We’re having typical early January weather thus far in 2019: gray, gloomy, foggy, damp, and chilly. Some days I’m not sure if we should run the AC or heater. The cats prefer heat but they don’t have a vote.
I’m still warding off the lingering effects of the Broccolini cold. It was a whopper and I’m not referring to the candy. I wonder if that qualifies as a Malteser, which is the brand name for malted milk balls in the U.K. I should probably do some form of penance for that joke but I’ll get on with the post instead.
I realize that it was a bit creepy that I included a Captain & Tennile album cover in my Gone To The Dogs post earlier the same day that Daryl Dragon died. If you think I have premonitive powers, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I barely have first sight, let alone second sight.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Boz Scaggs lately. Boz deserves the sort of revival that his fellow “blue-eyed soul” singer Daryl Hall has gotten. Hall & Oates never recorded an album as good as 1976’s Silk Degrees, after all.
This week’s theme song, What Can I Say, is the opening track of the aforementioned album. What can I say? I like it.
Now that I given you silk degrees in lieu of the second degree, let’s jump to the break.
Thursdays are usually uneventful but yesterday was a historic day. Nancy D’Allesandro Pelosi became the first person to regain the Speakership since Sam Rayburn in 1955. In some ways, Mister Sam and NDP are similar: Rayburn was a stern, loving, and forgiving patriarch to the Democratic caucus of his day. Substitute matriarch and that description fits Nancy Smash to a T.
I love watching swearing-in days on Capitol Hill and this one was particularly joyful as Speaker Pelosi invited the children of members to join her on the podium as she was sworn in. I wouldn’t be surprised if a few Republican kids joined in the scrum.
I’ve always been a Pelosi fan. She combines the best qualities of a reformer and a machine politician. She comes by the latter honestly: her father and brother were both Mayors of Baltimore. The Maryland delegation all referred to her as Nancy D’Allesandro Pelosi as did possible future Speaker Hakeen Jeffries who also called her NDP. I like it as it evokes another tough, wily, and brilliant broad, RBG. I plan to steal it now that I’ve given Rep, Jeffries credit.
I’m a sucker for roll calls and this one was a pip. One of my favorite moments was when Congressman Steve Cohen of Memphis cast his vote, “Make America Great Again: Nancy Pelosi.” Yeah you right, Steve.
The euphoria will soon fade but the House is in good hands. NDP might not be the best public speaker BUT she’s a brilliant inside player. Michael Steele was chairman of the RNC in 2010, and he’s admitted that they demonized Nancy Smash because she was so “damn effective.”
There was a brief moment in Nancy Pelosi’s life when she worried she had too much power. She had so many titles in the California Democratic Party, including chairwoman, that she told Lindy Boggs, a Louisiana congresswoman, that she was thinking of giving some up.
That was in 1984, and Ms. Boggs “said, ‘Darlin’, no man would ever think that. Don’t you give anything up,’” Ms. Pelosi said in a recent interview, leaning forward as she mimicked Ms. Boggs’s Southern accent. “And then she said, ‘Know thy power.’”
Yeah you right, Lindy.
Finally, I cannot resist pointing out that Tony Bennett, Tim Gunn, and Grateful Dead drummer Mickey Hart were among Nancy Smash’s invited guests yesterday. I had somehow missed the Pelosi-Dead connection previously but it tickles me:
The fact that the 78-year-old Pelosi loves the Dead isn’t surprising. After all, she represents California’s 12th district, which is comprised of tie-dyed ground zero San Francisco, a city practically synonymous with the Dead. Pelosi, conveniently, happens to be a huge fan. Back in 2015, a source spotted Pelosi at a show during the Fare Thee Well: Celebrating 50 Years of Grateful Dead tour and told the San Francisco Chronicle that the congresswoman “was definitely free-form dancing.” She was also spotted heading backstage during intermission to say hello to Hart.
Loving the Dead is apparently a tradition in the Pelosi clan. “It’s a tough competition in my family for the favorite Grateful Dead song. For myself, it’s ‘Fire on the Mountain,’” the House speaker told fashion designer Tori Burch’s Tory Daily blog in 2015. “‘Ripple,’ however, has been a Pelosi family lullaby for years now. My daughter Christine has sung it to my granddaughter ever since she was three months old, and now my granddaughter sings it herself.”
The last word goes to the Grateful Dead and Jimmie Dale Gilmore with apologies to John B. Sebastian:
I’ve missed having Willard Mittbot Romney to kick around. I silently cheered as he ran for the Senate in one of his many home states. Utah was the land of political opportunity, so that’s where the consummate opportunist landed. So much for Michigan, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and California. I hope his car elevator doesn’t get rusty.
Willard made a big splash the other day with an op-ed in the Bezos Post. He reminded us that he doesn’t like Donald Trump’s table manners but that he’ll vote for anything that doesn’t deviate from conservative orthodoxy. Sound familiar? He’s following in the footsteps of his fellow Mormon, Jeff Flake. All profile, no courage.
I still think the op-ed is a big deal. As you can see from this 2011 cartoon, I’m not the only one who thinks that Willard is a political weathervane:
The Brits call them weathercocks but that’s too racy for Willard.
The mere fact that Romney felt emboldened to attack Trump in print means that the president* is in deep trouble. The Mittbot is big on positioning and he’s positioning himself to pick up the pieces if Trump’s support continues to wash away like the Louisiana coastline. There’s more scandal to come and Willard sees himself as a Republican Brigham Young only without the plural wives. Of course, Young believed in something so the analogy is imperfect but it’s mine, all mine.
Do I think Romney will challenge Trump for the Republican nomination in 2020? Absolutely not. Running against a sitting president* of one’s own party requires convictions and passion. In contrast, the Mittbot ran against his own health care plan in 2012. He’s the quintessential buttoned down establishmentarian, not a maverick. To say that he’s no TR, Henry Wallace, Gene McCarthy, or Pat Buchanan is a grotesque understatement.
The flying monkeys of Trumpistan have been all over Willard since the op-ed landed. Lou Dobbs is apoplectic, and Senator Aqua Buddha wedged his head farther up the Trump rump than previously thought anatomically possible. Rand Paul is gifted that way. Remember when he was the brogressive darling of the MSM? Those days are, I daresay, gone with the wind.
The best response came from the RNC chair who just happens to be Romney’s niece. So much for Romney family values. Political hackery and cowardice are in the blood, apparently.
In another sign of Trumper panic, the RNC is considering changing its rules to make it harder to challenge the Kaiser of Chaos. While this is bad news for John Kasich, it’s good news for the country. The flop sweat is flowing profusely in Republican circles.
The most muted response thus far is from the Insult Comedian himself. In an indication that he fears his party’s 2012 nominee, he suggested that Willard should be a team player. It’s unlikely that mild rebuke will be Trump’s last word on the subject. Hell, he may have even gone off on Willard as I write this. It’s good to have something to look forward to.
I have friends who are convinced the GOP has become a Trump death cult and will stick with him to the bitter end. I disagree. The first rule of political hackery is self-preservation. Trump is looking more and more like a loser every day. Rats abandon a sinking ship, they don’t board as it’s going down. Willard Mittbot Romney is the ultimate political survivor. He’s sent a signal to his fellow Republican rats that they should abandon the USS Trump when it’s politically expedient.
I’d like to close with some inside baseball. It has nothing to do with America’s former pastime, and everything to do with blogging. I have a couple of journalist friends whose advice I seek on punctuation and post titles; the former is not one of my strengths. One might even call them my Deep Blog panel. I was torn title-wise this time around. There were several contenders including “They Call Willard The Breeze” and “Blowing With The Wind: Senator Romney Speaks.” One member of the Deep Blog panel had their own suggestion: “The wind breaks, and Romney sniffs at Trump.” A good one, but there’s no musical cue.
In the end, I went with the funniest title, “The Wind Cries Willard.” It also allows me to give Jimi Hendrix the last word:
Is there anyone in history less like Willard than Jimi Hendrix?
That concludes this edition of the Willard Mittbot Romney Experience.
The title is a teaser without the firecat. I’m less interested in the 2020 presidential election than in the return of Speaker Pelosi, the Mueller investigation, and the slow, steady erosion of the Insult Comedian’s popularity and sanity. Change is already in the air.
At this point, 2020 talk is speculative gasbaggery. Until more candidates declare, extensive commentary is the equivalent of the blind leading the blind or is that the bland leading the bland? In either event, strike up the band.
End of epic and overly punny disclaimer. I have some pithy observations to make about 2020 talk before I return to more important subjects like congressional oversight of the Trump regime.
I hate the whole “how dare so and so run” thing that’s commonplace on the dimmer corners of the internet such as the tweeter tube. The more the merrier as far as I’m concerned. If Michael Bloomberg wants to throw away $100 million of his own money, that’s fine with me. He can afford it.
Let nice Uncle Joe and cranky Uncle Bernie run as well. The voters will decide. I prefer not to have a nominee who would the oldest president ever elected but anyone is better than the Current Occupant. I like the idea of a Warren-Booker ticket but wish she were a decade younger. On the subject of Senator Professor Warren: Adrastos to Politico, drop dead.
We’ve all spent a lot time discussing Watergate. The 2020 Democratic field may end up resembling that of the post Watergate election of 1976. The prize was won that time by the ultimate “why not me?” candidate, Jimmy Carter. Be on the lookout for dark horses, it could be their year. Amy Klobuchar is my favorite among the sleepers. Minnesota nice could be the best antidote to Manhattan mean.
Another thing that drives me nuts is the endless re-litigating of the 2016 Democratic primaries on social media. Twitter isn’t the real world but the stakes are too high in 2020 to have to listen to the endless whining about the last presidential election. It may be hypocritical for me to quote a tweet from the sage of East Jesus Tennessee but I’m gonna do it anyway:
It is either far too late, or far too soon to be re-litigating the 2016 election. Support your fav in the 2020 Primary, and then put your butthurt feefees aside, and vote for the final Nomination. SIMPLE.
The man is a Deadhead, so he knows his shit, y’all. I hope that tweet has a ripple effect.
One more thought about 2020 talk. I have a hunch that Trump will not be on the ballot. I’m not sure of the how or when but Democrats need to prepare to run against another Republican be it Pence or their own dark horse. Trump’s refusal to attempt to expand his base in the wake of the GOP’s midterm loss makes him look like a loser. Eventually, the Republicans will get tired of so much losing. Believe me.
Dr. A and I closed out the holidays by watching the AKC dog show on the tube. We’re cat people who also love dogs. Della was horrified and retaliated by snoring loudly while she slept during the festivities. Holy protest snoring, Batman.
Our dog show evening has inspired a dog album cover morning. I picked the covers regardless of whether I like the music or not. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.
Thanks to the idiot president* the news hasn’t slowed down over the holidays but I’ve slow walked my punditry. The pace of events this year has been exhausting and, unlike Reddy Kilowatt, I’m not wired to keep going 24-7-365. I pulled the plug on following presidential* antics as closely as usual on Christmas day. I see no reason to plug back in until 2019.
What have I missed? The casual cruelty of the Insult Comedian and his minions regarding “illegal aliens.” Two children died while detained by the Department of Homeland Insecurity. The Trump regime’s response has been to blame the victims and Democrats. Congressman Peter King’s response has been to praise the government’s safety record. I believe King also praised the Provisional IRA’s safety record during the Troubles.
The Trump government shutdown continues apace. To everyone’s surprise, the president* has stayed at the White House instead of decamping to Mar a Lago. This is his idea of sacrifice: he’s also afraid of being handbagged by the Coultergeist. Repeat after me: Trump is a pussy. He should grab himself.
Trump seems convinced that if he holds his breath until he turns blue, he’ll get taxpayers to fund his stupid wall. I thought the Mexicans were supposed to pay for it. Trumberius seems to have said adios to that notion:
I don’t do New Years resolutions, but I remain resolved to relentlessly mock the Party of Trump and all its malefactions. Mockery is the best remedy to a president* who is unable to laugh at himself.
Another reason I’ve been recharging my blogging battery is that I caught another cold. (Another seems to be the word of the day.) I made the mistake of eating some broccolini off the plate of an elderly friend at Christmas lunch. I hate to see food wasted. Unfortunately, she informed the table that she was coming down with a cold after both her daughter and I ate her leftovers. And I thought vegetables were supposed to be good for you.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: bad times are good for satire. As a citizen, I want things to improve but it’s been good for me as a blogger. My grand total for the year was 484 posts. P is for prolific.
I started off with 100 possibilities and cut that in half for a grand total of 50. Who the hell has a top 50 list? I do and for the second year in a row. Blame a certain Insult Comedian with a dead nutria atop his head.
We spent the night in Red Stick on Christmas Eve and returned home the next afternoon. Della Street was indignant. Paul Drake was pitiful. Some things never change.
It’s that time of year again: Listomania is in the air. One of my favorite bloggers, Batocchio is carrying on a tradition started by the late Jon Swift/Al Weisel: a roundup of the best posts of the year as selected by the bloggers themselves.
My contribution to the Jon Swift Roundup 2018 is a post about Hope Hicks’ departure from the White House: White Girl, White Lies. It’s also featured in the upcoming Best of Adrastos edition of Saturday Odds & Sods. My attempts to winnow it down to a top forty have come a cropper (akimbo?) so it’s a top fifty again. What can I say? I’m my own biggest fan.
Here’s the featured image for the post included in the roundup:
Nuggetswas a trailblazing “various artists” album compiled by Lenny Kaye. He dug deep into the archives and produced an album of psychedelic rock and garage band tracks that was a hit in 1972. The album’s punny subtitle says it all: Artyfacts From The First Psychedelic Era.
Nuggets influenced the punk and new wave bands later in the decade and led to a series of Nuggets albums. It has nothing to do with chicken or the NBA team of the same name.
Here’s the whole damn album via the YouTube for your post-Christmas listening pleasure:
No politics from me today. No insights about Christmas Eve either. I like the title since it evokes All About Eve, which was more about Margot Channing now that I think about it. It’s not about the 2012 teevee movie All About Christmas Eve either. That’s a good thing since I just heard of it. I’m not big on Lifetime or Hallmark holiday movies. They’re fruitcake for the eyes.
You’re probably wondering what this post is about. Me too. Oh yeah, I wanted to quote the boss lady telling the Insult Comedian to STFU on the tweeter tube yesterday.
Shut up. Just shut up. Christmas is in 2 days. Shut the hell up about yourself for 2 damn days and let us take a breath. I'm not even asking you to be a PRESIDENT. Just to stop being whatever this is. 2 goddamn days of quiet. Leave us alone. https://t.co/fIba4hhdOI
I was under the weather for several days, which means that this week’s outing will be somewhat truncated. I don’t have the full Odds & Sods spirit but I’m working on the Christmas spirit. It’s hard for someone inclined to root for Scrooge, the Grinch, and Mr. Potter but I’m giving it the old school try. I’m not quite sure which old school to apply to.
The featured image is a picture of a house a few blocks away from Adrastos World HQ. It’s always seasonally decorated by the elderly black lady who lives there with her son. During Carnival, they like to blast old school soul music. Good god, y’all.
This week’s theme song was written in 2004 by Ed Robertson for Barenaked for the Holidays. The studio version features a guest appearance by crooner Michael Bublé. It’s unknown if Bublé brought bubbly to the session. The live version flat out rocks in an elvish way.
I’m still a bit enervated from my malady but let’s jump to the break anyway. Hopefully, that pesky Santa and his sleigh won’t be in the way. Neither Donner not Vixen likes me at all. I find Vixen vexatious so the feeling is mutual.
Twas the Friday before Christmas and all was not quiet in the house or in the country. All Americans want to do is to focus on holiday prep and look forward to time away from work and school. We need a break from the frenetic news cycle of the last two years. It was not to be. There are a series of crises involving the federal budget, major tsuris at the Justice Department, and the resignation of Defense Secretary Jim Mattis. The result is chaos and not the sort of chaos involving wrapping paper, presents, and family fights. I’m talking man-made chaos, Trump style. That’s why I call him the Kaiser of Chaos.
In stark contrast to his soon-to-be former boss, Mattis went out with style and class. He offered that rarity in our political history: a protest resignation. Mattis is the first Secretary of Defense to ever do so. Protest resignations by senior American cabinet officers are rarer than snow in South Louisiana. The only one I can think of in my lifetime was Secretary of State Cyrus Vance’s resignation in protest of the Carter administration’s botched hostage rescue raid in 1980.
Trump’s impulsive decision to withdraw from Syria was the last straw for Mattis. Here’s the deal: I’m not wild about the Syria deployment BUT a process is required for troop withdrawals. Trump is not big on process, the military is.
It’s also creepy that Putin and Erdogan are as pleased as punch by Trump’s Syria move. Putin wants a free hand in his client state, and Erdogan regards the Kurds much as the leaders of the Ottoman Empire regarded the Armenians. The Kurds are our only allies in the Syrian mess. When in doubt, Trump dumps on our allies, not our adversaries.
The Justice Department blew up with the news that Acting AG and Lex Luthor lookalike, Matt Whitaker, ignored the advice of DOJ ethics types to recuse himself from supervising the Mueller probe and issued his own findings. The DOJ issued conflicting accounts of what happened but that’s the bottom line. And the guy Trump has nominated as the permanent AG, William Barr, also has extreme views on the Mueller probe, which he offered in an unsolicited memo to the DOJ. Whitaker, Barr, and Trump agree with Tricky Dick:
On Wednesday, it looked as if Trump was prepared to fold on the government shutdown front. Then the flying banshees of wingnuttia began to circle the presidential* carcass like vultures around road kill. The government is shutting down because Rushbo and the Coultergeist challenged the Insult Comedian’s manhood over the wall. Trump is a pussy. He should grab himself.
It doesn’t matter that Republican congresscritters want to go home for the holidays instead of being blamed for a shutdown: the wall is all. The votes aren’t there and the Mexicans won’t pay for it but the wall is all. Make that wall:
Here’s one of the weirder dimensions of late 2018 Trumpism. For reasons that are not entirely clear to me the word has apparently come down from the White House that the wall, as in the wall to be built along the southern border, must now be called “wall”. In other words, no definite article, no “the”. President Trump now does this. It was part of a DHS press release a week ago. And today in a congressional hearing, DHS Secretary Kirstjen Nielsen told Rep. Tom Marino: “From Congress I would ask for wall. We need wall.”
Everything is weird about Trumpism, Josh. From provoking a government shutdown for which you will be blamed to shitting all over our allies to the president* recreating the madness of King George III. Nothing makes sense. That’s why I call him the Kaiser of Chaos.
The last word goes to Pink Floyd:
That was a bit too obvious. Now that I think of it, there’s another classic rock song that applies to Trump himself. Here’s how Ian Anderson explains the title: “it means as intelligent as a lump of shit.” That’s the president* in a wingnutshell.
Sometimes Paul Drake gets so close to the space heater that he looks orange. I tried petting him when he was this close: he was too hot to handle. Oy just oy.
In a sign of how bad things are going for the Trump regime, Stephen Miller appeared on CBS’ Face The Nation last Sunday. The Trump henchman emulated his master by augmenting his hair. The Insult Comedian has a weave, Miller has a spray can.
Instead of posting pictures of Miller’s spray-do, I prefer to post Jim Carrey’s take on Miller’s Sunday show prep:
I decided to keep it seasonal as well as Dickensian this week. Dickens was fond of villains who could be redeemed by the goodness of his other characters. That fits Ebenezer Scrooge to a T. Where I fit on this spectrum remains an open question.
It’s time for before and after, Pulp Fiction Thursday style. I’m uncertain, however, if that’s supposed to be Scrooge or Bob Cratchit toting Tiny Tim on the right.
Contemplating Jacob Marley’s ghost has given me an earworm. The last word goes to Aimee Mann:
I wrote a rather sympathetic piece about Michael Flynn after Team Mueller filed its sentencing memo. I’m not *retracting* that post BUT my empathy for the disgraced General is gone, baby, gone after the unsentencing hearing in Judge Emmet Sullivan’s courtroom. I’ve gone from “let him up easy” to “lock him up” in less than two weeks.
Flynn’s high-priced lawyers, from the establishment firm Covington & Burling, violated the first rule of litigation: NEVER PISS OFF THE JUDGE. Hell, I learned that on the first day of law school from my Jimmy Stewart soundalike civil procedure professor, Gary Roberts.
The sin of Flynn’s mouthpieces was to imply in *their* sentencing memo that Flynn was tricked into lying to the FBI by Peter Strzok and Andrew McCabe. They are, of course, the Feebs who have been demonized by the harpies of Trumpistan. Furthermore, the memo claimed that Flynn didn’t know that lying to the FBI was a crime.
To say these assertions are laughable is an understatement. Entrapment is a defense that rarely, if ever, works in Federal Court; just ask the Abscam defendants. Conspiracy theories are even less effective: stuff that flies on Fox News or Info Wars gets shot down in court.
Sullivan unloaded on Flynn for lying to the FBI in a January 2017 interview while he was serving in the highest levels of the federal government. The judge appeared outraged by assertions that Flynn was “entrapped” into making false statements to federal agents, as Flynn’s defense attorneys and supporters have suggested over the past few days.
Sullivan asked Flynn if he wanted to delay his sentencing in order “to challenge the circumstances under which” he was interviewed.
“No, your honor,” Flynn replied. “I was aware that lying to the FBI was a crime.”
Sullivan repeatedly pointed out that Flynn engaged in this “very serious offense” during an interview inside the White House itself.
“I’m not hiding my disgust, my disdain for this criminal offense,” Sullivan said.
What’s the first rule of lititgation?
That’s a picture of my new hero, Judge Emmet G. Sullivan. The specious and downright ridiculous arguments by Flynn’s attorneys led to some plain speaking by the Judge. It’s what the Brits would call a right bollocking.
When I first read the defense memo, I was gobsmacked by the refried conspiracy theories therein. It was a dumb move after the glowing words about Flynn’s co-operation from the Special Counsel’s Office. The memo blew up what should have been a semi-routine hearing and led to a delay in sentencing. Judge Sullivan would have sent Flynn to jail yesterday. I’m beginning to think that’s where he belongs as well. Watergate whistleblower John Dean was sentenced to 16 months and wound up serving 4 months in the slammer. After this stunt, why should Flynn get a sweeter deal than John Fucking Dean?
I’m not exactly sure what motivated this fuck up by Flynn’s lawyers but hubris is one word that comes to mind. Many wonder if they were fishing for a pardon, but once the extent of his co-operation is revealed, the president* may call Flynn a rat too. Remember: Judge Sullivan has read all the redacted bits of the sentencing memos. He knows the full extent of Flynn’s crimes. I suspect that the reason the Insult Comedian has been fluffing Flynn is that the disgraced General has implicated him. The worst case scenario remains in effect.
One of the sweetest things about the Flynn hearing is that it left egg on the faces of wingnut conspiracy theorists and Trump lackeys alike. Oh, happy day.
Since this is a followup to the more favorable The Fog Of Scandal: Hey Nineteen post, it has the same format including a featured image of the single cover. I somehow doubt Steely Dan would mind being lumped in with the Rolling Stones.
