Bureaucrats set policy, administrate it, enforce it, and taxpayers have little recourse to resist.  No matter who takes the oath of office, the rats remain on the ship.  Be it a Reagan, Bush, Clinton, Obama or Trump, they remain, going to office parties, sipping cocktails, and smirking if anybody ever makes mention of those smelly Wal Mart people.  All that happens in House and Senate chambers is a shuffling of cups, a rearranging of deck chairs on the Titanic.

Here's the dream scenario:  A presidential candidate who actually knows what's going on magically slips by the CFR vetting process, and announces:  "The day after I am elected, I will send a letter to all federal department heads, asking for their resignations.  We will then begin a review of whether these positions warrant being filled, or eliminated."

Sends a tingle up my leg just typing that.  Actually, it's not an original idea.  Evangelical lunatic Pat Robertson uttered these words when he ran against Bush The First in 1988.  After I heard him say it, I became a volunteer in his campaign.

Prior to becoming #45, Donald Trump excelled at firing people, even famously.  Save for the evil James Comey, and the incompetent Jeff Sessions, he cooled his jets on terminations.  He shouldn't have.

Of course, Trump was never a conservative.  He's always been a big government man, but one who refused to bend his knee to the D.C. Club.  He wasn't one of them.  That's why they hated him.  He could not be controlled, so, he had to be eliminated.

Trump got his four years.  A government full of Faucis saw him come, and will now watch him go.  They'll be there long enough to see Harris succeed Biden, and they'll be there whenever she leaves.  Eventually, they'll retire, fully vested with  handsome and generous taxpayer-funded government pensions.

Presidents come, presidents go.  The Fauci Effect never changes.

At least, until The Great Default.

 

It's Over, And Trump Knows It

Despite the denial of millions of Trump voters, who in all likelihood far outnumbered millions of Biden voters, the president's term will end on January 20, and Joe Biden will be sworn in.

Nobody in America relishes this fact any less than me, but that's the truth.  Trump knows this.  How do we know Trump knows this?  Because he has begun issuing pardons, which all presidents do prior to leaving office.

His defeat has been rubber-stamped by court after court, including the Supremes, and his three appointees.  In short, the apolitical D.C. establishment doesn't want Trump inside the Beltway, and after Biden's inauguration, he won't be.

But what of the remaining cases?  What about all these apparent Trump-friendly attorneys, who fight on, vowing their will indeed be a last-minute reversal of the election?  One word:  money.

Take Lin "Don't Vote!" Wood, the Atlanta-based lawyer who has been on the case, barking into microphones, offering slivers of hope to Trump voters.  Wood, a lifelong Democrat and Obama supporter, knows how the game is played.  As long as this debacle drags out, he makes bank.

A gaggle of attorneys are getting while the getting is good, and to sustain the charade, they offer red meat to Trump voters, who remain convinced a miracle is imminent.  The Deep State is going down, and Trump will stand tall, blowing away the smoke from both barrels.  

This is the stuff of fantasy.

People are outraged because the Democrats cheated.  There is no doubt of this.  But this isn't news.  Democrats always cheat.  Anyway, the DC establishment cheats.  Ask Ron Paul.  Ask Pat Buchanan.  Trump should have seen this coming.  He should have been proactive.  The Democrats recognized early that the GOP establishment wasn't going to do anything to keep them from stealing the election, and they took advantage of the golden opportunity.

Trump is sitting on another golden opportunity here, the chance to politically mobilize his millions of bloodthirsty supporters, who want revenge.  They want leadership and direction.  They want to know what to do to get him back into office in four years.  But Trump has given no indication he's interested in this, which causes one to wonder whether he actually wants to be president.  

If Trump want to cash in on this opportunity, he should sit at his desk, and make this speech:

To the millions of America who supported me in November:  the election was stolen by the Democrats.  The recounts in battleground states were rigged by the Democrats.  Republican monitors were blocked from this process.  The lying media have covered up this fact.

The outcome of this year's presidential election is illegitimate.  Joe Biden's presidency is illegitimate.  It was stolen.

Now is the time for you to join me in restoring honest democracy to our country.  If you are a Republican, you must become politically active.  You must fight with me to take back the GOP.   You must work at the local level.  You must attend precinct meetings. You must become a skilled and active party member.

I am staying in this fight.  I have set up a GOP training organization.  We are going to capture the Republican Party from the ground up.  This will take a lot of work, and a major commitment.  Are you ready to commit?

Today, I am announcing my candidacy for the Republican nomination in 2024.    If you get active in the Party locally, together, we will work to make this happen.

If you join with me, I will win the nomination, just as I did in 2016. Then I am going to defeat President Harris.

With your help, from now on, Republicans at the grass roots will monitor the polls, day and night.  Especially night.  It is time to stop the political theft of our government.

I will be posting details of our mobilization on my website.

We lost this round to the thieves.  We will not lose the next round.

Together, we have begun to make America great again. Join with me to complete the task.

Will Trump do anything like this?  Not likely.  He will probably be more content to return to his life, and make hay for TV cameras.  But he is in prime position to administrate the greatest political movement of our lifetimes.  

It will be business as usual in Washington after January 20.

 

Civil War, Secession And Other Delusional Fantasies

 I've been called a cynic, because I reject the silly notion that some sort of right-wing storm is brewing, and Donald Trump is on the verge of pulling a rabbit out of a hat, thus sending Joe Biden-san and Kammy "Throw them black boys in prison for 20 to life!" Harris into oblivion.

Well, yeah.  A cynic I am.  Much like I would be were one to tell me JFK was actually the victim of a sole assassin.  Cynicism ain't a character flaw.  A cynic looks at the available facts, draws obvious conclusions, then naturally poo-poohs fanciful ideas about the aforementioned TrumpStorm.

Undoubtedly, the clueless president-to-be is the beneficiary of a stolen election.  What we know, however, and what we can prove, are two different things.  Even with a briefcase laden with proof, not much can be done if arguments are heard by Never-Trump judges.

In short, Biden will be inaugurated January 20th.  That's the view of a cynic.  It's also the truth.  

Those who insist on clinging to the fleeting notion of Trump prevailing are starry-eyed, myopic Pollyannas who just cannot bring themselves to acknowledge the United States is governed by an incestuous gaggle of statists, for whom remaining in power is the be all, end all.  As George Carlin famously said, "It's a big club, and you ain't in it."  

Trump, for all his obvious devotion to government largess (which should gain him lifetime admittance to said Club), is not a member.  He truly was an outsider, a populist who did not do what virtually all presidential beauty contest contestants must do:  get vetted by the Council of Foreign Relations.

So, Trump has to go, and you can be sure, what happened in 2016, will not happen again.

This is a bitter pill to swallow for those who actually believe they have a say in how the government is run, and who gets to run it.  So in frustration, they ultimately turn to an assortment of conspiracy theories.  Perhaps it's Steve Bannon, who has vowed since election  night Trump will be sworn in again.  Or maybe it's Steve Pieczenik, who told us the ballots bore watermarks, for added security, and that in a matter of days, the true vote count would be revealed.

Pieczenik has gone radio silent on this bogus claim, likely regretting the loss of any credibility he ever enjoyed.

Or, maybe it's a mysterious poster on the dark web (whatever that is), who uses initials for his username, like X-22, or 007, or 0U812.   The mystery man assures us, and he has it on good authority, The Swamp is about to be magically drained, and Trump will be standing tall with his hand on the Bible January 20.

No, really.  X-22 said so.  How can you doubt it? Just you wait and see!

Blah, blah, blah.

Ultimately, all the conspiracies flame out, and the true believer is left with little to grasp on to.  This threatens to morph into despair, but it's far better, if only for one's mental health, to acknowledge the truth, as stated above.  There is no political salvation, certainly not in America.  The frat rats run the ship of state, and anyone who believes voting is going to change that fact just isn't paying attention.  And if the debacle of November 3 isn't enough proof, then not much else can be said.

When the dejected souls sense the end of the fantasy is near, they may turn to more grandiose theories, such as civil war, or secession.  Some latch onto such ideas, without giving much thought to the merits.

Perhaps we should.

Civil wars are fought by farmers.  They are not fought by urban residents.  This is so obvious that it is utterly astounding that anyone could consider the possibility of an American urban civil war.

The military today has extraordinary communication systems.  They have armored personnel carriers.  They can control city streets without much trouble.

We are not a decentralized society any longer.  The vast majority of our people live lives in cities.  They are docile.  They are easily controlled.  They do what they're told.  They are not yeoman farmers.  They move to a new house every five years, so they have no emotional commitment to a piece of land as representing their families.  

There are no town meetings any longer.  They don't know their neighbors. That was not true in 1776.  It was not true in 1861.  If you don't know your neighbors, you don't trust your neighbors.  The best you can expect from your neighbors is to be let alone.  The enemy is the homeowner's association.  It runs the show.  Homeowners submit.  They submit begrudgingly, but they submit.

The thought that anyone who submits to a HOA is going to fight a war against local police, the National Guard, and SWAT teams is utterly preposterous.  It is astounding anyone actually believes this.

Another vain theory is that of secession.  The idea begs a lot of questions.  First of all, secede from what?  From where?  Republicans, Democrats, and an assortment of political independents are found in all fifty states.  How shall we separate them?  To where will we secede?

One politician proposed those states loyal to the Constitution would form a new Republic of sorts.  Okay, fine.  Then comes the endless questions of what is, and what is not Constitutional.  Sound familiar?

How about a new America, with Trump as president.  What would this mean?  It would mean a president who spends more wildly than any Democrat ever has, a president who supports government-mandated health care, a president who has proven to be a proponent of massive, unrestrained government.

How is this any different?

Most Trump voters are fine with America being what it is:  a welfare state.  Trump was never going to change this.  Had he tried, Biden would have swamped him without any shenanigans.  Most Trump voters are fine with public education.  Public schools are the national religion of the USA.  This should not be the case, but Trump was never going to change this.

We're really going to secede, or start a civil war, standing arm to arm with those Trump voters who support such things?

It's time to exit Fantasyland, and cash the reality check.  Like it or not, Joe Biden is going to be president, fit-throwing and name-calling notwithstanding.  

It sounds hopeless, because it is hopeless.  Political salvation in the United States is utterly hopeless.

Our energies are best spent making the best with what is left.