A Nation of Many Parties: Saturday Political Soap Box 267

 

We are a nation of many parties.

And no, I'm not talking about stuff like Super Bowl parties or Valentine's gatherings, all of which SHOULD DEFINITELY NOT BE HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!

No, I'm talking about how we are a nation of multiple parties forced to work through a duopoly controlled primarily through large donors.

If you read other political posts of mine, you will see I am an advocate for a multiple party format like they have in other successful democracies, that will better allow for coalitions and compromises to achieve legislation.

It's true that our electoral system is designed to favor a two-party system.  There would have to be reforms to allow a multiple party system to thrive.

Currently, there are at least four political parties in Congress, trying hard to behave as if there are two.  At different times, the struggles within one of the major parties are more apparent than the struggles in the other.  Right now, that is more apparent in the Republican Party.

Without further afroofroo, these are the four major political parties/divisions that I see that make up the 117th Congress. My numbers are based on the 117th, 435, with three vacant seats assigned as to how I think they will fall when their special elections are held.

Progressive Party

This is the party of bold new ideas, a transformative politics designed to move us into the future, addressing the major problems facing us - health care (Medicare For All or something as inclusive), the climate crisis (the Green New Deal or something as comprehensive), and economic inequality (a living wage, a fairer tax system, consumer protections, and more).  On the surface, they seem like big spenders, but in the past, I have seen them produce some of the best budget-balancing plans to come out of Congress.

Yes, this is my party.  Their greatest weakness is to sometimes wander into what is referred to as Cancel Culture or over political correctness.  That's more true of Progressive commentators and media than it is of our actual representatives.  I love the internet media giant TYT, but sometimes they are very narrow and exclusive as to who they consider a Progressive.  That kind of ideological purity is maddening.

Numbers in the House: 94.  This estimate is based on the number of members of the Congressional Progressive Caucus.

Examples of Progressives:  Bernie Sanders, Elizabeth Warren, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez

Democratic Party

This is the Democratic Party that went into retreat during the Reagan Era and has never fully come back out.  They believe in government, and they want to improve things, albeit at a much slower and measured pace than Progressives.  An example - Progressives would like a $15 minimum wage to happen NOW...Democrats may want it to be an extended step ladder over many years that gradually reaches $15 an hour...maybe...with some exceptions.

They are more beholden to big donors and therefore willing to compromise to needed legislation to meet their donor demands.  

It is important to note that they do believe in government.  They do believe in problem-solving.  They can get things done- if they get the numbers to do so.

Numbers in the House:  129.  

Examples of  Democrats:  Barack Obama, Joe Biden, Joe Manchin.

Patriot Party

Yeah, I'm using the description I think they will eventually call themselves.  More accurate would be the American Fascist Party, ergo - the Trump Rump (what an image that is - but it fits).  These are people devoted blindly to the cult of Trump. There's not a whole lot of policy goals to this - maybe build the wall, shore up conservative religion, keep the white culture in charge—a lot of what else is up to what dear leader thinks.  Trump's against the $2,000 covid stimulus checks?  Of course!  It's SOCIALISM!  Trump's for the $2,000 stimulus checks?  Of course!  It's our God-given RIGHT!

Numbers in the House:  85.  This is my wildest guess.  The Freedom Caucus 49?  The 61 who voted against Liz Cheney's leadership position?  The 138 scumbags who voted to decertify Pennsylvania's electoral votes even after an insurrection?  The fear of Trump is still strong in the Republican Party, so it's hard to get a clean number.  Ultimately, I just went with my best guess average.

Examples of Patriots: Donald Trump, Josh Hawley, Jim Jordan, Ted Cruz, Majorie Taylor Greene.

Republican Party

Once you remove the Trump fear factor, these are the people trying to harken back to more traditional Republican values (Reagen era) - low taxes, deregulation, conservative corporate-friendly judges, and wars for economic power reasons.  They ally with the Trumpers when convenient.  Okay, they have sold their soul to the Trumpers.  Bur even more important to them than the Trumpers are their corporate and wealthy donors, which they are more enthrall to than any other political party/division.

This used to be a popular philosophy. It's not now, which is one reason they have to ally themselves with the Trumpers.  Alone, they would win very few elections. I mean, really, is there anyone left on the planet who actually thinks that Trickle Down Economics works?

Numbers in the House: 127.  Again, this number is cloudy because they are all still hiding under the shadow of Trump.

Examples of Republicans: Mitt Romney, Mitch McConnell, Susan Effing Collins, Adam Kinzinger.

Are there other viable political parties in America?  Probably, and they might emerge under a true multi-party system.  The Green Party, Democratic Socialists, Reform Party, the Libertarian Party - these and others are all possibilities.

The most chatter I hear is about Libertarians.  There is chatter amongst some millennials that SAY they lean that way.  But it is confusing.  If you get 100 people in a room who say they are Libertarians, you'll get 100 very different, very distinct ideas about what a Libertarian is. Is it Justin Amash who stood up for the impeachment of Trump?  Is it the Pauls (Ron & Rand) whose idea of Libertarianism does not extend to women's reproductive rights?  I'm not ruling out the emergence of a more prominent Libertarian Party - I'm just not really sure what it would look like.

Whatever the makeup of the political parties, we should be able to agree on one thing -

If you threaten the life of other elected officials or any American for that matter, you should be expelled.

That should be a no-brainer.

History of the Trap Vol. 2 - Chapter Two: Dance Party Part 6

 

6

 

“What you doing down here by your lonesome, Marty Martian?”  Coming down the hall was Walter Drayton, his broad body taking up almost half the hallway. As he sauntered closer, I could see that Stevey Wentworth was hidden behind him on one side, and Donald Granite, Mark’s younger brother, on the other side. “Wet your pants, Soap Boy?  You come down to Home Ec to wash your soiled undies?”

This was not good.  I analyzed if  I could rush past them.  The odds were dim, but it didn’t matter.  I was frozen in place.  I couldn’t move.  I tried to speak, and nothing came out.

“Did you get the message from Mama Tigh?”  That’s what they called Morgan Tigh?  Mama Tigh?  I can’t see her being thrilled with that.  I guess if that’s what her killer boyfriend calls her, she just goes along with it.  “You shouldn’t be running to hide.  You should be going to your Daddy for confession od all the lies you told about Mark.”

“I…told…no lies,” I croaked out. 

Stevey guffawed.  “See, Walt D, I knew she couldn’t scare him.  I think it’s time for us to reinforce the message, using our extra special delivery system.” Stevey bunched his right fist up and smacked into his open left hand.

Donald stepped up, inches from my face.  “You need to back of my brother…NOW!”  He punched me in the gut.  I doubled over, barely able to stand.

My standing issue resolved a second later when Stevey unleashed an uppercut to my jaw.  I fell to the ground, the back of my hard-hitting the hard floor. 

The pain was tremendous, but I did not get the blessing of drifting to unconsciousness.  My damaged jaw's pain, my squalling gut, my broken crown, soon paled compared to the pain I know felt by being kicked in the side.  I didn’t even know which one was doing it.

The wide one, Walter, was kneeling over me.  “And now I'm gonna smash your face in.” I tried to lift my arms to guard my face, but my body was no longer responding to signals from my fogged brain.

But the blow never came.  His descending fist was held back by something. “You morons!”  That was Morgan’s voice.  It sounded far away, but it couldn’t have been if she was close enough to hold Walter back. “You’re just making things worse!”

Walter stood up.  “Your sweet talking meant nothing.  He needs to learn his lesson the hard way.”

Morgan was furious.  “I had this in hand.  And now you’ve left him bruised and maybe with bones broken, and how is all that going to be explained?  You’ve just increased the target on Mark, on all of you!  That’s all you’ve done!”

Stevey giggled.  “Maybe he ran into a door!  Or went through the Home Ec’s washer and dryer trying to clean up his pee smell!”  Stevey started laughing out of control until Morgan abruptly slapped him.

“Stop it!” she shouted.  “This is not how Mark would have wanted things done!”

“Isn’t it?” Walter said, smirking.  “I know you’re his lover Mama, but maybe we know him a little better, having hung out with him for years, and you are just this year’s squeeze.”

Morgan balled up her fists, taking a defiant stance.  “Like to test that out?  Want to see whose side he takes?”

That seemed to deflate their aggression. “Ok, Mama Tigh,” Walter said.  They started to leave, and then Walter turned and pointed at me.  “Later, Martian.  You should be grateful Mama showed up.  Next time you might not be so lucky!”

“WALTER!  GO NOW!”  Morgan stood firm, and the three left.  She looked at me, lying damaged on the floor. “You are an extra special kind of idiot, too, running off on your own just after I tried to warn you.”

“You…you can’t tell me what to do.” It was all I could do to speak, and it was more instinct than any rational expression.

“Yes, I can.  And I will,” said Morgan.  She took a step toward me and stared hard at me; her eyes lit up with a combination of anger and fear. “I told you there were things beyond my control.  Now, maybe you’ll take me seriously.”

She huffed off, leaving me broken on the floor.  This person, who was a student nurse, offered me no comfort or aid.  She just left me, bleeding and bruised.

Beyond her control?  What a lie.  What a terrible self-delusion. 

She was responsible.  She lit the match, and I wouldn't forgive her just because she couldn’t control the flame.

 

Updated: The Final Trump Premium: 288,285

Final Update

In September 2020, I started using MATH to answer how many COVID deaths can we really hold Trump responsible for?

The following takes you through the math and updates the numbers to TWO WEEKS after the inauguration of Joe Biden.  This allows for two weeks for the time it might take for deaths to occur in infections that began by Inauguration day.

This is what's published in the original Trump Premium post but with numbers updated through February 2nd:

 The incredibly damning Woodward tape made it irrefutable. To explain it as succinctly as I could, I created this meme/statement -

It's true.

He knew.

He lied.

People Died.

I soon discovered that I was on the right track.  At first, I saw it from my favorite writer, Stephen King.

He knew.

He lied.

447,715 died.

It proved very popular.  I began seeing King's version many places.  Hard to believe his version would take off, and mine wouldn't.  Maybe he has more followers.  I don't know.

But, really, is that fair?

Should we attribute what is, as of writing this, all 447,715* confirmed COVID-19 deaths to Donald Trump?

I mean, I am a major league Donald Trump despiser, but this is a global pandemic, after all.  Some deaths would occur here, no matter how top rate the leadership.

We need to look at what the Trump premium is.  What would be the best estimate at how many more deaths the United States experienced because of Trump's lack of leadership?

Let's start by conceding that it might be fair to assume that the US would have at least a share of the cases based on its proportion of the world's population.  Estimates vary on this, but I think a reasonable percentage would be 4.25%.  That's a little bit of rounding, but not much.

This is based on numbers provided by the Bing COVID-19 tracker.  Please keep in mind this is in constant flux, rising every hour.  As of 8 AM, the global total of confirmed COVID-19 deaths is -

2,243,638

We then look at that number and take out the number of US deaths to reconfigure what it would look like with a proportional number of US deaths based on US population -

2,243,638 - 447,715 = 1,795,923

Then we take that number, adjust it up to cover what it would be with 4.25% of COVID-19 deaths attributable to the US.

1,795,923 / 95.75% = 1,875,638

1,875,638 * 4.25% = 79,715

79,715**

Our population share of the global COVID-19 deaths would be 79,715.

But let's give Trump the benefit of the doubt.  Even under the right leadership, we are not the best-behaved country on Earth.  We can't have expected to react as well as South Korea, Taiwan, New Zealand, or even China.  We just have a bone-deep strain of rugged individualism (politically incorrectly version - selfish pricks -people who value their personal liberty over social responsibility).  So, let's say we behave WORSE than the rest of the world (well, except maybe Brazil), even with the leadership saying and doing the right things.  Let's say, I know this is horrible, but let's say we are TWICE as bad as the rest of the world.  So let's double the number we could expect under good leadership -

79,715 * 2 = 159,430

So, where does that leave us, comparing the number of COVID-19 deaths we have to the number that we might have had if someone like Trump*** wasn't President.

447,715 - 159,430 = 288,285

So, a more accurate version of what both Stephen and I are trying to say is -

It's true.

He knew.

He lied.

288,285 died.

There.  Doesn't that look better?  That's not so bad, is it?

Better? Even with a more accurate number, it is...

Mind-numbingly Horrifying

I will not let you forget this, Trumpeteers.  Over 74 million Americans were able to ignore this and vote for him anyway.  I'm shocked.  I know we live in a partisan era of divided media, but - my God, HOW COULD YOU?

For those itching for me to keep the same stat on Biden - I will.  I will not begin right away, but I will give him a chance to try to right this leaky ship as much as possible. Trump has left with no vaccination distribution plan in place, and our slow reaction has allowed several more highly infectious variants to emerge.

Therefore I am giving it a one month rest, a period to allow for a transition from Trump to Biden, and for that month, I will not accumulate a premium on either one.

I will begin the Biden Premium on March 2nd.  I do not expect it to be zero - we are in a real mess.  BUT...Biden does KNOW.  Biden will not LIE.  He'll tell it to us straight.

*that is the reported number on the Bing COVID-19 tracker at 8AM Wednesday, February 3rd.  Tragically, that number is still rising by a thousand or more every day.

**all numbers are rounded to the nearest whole number.

***just kidding.  There is no one like Trump.  I cannot imagine a worse leader to have at this time.  I always knew he was incompetent, narcissistic, and racist, but the Woodward tapes prove something in addition to that - he's evil.  No other way to put it.  Sorry. The truth hurts.

History of the Trap Vol. 2 - Chapter Two Dance Party: Part 5

 

5

 

I wanted to storm out.  I wanted to defy her.  But I didn’t.  It wasn’t because I wanted to dance with her.  It wasn’t the young toughs she brought with her as enforcement, including two of the Three Hoodlums, Robert Pelley’s thuggish pals, Stevey Tubbs and Walter Drayton.

It was my curiosity.  What was the point of her dancing with me?  It sure as heck wasn't any attraction (that came much later). She wanted to convey something, most likely threats, but if I was going to be prepared for what was to come, I needed to find out what I could.

“Let’s get this over with,” I said, and moved out to the dance floor. She followed me and waved to her goons to stay on the sidelines.  When Artie and Ginny saw her move towards me, they looked like they were going to intervene, and I waved them off.  Whatever was going to happen was just going to be Morgan and me.

We stared at each other, a momentary lull in the music. No, there was no love lost between us. For years, Morgan barely recognized my existence.  Now, it was clear I was foremost in her thoughts, but not in a good way. And I just saw her as an appendage to her psychopathic killer boyfriend, Mark Granite.

Robert Short came back to the DJ table and announced, “Ready to rock and sway, boys and girls? How about getting it down with Chicago and their megahit, Sunday at Grant Park?  It starts hard to get you rollin’ and’a reelin’, and then slows down for some up-close huggin’ and’a squeezin’!”

“I hate Chicago,” I said.  “It makes it the perfect song to dance to with you.”

“Feeling’s mutual, nut weasel,” Morgan replied.  Wow.  She must have a million derogatory names for me.

The music started up, and we gyrated in place, about a foot from each other.  She wasn’t too bad as a dancer, but I was truly legendary, but not in a good way.  She was smooth and coordinated, like the trained cheerleader and dancer she was.  I looked more like I was having a seizure and that one or more of my limbs might fall off at any second.

Whatever our style. We did not take our eyes off each other. No, there was no romance or sentiment in our stare. It was more like two wild animals trying to intimidate each other and look for a weak spot to begin to pounce.

Because I was focused on her, I barely noticed others around us stop dancing and circle us, staring. This was big stuff in Loren High’s trapped little world – the boyfriend of accused killer Mark Granite dancing with Mark’s most notorious accuser. The same instincts at play when they devotedly followed the soap I wrote, The Sands of Loren, was no causing them to hover around us.

I was beginning to wonder what the point of this was.  Just to glower at each other?  We didn’t need a dance to send the message that we didn’t like each other.  It seemed like wasting time on the obvious.

Then the music shifted gears and slowed down.  I’d had it and was going to walk away.  I didn’t want to have to come in physical contact with Morgan LaDona Tigh.

Before I could even move to leave the floor, she had her arms around me.  We began a slow spin.  I reluctantly placed my hands on her back, as lightly as I could, and still maintain dancing.

It didn’t matter to her.  She pulled in even closer, tightening her grip.  I instinctively closed mine around her.  Her face was only an inch away from mine.  Our heights were fairly similar.  We were almost on eye level with each other, Morgan having to look up just a fraction.

What would I do if she tried to kiss me?  I’m afraid I would not be able to stop myself.  No, not from kissing back, but from biting her lip. That would be bad for my social standing if I caused the most popular girl in school to bleed from the dance floor.

Bite her lip?  Heck, she might be coming to bite my lip!

But neither of those is what happened.  Instead, she squeezed closer, bringing her head to the side of mine.  I could feel her breath on my ear.  Oh, man, that would really hurt if she tried to bite my ear off.  I tried to flinch back, but she held me tight.

“Back off,” she whispered to me.  Back off?  How could I do that?  She had me in vise grip!  Then I realized she wasn’t talking about dance moves. “Recant.”

I turned my head so she could hear my quiet reply.  “Are you nuts?  I’m not backing off anything.  I saw what I saw!”

“You must be mistaken.  Mark is not like that.  You don’t know him as I do!”

“Yeah/ Well, you don’t know him as I do.”  We continued to turn slowly, keeping our conversation as low and as quiet as we could.  Others must have been amazed at our seeming intimacy.  “Besides, he’s already been convicted.  And I’m not the only witness.”

“You’re the one that matters.  You’re the one who says he saw the murder.  You’re the one your father will listen to.”

So that what it comes down to.  The old Principal’s son has special connections theory.

“Not gonna happen, Morgan.  Mark is where he belongs.”

I felt her hand encompass the back of my neck.  Her fingernails were starting to press into my flesh.  “I can make your life very difficult, Soap Boy.  I can influence people, get you off writing that soap opera.”

“Good!  I’m tired of writing it.”

“That’s just the start.  I can make you become a ghost, a pariah.  I can make things happen where you’ll be the one in trouble with the law, things so bad even your Daddy can’t help you.”

I laughed.  “Threatening a social outcast with being more of a social cast isn’t much of a threat.”

She shifted her head and now looked into my eyes, this time not with anger but pleading. It was the most unnerving move she made. Then she went back to whispering in my ear.  “Please.  You don’t understand.  Believe it or not, I’m the good cop.  There are forces at work that I can’t control.  Do you understand me?”

I understood perfectly.  She was suggesting that some of Mark’s other friends would become violent towards me. I pushed her far enough back that I could look her in the eye.  She almost looked sad, perhaps a little scared herself.  But I wasn’t buying it.  What an act!  If she wasn’t such a scumbag, she might’ve made a good actress for The Sands of Loren.

The song ended. I pushed her away, forcefully uncoupling us. It was our last physical contact for five years. Neither of us said a word.

Was there a tear in her eye?  I thought it couldn’t be so; maybe it was a trick of the light.  Years later, she told me it was a tear.  I don’t know.  Maybe so.  But at that time, I sure as heck didn’t believe it. Even if true, it had to be part of the act.

I pushed my way through the crowd that had gathered around us.  I ran out of the dance, down into a deserted corridor that held science and home economic classes.

I was alone, shaking, unsure as to whether to cry or scream.  I didn’t think about being isolated.  I didn’t think about being followed.

That was a mistake.

Random and Insidious

 It is random.

This disease, this plague, this virus, this pandemic, is random.  It is infecting millions, but the severity of cases seems random and capricious.  

Some who get it barely know they have it.  Some are sick for a few days, home with mild symptoms.  Some have the worst flu/cold/virus of their lives, tussling with it for a couple of weeks.  Some are hospitalized.  Some have symptoms that persist for months.  And some die.

The most vulnerable among us are most at risk.  But that is not universally true.  One of my church's youngest, most vibrant vestry members succumbs to the disease.   Just yesterday, a young father loses his life after a month of struggles, with his loving wife and family pulling out all the stops to save him, trying to make our stubborn, inert medical system respond to his needs.  Young children have died.

It is insidious.

This disease, this plague, this virus, this pandemic is insidious.  Many who get this can shrug it off and get fooled into thinking it's not that big of a deal.  But it's there.  And it is deadly.  And millions worldwide, including 425,000 plus Americans, have died.

Some people walk through the madness, unmasked, without a care for themselves or for others.  Maybe they have some special immunity I don't understand.  Maybe their case was so asymptomatic that they didn't know they had it.  

As horrible as this is, somehow it falls below the recognition that the nation is in crisis.  Maybe by now, they know somebody who has died.  But somehow, they dismiss it as an unfortunate aberration, or maybe it's not really a COVID death.  I'm sorry.  If you have a heart attack while you have COVID or are recovering, that's a COVID related death.  

Random and insidious.

With COVID variants coming, it may become more contagious.  It may affect children more.

We need to mask up, wash our hands, and socially distance.  This is not a game.  This not a matter of personal liberty.  This is life or death, and we need to take it seriously.

I mask.  I socially distance.  I need to do better at hand washing.  I don't do it often enough or long enough.  So there.  I admitted my imperfection.

I also screwed up getting the COVID vaccine.  I wanted to wait until some of the older, more at-risk people I knew were scheduled. 

Which means I didn't call until this morning.  Where I was told that scheduling vaccine appointments were currently "on pause."

My bad.  I am not perfect.

I will wait until availability is announced again.  I am more concerned about those around me than myself.  My son is at college, and although he is cautious, others around him are not.  Someone close to me works in an environment that is...somewhat lax in its approach to this crisis.

I worry.  And I wait.

My heart and soul are crushed by the pain and sorrow I see around me.  My mind and spirit are devastated by the lack of caring I see around me,

Random and insidious.

All my thoughts, love, and prayers to everyone, and that we can pull through this pandemic soon.

History of the Trap Vol. 2: Chapter 2- Dance Party Part 4

 

4

 

Was it worth going to? 

Socially, I’m not sure.  Discovery-wise, it was pretty illuminating.

My heart pounded.  My head thrummed with the vibrations of the music.  It reminded me of dancing with Lisa, and the vibratory hum I would get from holding her close.

We had fewer records to play, thanks in part to Robert Pelley’s collision with them, losing his temper at a dance last September, confronted by his boorish behavior towards Lisa, the last dance Lisa would ever attend. But our DJ, Bob Short, our smooth-voiced news announcer, the number one most trusted student at Loren High, just a-dripping with maturity and confidence. No, The Bob had two bands to rely on as well, Brassy Jazz and The Harlin Brothers (four guys none of whom were named Harlin, nor were any of them brothers).

But there were also records, one of which was playing when I noticed the hum.  It was a song that I had danced to with Lisa.  Sum of My Love by The Wall Nets. I don’t remember many of the words.  “You don’t have jut some of my love…you have the sum of my love.”  I know.  Pop music is strange.

While the Wall Nets played, I played being my new favorite, Wall Flower.  I stood near the side wall of the cafetorium.  If things got tough, I could look through the windows into the courtyard garden. Our agricultural had recently planted a couple of fruit trees, an apple tree and a pear tree. Usually, those were more of a Western Michigan thing, but they seemed to be thriving here, so, what the hey.  Again, we were grateful for Mr. Bruchow’s large inventory of seeds.  Mr. Bruchow had proven to be our most valuable and practical teacher.  Between my father’s Mr. Bruchow’s agricultural knowledge and the discovery of the Farm, our food palate was increasing in diversity every month.

I looked across the dance floor.  Ginny was dancing close with Artie.  They were affectionate, but not overtly mauling each other.  Artie had long resisted school dances, but Ginny had finally broken his resistance down. I won’t lie.  I still felt a twinge drawing me to her, but for the most part, I was happy to see them together.  There was so much heartache. It was good to see two people in love.

Looking past them, I saw Morgan near the opposite wall. My first reaction was surprise that she wasn’t dancing. I knew that her beau was now behind bars, but I thought she was the type that would still party. 

Then, as I brought her into focus, I could see the set of her face.  She was glowering, staring right at me, her eyes on fire.

Well, fine.  Be upset with me all you want.  It doesn’t change what your boyfriend did.

She could glower all she wanted.  I didn't have to look at it. I averted my gaze to Bob Short, who was getting ready to put on another song.  “Hey, Lookouts!  What say we step it up a notch?  Let’s go all out with Gina and the Giraffes, and their powerful ballad, I Want Out of Here? “

That was a good one, and a sentiment many in the Trap could identify with. I applauded, and then I felt a presence right in front of me. I turned and saw it was. I was so surprised, I took a half-step back, banging against the courtyard window.

“Dance with me, Soap Boy.”  It was Morgan, inches from my face, still looking fierce.

What was this about?  Why would she want to dance with me?  Whatever her motivation, it couldn’t be good.

“N-no!” I stuttered out.  “Are you out of your mind?  I’m not gonna dance with you!  I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”

She flashed a smile that was more terrifying than her glower. “Tough tiggers, Principal’s kid.  You don’t have a blanking choice,”  She didn’t say blanking,  That’s my substitute. 

 

 

 

Pre-Inauguration Wednesday Wanderings

O beautiful hat!  How I covet thee!

The time of the Orange One is drawing to a close.  Less than five hours as I write this.

Still, even with so little time left, I have fear over what he will do.  So much breaking of precedent, so much rudeness, so much nastiness, so much anti-democratic behavior.

As I write this, there is no sign yet that he will pardon his immediate family members or himself.  I think people close to him have convinced him that it might cause problems at his impeachment trial in the Senate. That doing so might make him look more guilty.

Then Laurence O'Donnell, the host of the MSNBC show The Last Word, mentioned that not all pardons are made public.  That there is such a thing as secret pardons that may stay secret until they are brought up by necessity.  So, Trump could survive the impeachment trial, get arrested for a Federal crime, then whip out his secret pardon and go, "Psych!" Wouldn't that be a kick in the nutty region!

It's been a tough four years.  I've lost a lot of sleep, experienced heaps of stress.  Much of it has been centered around that I live around so many people who have never wavered in their support of him.  It has caused me to be often confused, but mostly angry at how otherwise intelligent and caring people could be so blind.

Because it permeates so much. my blog has been more political than I intended.  Yes, I do post non-political things, but I think the political percentage has gone up over the last four years.  I can't help it.  Although the blog is not a single-purpose blog, it reflects who I am and what I am thinking about.

I can forgive those who supported Trump, especially if they join us in finding solutions to the many crises facing the country and the world.  You don't have to agree with my solutions, but you do have to engage.  You have to be willing to work together.  The problems are too great not to seek understanding and compromise.

I can forgive, but I cannot forget because, in the future, you could be driven to support another authoritarian fascist, maybe one that's even more dangerous by being more intelligent and crafty.  The threat to the Republic is not over, even if Trump is banished.  One horrible thing we know is true - The Empire Always Strikes Back.  We must remain vigilant.

I can forgive, but I must tell my Trumpeteer friends this -

You never should have supported him.  Not once.  Not for one second.  He was always a narcissistic monster.  He was always a racist and misogynist.  He was always a failed businessman.  He didn't deserve your support for dog catcher, much less President of the United States.

I have read hundreds of articles and many books trying to understand why you (Trump voters) did what you did.  

I don't care anymore.

Just don't ever do it again.