At least that was my impression — apologies to the King’s ghost — while catching Tuesday’s, um, performance. I also thought maybe a no-charm, not-funny Lenny Bruce — apologies to Bruce’s shade — turns out I wasn’t the only one.
What I mean is … he’s the, old, wizened … ok, fat (not that I”m one to talk, but …) anyway, the old Elvis…but…by worst ever, not even a metaphorical song or two, just a pathetic trip to the center of whatever counts as the Donald’s mind (so maybe more Ted Nugent?)…alternately preening, bragging, strutting and posturing…then whining, petulant, playing the victim. Wingnut cri du coeur (cri du Coors? Coors Light?).
His audience of true believers, of course, still believe…just like those who insisted Elvis wasn’t dead…and they’ll keep believing even as the mother of all farces devolves further into madness. Not much you can do about these people…for what it’s worth, my .0000002 cents is don’t bother. Instead, continue to out-vote them (don’t forget that we DID last November) while remembering they’re always lurking around, their hearts and minds as … as solid a black void as it seems when the moon covers the sun.
Speaking of … I was fortunate to spend Monday in Tennessee, on the grounds once owned by the Donald’s now-favorite former POTUS (I doubt he knew anything about Jackson until quite recently). Never saw the mansion itself. The public viewing was in what I guess was an outer field, and while waiting I did take some time to think about the people forced to to do exceptionally hard work in exchange for … being treated as sub-humans. Sobering … though the eclipse itself was quite something to see. To that end, and also because Adrastos was nice enough to send a celebratory message, here’s a shot: the first an actual photo — phone cameras, or maybe those of us using them, have limitations — the second a photoshopped version of what I recall seeing…
Very much worth the effort (after almost being stymied by a single cloud). Sure hope to see the next one in 2024 … Cheers.