Category Archives: Political Crack

Quote Of The Day: Pence Follow-Up

I must admit to being proud of yesterday’s Mike Pence Is Made Of Calmer Stuff post. According to Peter Baker, Maggie Haberman, and Annie Karni of the NYT, Pence *was* angered by Trump throwing him under the proverbial bus. But in true passive-aggressive style, he vented to others, not President* Pennywise. Mike Pence is a world class tongue biter.

The NYT’s take on the Pence-Trump dust-up is different than that of the WaPo. They obviously had different sources. One thing they agree on is that Pence viewed his role in the administration* as calming down the Kaiser of Chaos and shielding staff from his wrath. Once again, Mike Pence is made of calmer stuff.

You’re probably wondering where the quote of the day is. Here we go:

Mr. Trump was enraged that Mr. Pence was refusing to try to overturn the election. In a series of meetings, the president had pressed relentlessly, alternately cajoling and browbeating him. Finally, just before Mr. Pence headed to the Capitol to oversee the electoral vote count last Wednesday, Mr. Trump called the vice president’s residence to push one last time.

“You can either go down in history as a patriot,” Mr. Trump told him, according to two people briefed on the conversation, “or you can go down in history as a pussy.”

This quote is an exhibit in my ongoing case that irony isn’t dead. It works both ways. After years of being a pussy, Mike Pence finally stood up to his boss and will go down in history as a patriot for a day.

Repeat after me: Mike Pence is made of calmer stuff. During the Twelfth Night White Riot aka the Dipshit Insurrection it paid off.

Mike Pence Is Made Of Calmer Stuff

I haven’t spent much time pondering what makes Mike Pence tick. He’s so stoical, pious, and low-key that it’s hard for someone like me to find someone like him interesting. But I’m a writer and I’m interested in why people do the things they do. Additionally, there’s a fascinating piece in today’s WaPo about the collapse of his relationship with President* Pennywise. That’s why I have Mike Pence on my mind right now.

It’s not just buck-naked ambition with Mike Pence as it is with Ted Cruz. There’s a cultivated blandness there that has always made me uneasy. Pence is the kid in your class who tattles on his classmates and sucks up to the grownups. He was probably middle-aged at heart when the rest of us were having food fights and making crank calls. Mike Pence has never made a crank call in his life. He wouldn’t even know why this is funny:

Mike Pence is *always* understated hence his underreaction to the fly on his head at the Veep debate. The Veep has taken understatement to a whole new level in the aftermath of the Dipshit Insurrection. The mob was chanting “Kill Mike Pence” as they burst into the Capitol. A normal human being would pop their cork, lose their shit, or otherwise display emotion. Not Mike Pence, he’s made of calmer stuff.

A normal human being would have marched to the White House after the riot, demanded to see President* Pennywise, and screamed at him: “You told rioters to come after me, you twisted son of a bitch.” Not Mike Pence, he’s made of calmer stuff.

My father was obsessed with people’s national origins in a non-bigoted way. He was a proud Greek American and thought everyone else should be equally proud of their own ethnicity. This background led me to ponder Pence’s origins, he seems to be 3/4 Irish and 1/4 German. Even using the broadest ethnic stereotyping that explains nothing. Germans are allegedly calm but the Irish-at least on St. Patrick’s Day and in John Ford movies-are excitable. In theory, Mike Pence should only be 1/4 calm. Nobody would select this as Pence’s personal theme song:

Then I pondered his region of origin. He’s a Midwesterner and they’re prone to laconic low-keyness. Is that a word? If not, it should be.

In theory, his Hoosier roots should make him a calm basketball fan, but that doesn’t explain his eerie underreaction to the dipshit lynch mob that howled his name at the Twelfth Night White Riot. Hoosier hoops fans yell at the refs when they blow a call. Not Mike Pence. He worships authority even when it’s personified by an Impeached Insult Comedian with a dead nutria pelt atop his head. Why? Mike Pence is made of calmer stuff.

Next, I sought an explanation in his religiosity. Mike Pence is an evangelical Christian, but they’re prone to snake handling, speaking in tongues, and religious ecstasy. Mike Pence has never been ecstatic in his life. Mike Pence is made of calmer stuff.

If Mike Pence were a normal person, he would have run out of patience with the Kaiser of Chaos last week. We know Pence make some decisions that prevented Trump from issuing orders to the military, which is a good thing. What’s vexing is his refusal to assist in removing Trump from office via the 25th Amendment or urging him to resign. It can’t just be political calculation. Deep down, Mike Pence must know that sycophantic Veeps are rarely elected president or even nominated by their party. Just ask J. Danforth Quayle. He knows.

Most of us would have felt righteous indignation after a run-in with a feral Trumper mob. Not Mike Pence, he’s made of calmer stuff.

As you can see, I spent too much time yesterday pondering what makes Mike Pence tick. I am at a loss. I have a hard time understanding people with no sense of humor. Mike Pence wouldn’t know a joke if it punched him in the balls. Of course, his balls are held hostage by President* Pennywise and kept in an undisclosed location.

In the end, the only explanation I could up with is the one I started with: Mike Pence is made of calmer stuff.

The last word goes to Cyndi Lauper who is not a calm Midwestern evangelical Christian. Instead, she’s a girl who just wants to have fun. Mike Pence is not into fun. He’s made of calmer stuff:

 

Guest Post: Gently Rise and Softly Fall

You can’t shake a tree around here without a guest writer falling out. This time it’s a friend of mine from the internet music mailing list scene. It’s a scene that barely exists now because of social media but it was once lively.

In the great tradition of First Draft pen names, she is writing as Cassandra. Here’s hoping that her prophecies are not scorned by our readers.

-Adrastos

Gently Rise and Softly Fall by Cassandra

I woke up this morning in a really crappy mood, which is pretty normal given what is going on right now. When I sat down with my laptop, my first reminder was “write piece about joy”. OK, here goes nothing.

Last March, my husband and I were watching our cat Rey play with her favorite toy:  a spring coated in vinyl. Cats play when all their needs have been met and so they can expend precious energy for fun things. Rey stands up on her back legs when she plays with a spring, passing it from paw to paw, and dancing herself. She goes to the legs of the bar stools and climbs over and around the legs, with the spring turning round. It’s infectiously joyful to watch. I clearly remember saying that we needed to memorize that image because we were going to need to remember what joy looked like as the months went on.

Last January I started reading Wanderers by Chuck Wending, a book about a mysterious pandemic which also included the scenario of an authoritarian US president and a national election. I also stopped reading it in January as things got to be way too close to real life here in the US. (Don’t spoil it for me—I fully intend to pick it back in a week or so.) Even though I couldn’t read the novel, I came across some of his stuff on Twitter and found his blog. A week after I had that conversation with my husband, Wendig wrote this:

Also accept any joy you feel and do so without guilt. Joy is hard-won, and if you manage that victory, there’s no shame in that. Take the victory lap. We will have to hunt joy like an elusive beast across the wasteland.

If you capture it, celebrate.

I thought of both of those things that glorious Saturday when the national election was called for Joe and Kamala (the weirdness of a TV network calling an election is a conversation for another day).  I live in West Virginia, so there was no parade of cars through the streets, honking and beeping for joy. (I made do with yelling “BEEEEEEEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP” all day around the house (my poor husband)). I don’t know that there was much uncertainty around the final outcome earlier that morning, but the joy was certainly real and comforting—because we could recognize what joy looked like.

I studied US history for a long time, and I have a lot of things to say about politics. I think last week was the worst week in US history, and this week has already said “Hold my beer,” so politics can wait another day. Find some joy today and hold it fast.

Disbar Hawley & Cruz

Josh Hawley’s pasty white fist is one of the indelible images of the Dipshit Insurrection. I’ve promoted it from uprising to insurrection since hearing reports of how violent it was. Heckuva job, Hawley.

There’s much discussion about how to punish the ringleaders of the attempted electoral college negation: Senators Hawley and Cruz who doubled down on their assholery after the sack of the Capitol. I suggested that the senate censure them yesterday since the chances of an expulsion are slim and none and slim is hiding out with the dipshit rebels.

A friend sent me a link to a petition that is circulating in legal circles urging me to urge my lawyer friends to sign it. It has a delightful name: Petition To Disbar Senators Hawley and Cruz:

In leading the efforts to undermine the peaceful transition of power after a free and fair election, Senators Hawley and Cruz attacked the foundations of our democracy. Nearly 160 million Americans exercised their right to vote in the November 2020 election. Dozens of courts rejected unfounded claims of widespread voter fraud, and the Electoral College formally ratified President-elect Biden’s victory on December 14, 2020. Despite these clear expressions of the will of the people—and with full knowledge of the implications of their actions—Senators Hawley and Cruz publicly announced their intentions to object to Congress’s certification of the Electoral College’s votes set for January 6, 2021.

In doing so, Senators Hawley and Cruz directly incited the January 6th insurrection, repeating dangerous and unsubstantiated statements regarding the election and abetting the lawless behavior of President Trump. A violent mob attacked the U.S. Capitol. Five people have died. The nation and the world watched as rioters took over the very halls and chambers that embody our democracy. Yet after the violence and terror of the day’s events, Senators Hawley and Cruz still chose to stand in the chamber of the U.S. Senate and persist in their baseless objections to the will of the people.

I originally didn’t plan to sign it as I’m on the Louisiana Bar Association’s inactive list but decided to go for it after disclosing my current status. I’ll let the folks behind the drive decide how to handle it.

Any lawyers reading this should sign even you’re not admitted in Missouri, Texas, or the District of Columbia. This hits Hawley and Tailgunner Ted where they live. Both are fond of bragging about their Ivy League legal bona fides. Yale or Harvard cannot rescind their law degrees, but this would be a kick in the ego for both men.

Try as they might they cannot wash off the insurrection stink.

Self-Pardon Yourself, Donald. I Dare You.

Image by Michael F.

In the wake of the Twelfth Night White Riot, President* Pennywise has resumed his self-pardon musings. I am on the record as believing that a self-pardon would be unconstitutional and unlikely to survive a court challenge. If I were like my former law professor Con Law, I’d drop Larry Tribe’s name at this point. Oops, I did it again. I cannot help myself. It’s one of my favorite stories.

Why am I suddenly advocating an unconstitutional presidential* self-pardon? For two reasons. First, it’s doomed to fail in the courts. There’s no way even the current SCOTUS has a majority that will uphold an action that clearly makes future presidents above the law. It will also have the comedic effect of extending Team Trump’s legal losing streak.

Second, it will oblige the Department of Justice to indict the Kaiser if Chaos on federal charges. The Sovereign District of New York has been itching to indict Trump since the Stormy Daniels payoff case. A self-pardon will make such an indictment inevitable. That should open the floodgates on federal legal action against Donald J Trump and his criminal associates. A president who has acted like a mob boss should be treated like one. I may have to revive my mob boss nickname for Trump: Don Donaldo, Il Comico Insulto. FYI, I’m not adding Impeached to that nickname. I’m also uncertain if I will call him the Impeached Impeached Insult Comedian if he becomes the first person to be doubly impeached. Too much typing.

Enough about nicknames, back to the law.

A test case is not only necessary to test a self-pardon’s constitutionality, it’s imperative. If it is allowed to stand, all presidents would be above the law. President* Pennywise may like that idea but no one else should.

So, Donald, self-pardon yourself. I double dog dare you. One of your presidential predecessors, Ronald Reagan, was fond of quoting Dirty Harry Callahan played in the movies by Clint Eastwood. He gets the last word:

Censure The Dirty Octet

I’m calling them the Dirty Octet because I called the original group The Dirty Dozen as a sort of homage to my countrymen who were in that great action movie:  John Cassavetes and Maybe Cousin Telly Savalas. It’s easy to imagine Telly’s character, Archer Maggot, as one of the dipshit seditionists who stormed the Capitol on Twelfth Night.

That’s right I used the S word: Sedition, which requires action or force. That happened with the Twelfth Night White Riot. Mercifully, many of the dipshit rioters bragged about their exploits on social media, so there were a wave of arrests this weekend. If it were a movie it could be called, The Deep State Strikes Back.

The speakers at the Trump rally including the Impeached Insult Comedian could arguably be charged with inciting a seditious riot, but that’s unlikely to apply to members of Congress who did not speak at the rally. Voting for a challenge to electoral college results is inadvisable, but it *is* authorized by law. Besides, Democrats filed electoral college challenges in 2000, 2004, and 2016. I don’t think of Barbara Boxer and Maxine Waters as seditionists and neither should anyone else.

Expulsion is highly unlikely, but there *is* a sanction available to punish those members who voted to overturn results AFTER the riot: CENSURE. It’s much stronger than it sounds. I realize it’s hard to shame the shameless but censure would put them in the company of Joe McCarthy who is currently rotting in hell. I suspect Tailgunner Joe’s hell is booze and camera-free.

It was surprising that Ron Johnson and Kelly Loeffler did not vote to overturn the results. Johnson is one of the stupidest members of the senate and Loeffler ran a shameless, mendacious, and conspiracy riddled campaign, but they declined to join the Dirty Octet after having been members of the Dirty Dozen. Please listen for the sound of one hand clapping…

Speaking of the shameless and the stupid: John Neely Kennedy is officially more shameless than Loefller and Tuberville is stupider than Johnson. I once thought that Ron Johnson’s status as the stupidest senator was unassailable. Tuberville done trumped him. Tommy Tuberville replacing Doug Jones is as big a downgrade as Ron Johnson replacing Russ Feingold. Oy just oy.

The notion of censure applies to the 138 House GOPers who voted with the Dirty Octet. If the House GOP had any sense, Kevin McCarthy and Steve Scalise would lose their leaderships roles. Unfortunately, House Republicans are insensate.

I just dropped by to vent. The Saints are playing da Bears in a playoff game later today at the Superdome, so it’s time to turn my attention to more pleasant matters.

Saturday Odds & Sods: Through Your Hands

Drug Store by Edward Hopper.

It’s been cold every day this year. Not Chicago cold, but New Orleans cold is damp and gets in your bones. It makes one feel creaky and cranky. I don’t know about you, but I didn’t need anything to make me feel crankier in the waning days of the Trump regime. We all just want him to exit the national scene before he wreaks more havoc. He plans to stick around but the events of the last week may make that harder than previously thought. Stay tuned.

I didn’t plan to make January John Hiatt-Edward Hopper month. It just happened that way. Once I used Stolen Moments for Album Cover Art Wednesday, the die was cast or did the cast die? I prefer the former.

John Hiatt wrote this week’s theme song for the aforementioned album in 1989. It’s a lovely mid-tempo ballad that I saw him open a show with in the late 1990’s. He sang it without accompaniment, then the band joined him for Drive South. Twas a great show.

We have multiple versions of Through Your Hands for your listening pleasure. We begin with the Hiatt original followed by covers from Joan Baez, David Crosby, and Don Henley.

Don Henley’s version was in the Nora Ephron-John Travolta movie Michael, which was about an angel come to earth. At least I think it was: I saw it in a movie theatre when it came out many years ago. I could Google it, but I’m on a roll so I won’t.

I miss attending the movies less than expected. I loved the outing and the big screen BUT I despise people who talk during the show. I’m a shusher from way back. The only one I have to shush now is Claire Trevor as she demands a handout. You’d think that the namesake of a movie star would have more respect. Cats: can’t live with them, can’t live without them.

Let’s strap on some angel wings and fly to the break. I’m tired of jumping.

Continue reading

Guest Post: The Dead Fish Problem

I’m Greek and believe in cronyism and nepotism if the person is talented. My old friend Shapiro is a talented writer. He has requested that I only use his last name. Request granted. Just don’t call me Chief.

I hung out with Shapiro a lot when we both lived in San Francisco. We went to many ballgames at Candlestick Park together. The ballpark sucked, but the company was excellent.

We were known to heckle opposing players. I’ll never forget the time we went after Pittsburgh Pirates 2B Rennie Stennett. Our group was merciless. Oddly enough, Stennett signed with the Giants the next season and was an expensive flop. That concludes this episode of when I was young and obnoxious theatre. It wasn’t very theatrical, was it?

-Adrastos

The Dead Fish Problem by Shapiro

Hear me out about this.

I don’t claim to be a lawyer (much to my parents’ dismay) or a political operative or a public relations wizard (that position is held by my younger son). I am wrong about political maneuvers I see in the media as often as I am right which probably means I should go into the political operative business because that gives me a higher batting average than many of them.

But I digress.

My point is I am not a pro when it comes to political posturing. But I am a pro when it comes to knowing how to rid yourself of a dead fish.

Dead fish smell. They smell bad. Go ahead, smell one for yourself and see. Told you so. Problem is you can’t just throw a dead fish out. Doing that just stinks up the garbage pail in your kitchen, then the garbage can in the side yard, and if you live in an area that outdoor critters are known to prowl the smell of the dead fish will encourage said critters to tip over your garbage cans in attempts to retrieve what it considers to be a tasty treat and you’re left with your neighbor Fred’s icy stares for being such a slob.

So you must be careful in the disposal of a dead fish. You have to wrap it in plastic to segment it from the rest of the trash, then you have to acknowledge there is a dead fish in the garbage (“Hey Fred sorry about the smell from the dead fish in my garbage”) even if the smell can’t be detected. You have to tightly secure the lid to the garbage can, so no roving band of raccoons get wind of the deliciousness awaiting them inside. Once the garbage company comes and hauls it away no one need think about it again.

Which brings us to the Republican Party and the dead fish that is Donald J. Trump.

Up until January 6, 2021 the Republican Party fully embraced Donald Trump. That embrace covered a wide gauntlet from full on “the election was rigged and unfair” to “we need to investigate possible irregularities in the voting” to “the election was fair, and he lost”, but they embraced him. Why not? He might have lost, but he got the second highest number of votes for president in the history of the country. That’s not a number to sneeze at. That’s a number a Republican challenger in 2024 would like to emulate. Add in the “hold my nose and vote for Biden because Trump is cray-cray” Republicans who you want to return and that’s a winning combination. Embracing him makes full political sense. Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley know that and that’s why they are at one end of the embracement scale while Mitt Romney is at the other. The little procedural BS they were going to engage in over the certification of the electoral college was all just so much talk to be able to chop up into fund raising media, a little red meat to throw to the fanatics.

Instead on January 6, 2021 that scale got thrown to the wolverines. Embrace Donald Trump? The man who incited a mob to march on the capitol, break through the doors, desecrate the chambers, and end up with one shot dead before they were pushed out? The man who set up a watch party in a tent on the White House lawn and let his son live cast a few minutes of him cheering on the mob via TV? The man who, when finally forced to attempt to calm the mob down, did so on YouTube instead of network TV even though cell service and Wi-Fi had been cut off to the capital and it’s surrounding area so none of the mob could see it? Who in that message said he loved them and just wanted them to be safe?

For those of you impatiently waiting for Trump’s Lonesome Rhodes comeuppance moment this was it.

Republican senators who had said they would sign on to the notion of a challenge to the electoral vote count began to drop. What once was 15 ended up at 4 (4 others changed votes after the measure was defeated). In the House, the numbers didn’t drop as dramatically, but they did drop. Suddenly congressmen who were afraid to speak against Trump for fear of being primaried in 2022 now had to worry about being primaried for not coming out hard enough against the main instigator of the mob. They were worried that the stink of Trump, like a dead fish, would cling to them long after the carcass had been thrown away.

In the spirit of bringing America together, allow me to offer a suggestion for the Republican Party.

While it’s tempting to just dump Trump in the garbage can, that would not solve your problem. I understand your need to walk a balance beam more agilely than an Olympic gymnast. You don’t want to piss off his supporters who, for the moment and with nowhere else to go, vote for you. But you also need to signal to the vast majority of Republicans, the people who didn’t storm Capitol Hill, and the independents who truly are the difference makers in elections, that you won’t stand for mob rule no matter what the mob was for.  If you urge the VP and the cabinet to invoke the 25th you’re pretty much admitting Trump was crazy from the beginning with the inference being that you enabled him which you did but we’re trying to work on solutions here. If you work for impeachment that just reminds voters, you had your chance a year ago to be rid of him and didn’t take it. Get him to resign? Fat chance he’d do that unless you can guarantee him a billion in gold, a plane to Moscow, and the promise to not try and extradite him back. Whatever you do, his stink will be in your Dolce & Gabbana outlet store suits for years to come.

Unless.

Crazy times call for crazy stunts. You know all that talk about working together to do what’s in the best interests of the country? How about you try it. I know it goes against everything you stand for McConnell, but right now the American people want to see something done. They watched on their TVs as a group of wild-eyed radicals, egged on by a defeated election loser, attack the very bastion of our democracy. That’s crap that happens elsewhere, not here in the good old US of A. They’re scared and anxious about what’s going to happen in the next two weeks. And when parents are scared and anxious their kids get scared and anxious and that’s one thing parents don’t forget easily, especially when it comes time to put that x next to a name on a ballot.

It would be so easy for you to do it. “Hey, you know what, we got conned. We thought he’d be a breath of fresh air, coming in and draining the swamp, but it turns out he’s nothing but a game show carny and we’re glad to see him go”.  Let his most vociferous champions throw their crap at you like apes in a cage, it won’t matter because they themselves will no longer matter. Their fifteen minutes are up. The funniest part of this is that of all things he was the one who handed you the perfect “we’re all gonna work together” issue — $2000 stimulus checks. Send everybody that check and then go one better. We know Biden’s coming in with a national mask mandate. Declare the pandemic to have jumped the fire line, desperate measures need to be taken, masks for all. This isn’t taking away your freedom, it’s giving you a fighting chance against a microscopic killer until everyone gets the vaccine.  If Trump says anything Republicans could turn this into the political equivalent of “new phone, who dis?”

You will have carefully wrapped him, his family, his Proud Boys, all up in plastic, carefully place them in the garbage, made sure all your neighbors know to be aware of the potential stink, secured the lid, and sent him to the garbage heap of history. Hell you might even get some Democrats to vote for you next time.

(To Democrats, that last line was just a tease to Republican leadership, a trail of Reese’s Pieces to coax them out into the world of reality.)

Shapiro Out.

Exodus, Movement Of Jah Trumpers

About the punny title, I’m doing my best to find humor in the dark and desperate ending of the Trump regime. Ridicule remains the best weapon against Trumpism and the sinister forces it has unleashed.

The Kaiser of Chaos is hunkered in his de facto bunker after the Dipshit Uprising blew up in his face. It’s like a Downfall video on a continuous loop. It’s making a loopy president* even loopier. His belated denunciation of the white riot and admission that he’s a loser is too little too late. He can go fuck himself.

The rats are fleeing the sinking ship in great numbers. I’m not going to list them all, but I know who the Pied Piper of Trumpistan is: White House counsel Pat Cipollone. He has been warning staffers to steer clear of President* Pennywise after he incited the Twelfth Night white riot:

As the violent mob incited by President Donald Trump stormed the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, some West Wing staffers panicked that they were possibly becoming participants in a coup to overthrow the government. “What do I do? Resign?” one nervous White House staffer asked a friend on Wednesday afternoon, shortly after news broke that a woman had been shot and killed inside the Capitol. The West Wing staffer told the friend that White House Counsel Pat Cipollone was urging White House officials not to speak to Trump or enable his coup attempt in any way, so they could reduce the chance they could be prosecuted for treason under the Sedition Act. “They’re being told to stay away from Trump,” the friend said. The White House declined to comment.

This is some serious shit. I’m still calling it a failed autogolpe, but they’ve moved from words to deeds, which means it’s gone beyond sycophancy to the realm of sedition.

Mild kudos to the staff members who decided to exit the White House before the lifeboats hit the water. Since Team Trump is in charge, they’re likely to have holes in them. They’ve never been able to do anything right and it’s only gotten worse.

I have nothing but contempt for the cabinet secretaries who are fleeing the scene of the crime. They don’t want their fingerprints on any 25th Amendment activity. Elaine Chao, Betsy DeVos, and their ilk are cowards running away from the mess that they’ve enabled for four years. They can go fuck themselves.

Mike Pompeo and Steve Mnuchin’s minions leaked a story about the possible removal of the unhinged president* to CNBC. The gist of the story is that they think it’s TOO HARD and time consuming to do. I call bullshit. The only time the 25th Amendment has ever been invoked was on The West Wing, so we have no idea how much time it would take. Pompeo has presidential ambitions and doesn’t want to alienate hardcore Trumpers. As to Mnuchin, he’s a worm. Make that a slug leaving a track of slime wherever he crawls.

I’m glad that Speaker Pelosi and leader Schumer are calling for President* Pennywise’s removal from office before January 20th. He’s done enough damage. It’s time for him to go.

The first time I saw Bob Marley and the Wailers perform Exodus was on Saturday Night Live. I was mesmerized by the groove and the politically charged lyrics. I still am. That performance is not online so this version from London’s Rainbow Theatre will just have to do:

The Dipshit Uprising

The Trump regime began knee deep in Stupid Watergate, they’re going out after having incited the Dipshit Uprising thereby casting a pall over Twelfth Night and my first King Cake of the season. It harshed my Georgia, Georgia, Georgia buzz as well. It was, however, more memorable than the fakakata election challenge mishigas event that bookended the riot.

That’s right, riot. Make that white riot as the only people of color on the scene were members of congress, the media, and law enforcement. It was white privilege gone haywire as well as a massive security failure. It’s clear that if the rioters had been carrying BLM banners and posters instead of Trump flags they would have been repelled with force and hundreds would have been arrested, not 52. That’s right, only 52 were arrested as if it were an Advent calendar, not a riot. Make that white rioters staging a Dipshit Uprising.

Once they stormed the Capitol, the scene inside looked like Bourbon Street on New Year’s Day. All that was lacking were booze and school colors waved by Sugar Bowl attendees: Roll Tide; How About Dem Dogs. Instead, they were clad in MAGA red and camo green and brown.

The rioters milled about taking selfies, opening desks on the Senate floor, and otherwise occupying themselves as if they’d just fallen off the proverbial turnip truck. In the immortal words of Randy Newman, “They’re rednecks. Don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground.”

I was relieved that nobody relieved themselves as they ransacked offices. I halfway expected one of them to take a shit in Speaker Pelosi’s office. That would have given an entirely new meaning to the term news dump. Gross but true.

I used that scatological analogy because the whole day was disgusting and sickening. From the rioters to the president* and his sycophants who incited them it was a shitty day for America. It exposed the stupidity and short-sightedness of the Trumpers and their dear leader. Anyone with a lick of sense knows that the Kaiser of Chaos and his political henchmen are lying about electoral fraud. Of course, the participants in the Dipshit Uprising probably think that lick of sense is part of Ivanka’s fragrance line…

Where do we go from here? I may have derided the idea of an instant impeachment or last minute 25th Amendment invocation the other day, but after the white riot a legal way to remove President* Pennywise from office is imperative. Pence seems to have taken charge after his rupture with his boss, but an informal ouster isn’t good enough. Lawlessness should be combatted by the rule of law.

No one should praise Pence or Moscow Mitch for their realization that the Kaiser of Chaos is a monster. The headline of a thumbsucker by the WaPo’s Ashley Parker sums it up neatly:

Pence and McConnell defy Trump — after years of subservience

There’s a special place in hell for those who have enabled this evil fucker in his lies and crimes against the public good. The names of Josh Hawley, Ted Cruz, and all those who voted to challenge the Arizona results should never be forgotten including the Gret Stet contingent of Senator John Neely Kennedy and Congressmen Scalise, Higgins, and Johnson. They can all go fuck themselves.

It’s time for the MSM to stop calling the Trumpist wing of the GOP conservative. They’re not conservatives, they’re rightist radicals who have brought shame on themselves and their party. All to assuage the ego of a petulant and mentally ill criminal. They can all go fuck themselves.

The last word goes to Frank Zappa and the Mothers:

Blue Sky

I planned ahead for this post, even dropping a hint on the tweeter tube:

And the winner is Blue Sky since Warnock and Ossoff won their races. The alternative was a song that, along with Louie Louie, I used to request at every rock concert I attended in my wayward youth: Whipping Post.

David Perdue and Kelly Loeffler must feel like they’re tied to the Whipping Post this morning. They should have won their races, especially Perdue who is well-known in the Peach State and has won elections before. Loeffler is an awful person who ran a terrible campaign. For some reason, Gov. Kemp thought she’d be a formidable candidate partially because she was a semi-moderate GOPer before selling her soul to Trump. She should demand a refund instead of a recount.

This tweet from the former Republican strategist who ran Mitt Romney’s 2012 campaign nails Loeffler to the Whipping Post:

I never thought I’d post anything by Matt Drudge, but this made me laugh:

Jon Ossoff had the tougher task this time around, but Reverend Doctor Senator Raphael Warnock has to run again in 2022. The good news is that Stacey Abrams is gearing up for a grudge rematch against Brian Kemp, which will boost Warnock’s chances. It was a bad year for Kemp: he tried his best to please the Impeached Insult Comedian but wound up on the latter’s shit list for refusing to risk going to jail for him. That makes him a slacker Trumper much like Vice President Pence or former AG Bill Barr.

Warnock ran ahead of his Democratic colleague all night for a variety of reasons: Loeffler’s attack on his church, wealthy black Republican ticket splitters, and the overall awfulness and fakery of the wealthiest woman in the US Senate. Make that wealthiest short-term senator. I wonder if she still plans to posture and pose at the fakakta election challenge mishigas event later today. Stay tuned.

As always, I watched the returns on MSNBC. In large part to watch the antics of Steve Kornacki who never sits down and seems to have the bladder of a camel. I’m glad they turned Kornacki’s producer Adam into a character last night, so it doesn’t look like Steve is a lunatic talking to himself.

This Kornacki-related tweet by TV writer and former New Orleanian Matt Brennan was one of the winners of the evening:

Since I’m talking Kornacki and posting tweets, here’s another one from little old me:

I admit to having a case of the heebie jeebies when Perdue led by over 100K votes. By the time I went to sleep it was clear that Ossoff would eke out a win. His current lead is bigger than Biden’s margin, which was good enough to win. I should have calmed myself by remembering the election nights in which New Orleans’ votes were out and Mary Landrieu narrowly trailed her Republican opponent before winning.

Since this post has degenerated into a tweet fest, here’s one for and from the history books:

Jon Ossoff became the first Jewish senator from the Peach State and RDS Warnock became the first black Southern senator to enter the senate via election since Reconstruction. South Carolina’s Tim Scott was appointed before winning his seat; something Kelly Loeffler tried and failed to do. Heh, heh, heh. Democratic Senate, baby.

The spirit of John Lewis pervaded election night:

It was a long night and it’s going to be a long day of yelling at Josh Hawley, Ted Cruz, and John Neely Kennedy as they suck up to the Sore Loser In Chief. Like yesterday, it will turn out to be a good day for democracy when this preposterous and futile challenge fails.

The last word is obvious. It goes to the Allman Brothers Band:

The Cracked Crystal Ball

I’m not sure if you can hang up a crystal ball but if you can, I did so after getting the 2016 election wrong. I tried to stay out of the election prediction biz, but I backslid this year by hoping for a repeat of the 1980 election in reverse. At least I got the presidential election outcome right, but it was a substantial Biden win instead of a landslide and a minor disaster in House and Senate races.

That was a long-winded way of saying I have no idea who will win the double-barreled Georgia Senate run-off today. I know who I’m pulling for: Jon Ossoff and Raphael Warnock. As to the outcome, I will be avidly watching the returns but do not pretend to know who will win. I wouldn’t predict it even if I were an expert on Peach State politics, which I am not.

At least I know who I’m rooting for. The Impeached Insult Comedian isn’t quite sure. His rally last night was yet another celebration of grievances and himself. He barely mentioned Perdue and Loeffler even though both have placed their souls into a blind trust controlled by him. Trump spent more time bashing Georgians Brian Kemp and Raffi than praising the plutocratic Senators he was supposedly there to support. Thanks, Donald.

In normal times, the two Georgia GOPers would triumph in the run-off. The open primary system is designed to help Republicans and harm Democrats, especially Black Democrats. Low turnout is the goal. But Ossoff and Warnock have been something of a dream team. The combination of the young Jewish guy who worked for John Lewis and the pastor of Ebenezer Baptist Church has proved to be a formidable one. Every time the media mentions where Warnock does his pastoring, they mention Martin Luther King Jr. Talk about a win-win situation.

Then there’s the Abrams factor. The only person with a bigger grudge against Brian Kemp and Raffi than President* Pennywise is Stacey Abrams. Since her narrow defeat in the voter suppression rich 2018 governor’s race, she’s been organizing the hell out of the Peach State. It paid off for Joe Biden in November and, hopefully, will help Ossoff and Warnock win today.

The likely 2022 grudge rematch between Kemp and Abrams is apt to be the most exciting Governor’s race since Edwards-Vitter in the Gret Stet of Louisiana back in 2015. Stay tuned.

Texas Congressman Chip Roy weighed in on the Georgia runoff last night:

Rep. Chip Roy (R-TX) suggested Monday night that there would be dire consequences if GOP incumbents Sens. Kelly Loeffler (R-GA) and David Perdue (R-GA) lose the Georgia Senate runoffs on Tuesday, which would give Democrats control of the chamber.

“What happens tomorrow in Georgia…if we have a Democratically controlled Senate, we’re now basically at full-scale hot conflict in this country,” Roy told Fox News host Tucker Carlson. “Whereas right now we’re in a cold civil war.”

A Texas expression comes to mind. In fact, I memed it back in 2018 when Trump went to Texas to campaign for Ted Cruz:

Talk is cheap, especially threats of violence. Remember all the blood that was supposed to flow if Trump lost? There have been some droplets but no buckets. I’m not expecting any on Twelfth Night. Uh oh, that sounded like a prediction. So much for the cracked crystal ball.

The last word goes to the Toasters and Van Morrison with variations on the same theme:

The Strangest Bedfellow Of All

Alarm bells went off about attempted Trumper monkeyshines at the Pentagon when the WaPo published an op-ed signed by all ten living former Defense Secretaries. Things got even stranger when I read who got the ball rolling:

William Perry, of course, was Bill Clinton’s first term Pentagon honcho. The big news is that Dick Cheney initiated the op-ed, which is a clarion call against military involvement in politics.

That’s right, Dick Fucking Cheney.

The man who made himself Veep.

The man who enjoys being compared to Darth Vader.

The man who got us into the Iraq War.

The man who’s known for saying the craziest things in the flattest monotone.

The man who shot a friend in a hunting accident and tried to lie his way out of it.

To the best of my recollection, I’ve never agreed with Dick Cheney on anything before. He may be the hawk’s hawk, but he believes in the peaceful transfer of power. This is a weird moment, but it should be savored.

Dick Cheney: The Strangest Bedfellow Of All.

Now that I’ve kinda sorta praised Dick Cheney it’s time to bury him with a last word by James McMurtry:

Another Perfect Phone Call

I listened to the latest perfect phone call. It’s an hour of my life I’ll never reclaim. Instead of filing it in a dead letter file where it belongs, I have a few thoughts about it and the entire fakakata election challenge mishigas. You know it’s bad when I go double Yiddish. Oy just oy.

Trump started out by throwing statistics at Raffi and his mouthpiece, Ryan. (Raffi & Ryan sounds like the title of a local kids show.) It’s a pity that none of them were true. My personal favorite was the idea that 5000 dead people voted. Raffi said it was two. Both voted for Trump.

While delusional on the facts, the Impeached Insult Comedian didn’t sound as crazy as he often does on the stump. The bloodthirsty crowds bring out his inner lunatic. Instead, it was a sales pitch. The hard sell. It didn’t work because Raffi and Ryan are unwilling to go to jail for Trump.

The latest perfect phone call may well violate state and federal law. I’ll leave the amateur/back seat lawyering to others. The recording was an exercise in evidence preservation by Raffi and Ryan. The WaPo was attacked for the 4-minute excerpt they originally posted, so they released the entire fakakta recording thereby robbing me of 62 minutes of my life.

As always, there was a lot of nonsense about the latest perfect call on social media. Some called Trump’s Georgia GOP adversaries heroic, which is almost as delusional as the Kaiser of Chaos himself.  Repeat after me: They do not want to go to jail for the mad king. Raffi and Brian Kemp are both associated with voter suppression efforts, but they’re licked and they know it.

The entire fakakata election challenge mishigas is an exercise in futility. Let me count the ways:

  •  It failed in the courts a grand total of 60 times. Some of the filings by Trump’s legal team were not even spellchecked. Judges hate typos.
  •  The congressional challenge is doomed to fail. It should be deplored and denounced but it should not be overdramatized. Repeat after me: It’s sycophancy, not sedition. Such a challenge is allowed by the constitution and an 1882 law, which makes it legal but unwise. It’s fueled by 2 guys who want to be president so badly that they misplaced their law degrees. Even fellow wingnut presidential aspirant Tom Cotton thinks this is a rotten idea. The bottom line is that they don’t have the votes to prevail.

My favorite post-phone call social media moments involved the folks who demanded President* Pennywise’s immediate removal or impeachment. Say what? The evil fucker will be gone in 16 days. There’s instant analysis and instant pudding but there’s no such thing as instant impeachment.

As to the 25th Amendment, that’s up to the executive branch. The chances that Trump’s cabinet of stooges will invoke it are slim and none. And slim just made an offer on a mansion in Florida to be close to the Kaiser of Chaos in exile.

I am constantly amazed by the endless references to the 25th Amendment. The emergency removal provisions were an afterthought, which is why they’re so hard to invoke, even harder than impeachment. The Amendment’s primary purpose was to prevent a vacancy in the vice presidency, which has happened 16 times totaling 38 years. 19th Century Veeps had a habit of dying in office: It happened 8 times. And John C. Calhoun resigned and went home to the Palmetto State.

The fakakata election challenge mishigas is doomed to fail. The Twelfth Night challenge does not have the votes. It’s a clear loser in the House and Senate Dems only need 3 Republican votes for it to fail there. It’s an outlier and a freak show just like the entire fakakta Trump presidency*. It should be treated with disdain and disgust. Instead, let’s focus on tomorrow’s Senate run-off in which the Democrats have a chance of winning both seats. Go Team Blue.

Since President* Pennywise is Georgia bound today, the last word goes to the Allman Brothers Band with a song that is not on Eat A Peach:

 

Quote Of The Day: Dave Barry Edition

I don’t know about you, but I look forward to Dave Barry’s Year In Review every year. Many shitty things have been said about this crappy year, but I think Dave says it best:

We’re trying to think of something nice to say about 2020.

Okay, here goes: Nobody got killed by the murder hornets. As far as we know.

That’s pretty much it.

In the past, writing these annual reviews, we have said harsh things about previous years. We owe those years an apology. Compared to 2020, all previous years, even the Disco Era, were the golden age of human existence.

This was a year of nonstop awfulness, a year when we kept saying it couldn’t possibly get worse, and it always did. This was a year in which our only moments of genuine, unadulterated happiness were when we were able to buy toilet paper.

Which is fitting, because 2020 was one long, howling, Category 5 crapstorm.

It’s hard to argue that point. Besides, why would I argue with a writer from whom I’ve stolen a signature line: I am not making this up. I only steal from the best.

Dave’s catch phrase has come in handy during the gobsmacking Trump era when bizarre news has become the norm. The good news is that there are only 20 days to go until we replace the weird guy with even weirder hair with Joe Normal. Tick tock motherfuckers.

I’m on the record as disliking New Year’s Eve for its false jollity, joviality, and other J words. This year I’m looking forward to the end result. 2021 cannot possibly be worse than 2020. I hope it’s even worse for the Impeached Insult Comedian. I hope he’s indicted for one of his many crimes next year. That, in and of itself, will make 2021 a better year.

2020 can go fuck itself.

Let’s end on a hopeful note with a Kinks Klassic:

The Tabloid President*

Image by Michael F

I love using Michael F’s images but I’ve never used one so close in time to its debut. The tabloid baby image was born on Christmas Eve. It’s still in diapers so handle it with care.

The last week has shown yet again the Impeached Insult Comedian’s insatiable need to be the center of attention at all times. It’s the only explanation for his bizarre and belated intervention into the COVID relief bill. His treasury secretary was in the middle of the negotiations and was presumed to speak for the president*. Trump is a moody bastard, so he decided on a whim that the $600 check was not enough. I wish it was because he wanted to help people, but we know better. He wanted the attention.

That’s the key to Donald Trump: he wants the attention. That’s why he did The Apprentice. He wanted the attention and needed the money. It’s what happens when a millionaire lives la vita billionaire.  That stint on reality teevee gave him an image as a shrewd and savvy tycoon. It was, of course, phony but everything about him is phony except his incessant need for attention.

Calling him the reality show president* is accurate but everybody does it. I prefer to venture where fools fear to tread. That’s why I’m calling Trump the tabloid president*. He came to public attention in the 1980’s when there was a newspaper war in NYC between two tabloids who thrived on celebrity gossip: The Daily News and The Post. It was a perfect set-up for a guy who was willing to leak stories about himself to the media. It’s how a mouthy real estate developer with bad hair became a celebrity.

By the 2016 campaign, Trump was able to plant crazy stories about his GOP opponents in The National Enquirer. Who among us can forget these classics?

I never get tired of those covers.

Trump brought the tabloid mentality to national politics. All publicity is good publicity, especially if it brings you the attention that you crave. Trump’s tabloid mentality should have given him thick skin, but he craves attention’s first cousin: love. Denying people benefits is a funny way of receiving love but the Kaiser of Chaos is a funny little man.

Speaking of tabloids, Trump’s pals at the New York Post finally told him to knock it off and accept his defeat. Here’s the money quote:

“If you insist on spending your final days in office threatening to burn it all down, that will be how you are remembered. Not as a revolutionary, but as the anarchist holding the match.”

You say anarchist, I say arsonist. Let’s call the whole thing off. Literally, not figuratively.

The countdown continues:

 

All About Christmas Eve Pardons

Young crooks: Paul Manafort and Roger Stone.

A major wave of corrupt pardons by the crooked president* came last night on Christmas Eve Eve. There may be more to come on Christmas Eve itself. In All About Eve, Margot Channing warned us that we were in for “a bumpy night.” Who am I to argue with a Bette Davis character? Remember when Bette served Joan Crawford a rat in Whatever Happened To Baby Jane? Those broads played rough…

It’s time for another Life Imitates The Sopranos moment. Santa Donald has spent the week bestowing gifts on the grifters who refused to rat him out. A reminder that playing St. Nick can be dangerous. The two Sopranos characters who played Santa at the Pork Store Christmas party were wacked: Big Pussy and Bobby Bacala. Not a happy precedent for Paulie and Roger.

I have New Jersey on my mind because of the pardon of Jared Kushner’s father, Charles. That sleazy real estate developer was successfully prosecuted by Chris Christie who used his fame as a portly prosecutor as a springboard to the Governorship. Slumlord Jared still nurses a grudge against former Gov. Asshole who must be fuming right now.

The Impeached Insult Comedian clearly thinks pardoning his Kremlingate cronies is a clever move. I wouldn’t be so sure of that, Donald.

Here’s what former Mueller man and Manafort prosecutor Andrew Weismann said about it on Twitter:

Who’s next? Steve Bannon knows where the early skeletons are buried. He’s one possibility as is Rudy and the odd Trump family member. A reminder that Trump will only pardon relatives if they have something on him. He won’t do it out of love or loyalty. He doesn’t know the meaning of either word. The only love he’s capable of is self-love

Speaking of Who’s Next, I think the Who album cover sums up the situation: Trump and his enablers are peeing on the national obelisk instead of leading. It’s not a good Bargain for the American people:

A quote from a recent Vanity Fair interview with former Trump fixer Michael Cohen comes to mind right now:

“Hand them a shit pie so gross they will choke on it.”

It’s what they given the country, after all. Turnabout strikes me as fair play.

Finally, a few thoughts for those folks who believe that a Trumpist coup is a possibility instead of a fever dream. A leader who is planning a golpe de estado to keep himself in office never leaves the capital. (When Gorbachev left Moscow in the summer of 1991, that’s when the Soviet dead enders struck.) Why did Trump go to Florida if he wants to declare martial law? There’s no plan. There’s never a plan with this guy.

One of the worst things about the Trump era is how conspiratorial thinking has spread across the political spectrum. I hope the trend dissipates after he’s gone, but some usually sensible people on the left have been spouting nonsense about pocket vetoes leading to what Latin Americans call an “auto-golpe.” That’s a coup intended to keep a leader in power. They know about coups in South America. Americans don’t know shit about coups, and it shows every time people mutter about them online and elsewhere. Leave the conspiracy theories to QAnon and Alex Jones, y’all. Please.

The last word goes to Southern Culture On The Skids with a countrypolitan classic whose full title is (I Beg Your Pardon) I Never Promised You A Rose Garden:

Rumor has it that shit pies make excellent fertilizer. I wouldn’t know first-hand: plants die if I so much as look at them.

I’m Still Dreaming Of A Slow News Day

I’ve recycled post titles before but never so close in time to the first one, which was just Monday. At least the original is a good one: it made the Best of Adrastos 2020, which will land on Saturday morning. Holy shameless promotion, Batman.

I don’t think I’ve ever quoted Axios aka Son of Politico before but they have great sources in Trumpistan:

Advisers to President Trump tell Axios three forces drove last night’s twin bombshells — a slew of pardons for his allies and a last-hour attack on the $900 billion stimulus bill as a “disgrace.”

1. Because he can: As Jonathan Swan has explained, Trump loves pardons for the same reason he relishes executive orders — pure power and instant gratification. A longtime Trump official says that pardons are uniquely satisfying to Trump because he can overturn the work of another branch of government, the judiciary.

2. He wants attention: As the nation moves on from the election and President-elect Biden names a Cabinet and addresses the nation, Trump — mostly out of sight for the past seven weeks — “sees Biden being relevant every day,” one presidential adviser said. That helps explain the video Trump tweeted 14 minutes after announcing the pardons, calling on Congress to increase “ridiculously low” stimulus checks from $600 for an individual to $2,000.

3. It splits the party: Trump wants the Republican Party to remain beholden to him, and is desperate to retain his GOP power past Jan. 20. Top Republicans are increasingly queasy about the two runoffs in Georgia on Jan. 5 that will determine which party controls the Senate. Last night’s White House actions undermine the GOP Senate candidates by fomenting turmoil and distraction, and robbing the senators of a clear win on the stimulus.

We already knew that President* Pennywise loves throwing shit against the wall and seeing how much of it sticks. That’s why I call him the Kaiser of Chaos.

We already knew that he loves attention, even the wrong sort of attention. He’s not only the Kaiser of Chaos, he’s the Monarch of the Tabloids. It’s a world in which any attention is preferable to no attention. It’s crazy but so is Donald J Trump.

It’s sick to issue pardons to remain relevant. The worst of the bunch are the ones granted to the Blackwater thugs who committed atrocities against Iraqi civilians. Why do Trumpers think this sort of shit is okay? It’s why the Impeached Insult Comedian has so little support in the military other than the lunatic retired General he pardoned. So much for their golpe de estado fantasias.

Speaking of crazy, imagine wanting to divide one’s own party to keep control of it. That’s not only nutty, it’s stupid. Of course, Trump specializes in nutty and stupid.

As to the crooked Republican politicians pardoned, two of them, Steve Stockman and Duncan Hunter are past malakas of the week. The only mystery is how I missed Chris Collins who was the first House GOPer to endorse the Current Occupant.

January 20th cannot come soon enough. We’re all tired of this reality show acting, tabloid headline hunting motherfucker who only wants to stay in office to avoid prosecution. There’s a special place in hell reserved for his enablers.

I’m Dreaming Of A Slow News Day

I woke up with White Christmas in my head. I suspect you’ve heard of it. #sarcasm. It’s a Christmas song written by a Jewish guy and popularized by an Irish Catholic guy. The overwhelming popularity of the song always struck me as a bit odd since I’ve never lived in a place where a White Christmas is a likelihood. Hell, neither did Der Bingle: he lived not far from where I grew up.

This year, I’m dreaming of a slow news day just like the ones we used to know. Remember when presidents took a vacation during the holidays? That’s my dream: Reagan on his ranch, Poppy Bush in Maine, Obama in Hawaii. Unlike the Current Occupant, they knew the perils of overexposure.

American used to focus on the holidays on the Monday before Christmas. In 2020, the Impeached Insult Comedian is still working overtime to own the libs. Why not? It’s so easy. The whole Michael Flynn-Martial Law leak is classic Trump: blow smoke and sow seeds of confusion about something that is impossible. Repeat after me: IMPOSSIBLE.

I certainly believe that Flynn is capable of such an utterance, but he was pandering to the guy who pardoned him. Martial law isn’t a thing that can just be declared without planning and preparation. When did the Kaiser of Chaos ever plan anything? Martial law isn’t even an American thing: there’s no specific provision for it in either the constitution or federal law.

A reminder that the Joint Chiefs of Staff declared themselves out of politics before the election. You can’t have marital law or a coup without the military. The brass hate Trump. They’d rather have an asterisk-free president who doesn’t call veterans “losers and suckers.” I understand that there’s one available.

I have other dreams this chilly, not snowy New Orleans morning.

I dream that people will stop misusing words like coup, sedition, and treason. Things are bad enough without overdramatizing everything.

I dream that my social media feeds will not be clogged with people who hate authoritarianism so much that they want to throw everyone in jail. Proof positive that irony isn’t dead.

I dream that people will stop lamenting the hardship of a socially distant holiday season and focus on 2021 when the holiday season will be back to semi-normal. Life is hard enough without relentless kvetching. Repeat after me: Better stir crazy than dead.

I dream that we can go a week without thinking of the sitting president because he’s a normal guy, not a sociopath. I understand that there’s one available.

Living in interesting times is overrated. I’m dreaming of a slow news day just like the ones we used to know.

The last word goes to the Irish Catholic guy who popularized White Christmas:

Saturday Odds & Sods: Forbidden Fruit

Photograph by Andre Kertesz.

The weather has been god awful in New Orleans most of the week. Cold, cloudy, and gloomy. It’s enough to make me mutter “Bah Humbug” under my breath as I write this. I also envy Claire Trevor her fur coat and ability to lie close to the space heater without catching on fire. One of our former cats, Window, singed her whiskers on an old-fashioned wall space heater in our old place on Pine Street. So it goes.

I’ve been listening to The Band a lot the last few weeks. Just call me a throwback music buff. Robbie Robertson wrote this week’s theme song for The Band’s 1975 album Northern Lights Southern Cross. The album remains overlooked and underrated; I’ve always liked it, especially this song. It’s a perfect album opener and a fine Odds & Sods theme song.

We have two versions of Forbidden Fruit for your listening pleasure: the studio original and the Band live in 1976.

Now that we’ve tasted the forbidden fruit and been banned from the garden of eden, we might as well jump to the break.

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