I hope everyone had a festive and gluttonous Thanksgiving. We had a double header: first in Red Stick with the surviving outlaw, then in the evening with our friends Will and Jennifer. Will is the King Cake Baron of New Orleans. I just wanted to prove that I don’t hate *all* royals, certainly not those that may involve royal icing. I’m not sure if that joke made any sense but when did that ever stop me?
This week’s theme song was written in 1966 by Tom King and Chad Kelly in 1965 for their band, The Outsiders. It was a big hit, reaching #5 on the Billboard charts.
We have three versions of Time Won’t Let Me for your listening pleasure: The Outsiders original, a 1981 version by Iggy Pop, and a 1994 version recorded by The Smithereens for use in the movie Timecop.
Time for another timely tune; hopefully time *will* let me post it:
I need a mental health break from writing about the bottomless pit of Trump scandals until next week. Hell, the country needs a mental health break from thinking about them. That’s why I decided to do a bit of storytelling. The world needs more tall tales even if they’re about short people in small houses. No hobbits were harmed in the writing of this post.
The post title is inspired by the comedy album Waiting For The Electrician Or Someone Like Him. It was the debut album by hippie Dadaists, The Firesign Theatre. The album cover is above and if you click on this link, you can hear the whole damn thing. It’s electrifying.
At long last we begin our story:
We had electrical problems a few weeks ago. One of my Spank krewe mates is a crack electrician so he came over to solve the problem, which turned out not to be as bad as feared. While I waited for him, I began a tweet with the line “Waiting for the Spank electrician.” One of my faithful readers and twitter pals, Al Dunn, said it was the line of the day that day. I decided to see if lightning would strike again at First Draft.
While the Spank electrician worked on our circuit breaker box, I regaled him with stories of our former across the street neighbor, the Polish Electrician. I’ll call him PE for short, which works because the Spank electrician goes by TS. I’m also acronym-ing him because the story I’m telling is strictly from memory, so I changed the names to protect the innocent, not me. I am rarely, if ever, innocent.
We moved into our house in the 13th Ward in August of 2000. In that pre-gentrification era, one encountered the neighbors almost immediately. One of the first neighbors we met was PE’s charming wife Miss V (hereinafter MV) followed in short order by her equally charming husband, PE.
The couple lived across the street in the smallest house on the block. It was a perfect fit because they’re both petite people. As Dr. A liked to say it was “a sweet little house just right for sweet little people.”
They’re both immigrants: MV is Mexican and PE is Polish. They mostly spoke to one another so their mutual accent in English was a mélange of Mexican and Polish. It was simultaneously endearing and hilarious. I’m uncertain whether I should call their patois Mexi-Pole or Pole-Mex. Probably the former, the latter sounds too much like poleaxe. Mexi-Pole it is.
PE’s New Orleans origin story is an interesting one. It happened during the Cold War. He was then a sailor, hey. He was in port, jumped ship, and defected. In those days, we encouraged skilled workers to come to America and defect from Communist countries. It was long before Tucker Carlson bragged about rooting for Russia. Nobody rooted for Russia then, especially not Poles. Lech Walesa weeps.
PE moved into one side of a double occupied by Polish sailors. The other side was essentially a crack house. It was converted into a single-family home at the end of the previous century. We live there now, unaccompanied by Polish sailors or crack dealers. As recently as 2010, we received mail for one of the crackheads, usually overdue bills or parking tickets. We tried returning them to sender, but they kept bouncing back to us, so we gave up. It’s what I get for taking advice from an Elvis song.
PE could fix anything. In addition to being a skilled electrician, he was a licensed HVAC tech. It was great having a neighbor who would come over at a moment’s notice to help and at family rates no less. It’s hard not to miss a neighbor like that.
A few years after Katrina and the Federal Flood, PE and MV moved. It was a sad day on our block. I miss chatting with them in their Mexi-Pole accents. It was always an adventure. They left behind a legacy of kindness and neighborliness as well as a good story. It was time to share it with my readers.
I gave myself a pair of earworms as I wrote this so the last word goes to Yes and Bob Weir:
My Now Be Thankful holiday piece is about loss and renewal. It got me thinking of the dynamic duo of Oscar and Della Street who were together from 2007 to 2017. I still miss these two even if the tuxedo cat always had a bad attitude.
Continuing from last week, work’s been super busy (long story), enough to keep me from following the news cycle as much as usually do. It happens.
Still, I made an effort to keep an eye out, and…it was another shitty week for DJT.
Even in the confines of a “cozy interview” with fellow dirt bag Billo, Trump was explaining and backpedaling, and like they say, in politics, when you’re explaining, you’re losing.
As urban commie pinkos, we here at First Draft believe in recycling. This post is a rerun from last Thanksgiving with some lagniappe at the end:
If your crazy right-wing Uncle who watches too much Fox News goes off on you today, please do not re-enact this book.
How about some cheesecake for dessert?
When I promise lagniappe, I mean it. So do Martha Stewart and Snoop Dogg. This is the first time that exceedingly odd couple cooked together on teevee:
My annual Thanksgiving post, Now Be Thankful, has migrated to the Bayou Brief. I’ve tweaked it and added a tribute to a family friend, former Congresswoman Cathy Long. This version essentially tells my Louisiana origin story. I use that term loosely since I am neither super nor a hero.
Elite New Orleans loses its head over royalty, fake and otherwise. That’s why a big deal was made about a recent charity soiree at Antoine’s:
Greek royalty was welcomed to New Orleans Saturday by New Orleans Carnival royalty during an elegant dinner at Antoine’s restaurant.
Prince Pavlos and Princess Marie-Chantal of Greece were greeted with a proclamation by the reigning Rex, King of Carnival, Robert S. Boh, during the dinner, hosted by John and Dathel Georges.
The Greek monarchs were visiting to commemorate the 1953 visit of King Pavlos and Queen Frederika, Prince Pavlos’ grandparents, to New Orleans. The dinner also served as a benefit for the Prince’s Trust, which helps needy children in Greece.
A monarch is one who either reigns or rules. The Greek royals do neither. The proper term for Pavlos is pretender. The Greek royal family have not reigned since 1967 when the pretender’s father, Constantine, connived with the Colonels in a coup against the legally elected government. Constantine’s attempt at a counter-coup failed and he was sent into exile.
This Greek-American is a small r republican when it comes to my ancestral homeland. It’s in the blood: I’m distantly related to President Eleftherios Venizelos who was instrumental in abolishing the monarchy in 1924. It returned in 1935 as the hand maiden of military dictatorship. I will, however, give them credit for not collaborating when the Nazis conquered Greece. They went into exile instead. They’re good at going into exile.
The monarchy was formally abolished by referendum after the fall of the junta in 1974. Even most Greek conservatives excoriated the royals at that time. Deposed King Constantine was in exile until 2013. The chances of a restoration are slim and none.
I originally planned to write a funny piece mocking two fake royals: Rex and the Greek pretender. When I reminded myself of the bloody anti-democratic history of the Greek monarchy that became impossible. I’m glad that money was raised for a good cause but pumping up the ego of the Greek pretender in the press is creepy.
The host of the event was vending machine and media mogul John Georges. He’s the sort of Greek-American who still calls Istanbul, Constantinople. He seems to fancy himself local royalty when he’s merely a rich guy with a media megaphone. I wonder if he’s hoping to become a fake count or phony duke some day that will never come.
I’ll take the honest fake royalty (if such a thing is possible) of Rex over the pretensions of a pretender any day. Besides, the family name is Glucksberg. Does that sound Greek to you?
I’ve never repeated a post in this space before. It struck me that this post from May 16, 2018 perfect for the day before the most gluttonous day on the calendar. Besides, I’m feeling lazy:
These are dark days because of you know who doing you know what. It calls for comic relief that has bupkis to do with politics. I went in search of comic relief and found some goofy food oriented album covers at a “food culture” web site, Ateriet. That’s right, the food fight theme kinda sorta continues.
Initially, I thought the covers would feature yogurt or cheese since culture was involved. Instead they involve canned goods, Hawaiian food, and a space age weenie roast. Two of the covers are from obscure to me artists and the last one is one of the worst covers from a major band that I can think of. It flat-out sucks.
We begin with a soupy cover from the jazz pianist Roy Meriwether. I’m not sure why the table is set with a knife and fork. I don’t know about you, but I usually eat soup with a spoon. Perhaps jazz soup is different somehow.
The minute I saw the Gerhard Polt album, I nearly did a spit take. It turns out that Herr Polt is a well-known Bavarian satirist, which means that my reaction to the cover was appropriate. I almost made a joke about not knowing that there were German satirists but thought better of it. What’s funnier than a head on a plate of food, after all?
Finally, Live It Up by CSN. What can I say about this cover? It looks like the Krewe of Spank’s dirty weiner drop game. I bet it was David Crosby’s idea: he’s full of them and it.
On Thursday’s Jimmy Kimmel Live!, avant-pop sensation Billie Eilish proved to the audience that she is the youngest person on earth. During an informal quiz on ‘80s pop culture references, Eilish revealed that she did not know what a Cabbage Patch Kid is. Scandal!
“Like a Sour Patch Kid?” she asked. Yes! Well, more like a Garbage Pail Kid, technically, but a Garbage Pail Kid was like a Cabbage Patch Kid. It’s a rather intricate lineage, you see.
This is such crap. Why does she have to know about toys from the 80s? I hate this. She’s a young woman, she’s supposed to be a young woman, that’s all she’s supposed to be. She’s not on your show, Kimmel, for you to humiliate her, and make her into this shareable thing so that people MY OWN GODDAMN AGE can be like “why doesn’t a tiny baby know this thing that I know that doesn’t actually mean anything.” Like what would it prove if she knew all your bullshit references?
I know Kimmel is GOOD NOW, because he talked about the time his family needed healthcare, but that’s the point. Even people who we think of as “good” manage to be horrible about this kind of thing and act like they have to be because that’s just what happens when you age. It’s not. Getting old is inevitable if you’re lucky; becoming a tool is a choice.
Like the only reason we think cultural signifiers like ’80s movies and Seinfeld lines are important is that they were important to us. Young people are not obligated to live our lives. They have their own, and by the way, Olds, we’re the ones out here going WHERE IS OLD TOWN ROAD like we don’t have an internet to look stuff up on. I just hate dragging kids into the cage and putting them through stupid gotcha-tests so that your aunt Connie can share it 25 times on Facebook with the caption I’M SO OLD. Yeah, you are. How is that Billie Eilish’s problem?
Can we not turn into our parents? If you want your kids to experience Ghostbusters then show them Ghostbusters, don’t drag the rotting corpse of your own coolness behind you like Bob Marley’s chains by bemoaning that your children don’t know the Ghostbusters by magic. Share your version of the good shit joyously, not with this resentful attitude of I CAN’T BELIEVE I HAVE TO TELL YOU WHO BATMAN IS or whatever.
And by the by, it wouldn’t murder half the people who moan at this sort of thing to listen to one new band every year or so. Jesus.
US official tells me when Sec Navy went to WH to ask POTUS to let Navy review board go forward he promised the board would in the end allow Gallagher to keep his Trident and rank. In other words he promised to fix the results of the board which is usually a board of peers.
I love everyone on Blue Ivy’s internet Zaprudering every single move Trump makes like it’s complicated. It’s not complicated. What would your racist uncle who has a Hillary nutcracker and is still mad at Jane Fonda do? That’s what Trump is doing. He’s a human e-mail forward.
Like the lib-owning thing is a joke now but that’s all that they have been for a while. A Trumper said to me once, when this kind of thing came up, that “they cut our people’s heads off so we need to teach them a lesson.” You can’t even argue with that, why … what lesson … how does it … look, even if you agree with that tell me how that lesson will be disseminated, like are you gonna send a reply-all to ISIS with the curriculum? How do you think messaging works in, like, rural Afghanistan or wherever? What is the OUTCOME here?
It only makes sense through the lens of Barcalounging chickenhawks with “tactical” grill covers whose only real combat experience is playing Call of Duty when they should be helping their kids with their homework. OTHER SERVICEMEN have said this guy is bad news, like this isn’t a liberal pussy like me saying this while I hug a tree, OTHER NAVY SEALS were like nah, bro, and yet here we are.
Who are we sucking up to with this Gallagher move? Well, it’s the comments section of the Donald subreddit, otherwise known as the comments section of every early conservative blog from 2003 onward. This is the environment that nurtured them, supported them, funded them very well and promoted their op-eds and books when one of them showed more talent than the average potato. Erickson came from this. Ben Shapiro came from this. Half the goddamn Tea Party House Reps came from this, those of the creatures that didn’t spring full-formed from the head of the Kochs. Jesus tits, they haven’t even changed that much. Michelle Malkin is the same asshole she’s always been.
People think Gamergate was the harbinger of this. It wasn’t, god Almighty, it started so much earlier than that. It was Jill Carroll, Graeme Frost, a thousand thousand others that the conservative warbloggers chewed up and spit out for no reason other than that their existence shamed the venal and incompetent. It was Pam Geller screaming that there was going to be a mosque at Ground Zero and everyone dutifully parroting her lines even as they pretended to “debunk” them, as if fact-checking was ever the point there.
So what is the point? The point is that arguing with them is pointless. Just stop thinking you’re gonna convince them Gallagher is really a war criminal, because they’re already on to the next thing, which is likely that some atheist somewhere wants a Festivus pole by the Nativity Scene or whatever. You will never convince them of anything nor NOT piss them off, so just stop it.
Vote, canvass, donate, write, fight, but mostly just ignore the ins and outs of the latest freakout your least favorite cousins are having on social media because if this is where their attention is, they’re already gone and you knew that for sure. Just change the subject.
Every once and awhile someone posts an article on social media about President* Pennywise either refusing to leave office or provoking a coup. These articles are rarely by anyone who knows anything about the military or how it operates. Would Trump applaud a coup in his favor? Absolutely. He has fantasies of himself as an absolute monarch who will establish the Trump dynasty; emphasis on the word nasty.
Was it ever likely that the military would go along with a coup? No. While many officers are conservative, they’re also hawks who have been appalled by Trump’s attacks on NATO and his cozying up to Russia. The brass seem to be divided between those who cannot stand Trump and those who believe they have a duty to refrain from all forms of politics.
In typical Trump fashion, he thinks he can buy the military’s support by increasing defense spending. Money is everything to the Insult Comedian ergo it’s everything to everyone. Wrong. They believe in honor, duty, and country whereas Trump only believes in himself.
The rule of law is what sets us apart from our adversaries. Good order and discipline is what has enabled our victory against foreign tyranny time and again, from Captain Lawrence’s famous order “Don’t Give up the Ship,” to the discipline and determination that propelled our flag to the highest point of Iwo Jima. The Constitution, and the Uniform Code of Military Justice, are the shields that set us apart, and the beacons that protect us all. Through my Title Ten Authority, I have strived to ensure our proceedings are fair, transparent and consistent, from the newest recruit to the Flag and General Officer level.
Unfortunately, it has become apparent that in this respect, I no longer share the same understanding with the Commander in Chief who appointed me, in regards to the key principle of good order and discipline. I cannot in good conscience obey an order that I believe violates the sacred oath I took in the presence of my family, my flag and my faith to support and defend the Constitution of the United States.
Spencer’s sentiments are widely shared throughout the armed forces, not just in the Navy. Trump’s interference in the military justice system is bitterly resented, especially his propensity to issue orders by tweet.
That’s not how they do business: the military is process oriented and takes a dim view of Trump’s anarchic disorderly ways. They’re not going to violate their oath to the constitution to keep the Kaiser of Chaos in power. There will be no tanks surrounding the White House on January 21, 2021.
I just saw the Coup episode of season 3 of The Crown. The broad outlines of the story are true: War hero and royal Lord Mountbatten gets involved in some preliminary coup plotting against Harold Wilson’s Labour government. After researching coups, he concluded that in a modern media saturated society such a coup could not succeed without the Queen’s support, which was not forthcoming. We don’t have a queen, just a wannabe dictator with keyboard courage and bone spurs that rendered him unfit for service.
Repeat after me: you cannot stage a coup without the military. There will be no coup.
Food tester was first rushed to hospital, and doctors believe there was exposure to time-delayed poison
An inside source says President Trump’s food taster became ill after ingesting an unnamed substance, which is why the president made a surprise hospital visit on Saturday.
The hospital visit was not listed on the president’s public schedule, according to media outlets which indicated that the visit was not a routine physical exam.
Additionally, the inside source said his food taster was rushed to the facility after becoming extremely ill.
Doctors and staff reportedly found the byproduct of a type of toxin that’s very hard to detect and has a time-delayed onset of symptoms.
The president was later taken to the same facility where a battery of tests were performed to assess whether he had ingested the same toxin.
There’s an ongoing investigation into the matter.
White House sources have confided to Alex Jones that there’s been other poisoning attempts against the president in the past. We’re going to break down this live on air while also analyzing other components of the Deep State coup.
Despite the fact that this news broke over the weekend, there’s hardly any coverage regarding the fact that the president made a very rare, unexpected visit to a medical center.
Historically, time-delayed poisons were popular with assassins due to their ability to get past food tasters and other chemical tests that are done on food before it’s eaten.
Powerful leaders were routinely drugged or poisoned throughout the ages.
The president isn’t showing any outward signs of being sick, but he was put though a battery of tests as a precaution.
We successfully launched the Falcon Heavy rocket, which is the most powerful rocket in the world by a factor of two. So that’s twice the power, twice the thrust of the next biggest rocket. And we actually launched a Tesla — my Tesla Roadster — to Mars orbit. The reason we did that is actually because, normally, when a new rocket is launched, you just put a dummy payload, which is like a block of concrete or something.
Right. Not creative in any way.
Super-boring. So we were like, okay, what is the least boring thing we can launch?
And really the problem isn’t whether Tesla is a shitty automobile or not, the problem is that civic leaders give people like Musk their time and money when, like, those are both needed elsewhere.
I take a train into the job every morning. I pick it up at a station where the staircase is crumbling and there is no elevator (so good luck if you’re using a wheelchair). There’s a small, way-too-narrow escalator that is broken and has a sign on it that says it will be broken until APRIL.
Hundreds of people use this station each day to get to work or school or friends’ houses or whatever. It’s very much too small for the volume of folks trying to get through it, it smells weird, and again, good luck if you have any limitations on your mobility at all.
Look, Elon can do whatever he wants with his money, as can every other rich asshole on the planet, but we are not obligated to indulge it when we should be fixing the escalators, making the staircases wider and easier to climb, figuring out where the smell is coming from, you know, boring public improvement shit.
I know that doesn’t sound as visionary and sexy as launching, like, a car into space or yelling CYBERTRUCK a lot, but imagine if that was the thrust of our major efforts and not indulging a man-baby in his weird dreams.
We’re only three eps in and so there’s still a lot of clunky “this is the character that I am, allow me to say aloud my most defining traits so that you may see them” dialogue, but it’s very Original Three Star Wars in that everything looks broken and messed up. Everything in Star Trek always looked like a theater company worked really hard to paint it nice; Star Wars was like three stoners realized they had a diorama due the next day and glued an answering machine to a toaster. This, despite all kinds of Disney money, is very … that.
Also I’m pretty sure it’s just The Professional with spaceships, which I’m always here for.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the impeachment hearings ate my week. It wasn’t a snack, it was a tasting menu of scandal, malakatude, and heroism. Democrats have found their mojo: I was proud of their performance in the face of Republican shouting and conspiracy theorizing. That was down to Chairman Schiff who refused to take any shit from committee GOPers. I’m less confident of the performance of Judiciary Chairman Nadler but the ball will soon be in his court. Stay tuned.
This week’s theme song was written by the late, great Pat DiNizio in 1986 for The Smithereens debut album, Especially For You. The band had been kicking around New Jersey for years before hitting the big time with this great rock song.
We have two versions of Behind The Wall Of Sleep for your listening pleasure: the original video and a 21st Century live version.
There’s a Black Sabbath song with the same title but metal is not my thing so I’ll pass.
Now that we’ve caught up on our sleep, let’s jump to the break.
I’ve been in the weeds of the impeachment hearings the last two weeks. It’s time to pause, take a deep breath, and look at the big picture.
The post title poses a rhetorical question: where do we go from here? It beats the hell outta me. Anyone who makes confident assertions or predictions is running a fool’s errand, which could be called pulling a Sondland.
As of today, the House will impeach on a party-line vote. There are some key witnesses we’d all like to hear from: Pompeo, Bolton, and Mulvaney to name a few. Slugging this out in the courts looks like a Sondland aka fool’s errand. There is a possible alternative: witnesses can be called in the Senate and it would be up to Chief Justice Roberts. Josh Marshall has more about this at TPM.
As of today, the Senate will NOT vote to remove BUT the situation is more fluid than people believe. I think there are multiple Republican Senators willing to vote FOR at least one article of impeachment. But they’ll only do it if there are enough of them: five or more. Willard Mittbot Romney is the one to watch: he’s bulletproof in Utah and not on the ballot until 2024.
The reasons for any GOP removal votes will not be elevated ones. They won’t do it out of patriotism but out of self-preservation. In short, they’ll pull a Sondland if it looks like the GOP will be slaughtered at the ballot box in 2020. I suspect the Mittbot would like to be the Brigham Young of his party if electoral disaster looms.
A quick reminder that Republicans are 24% of registered voters. They cannot win without conservative leaning independents; many of whom are sick of Trump’s antics. Repeat after me: There’s gold in them thar suburbs.
The Turtle wants to preserve his majority as well as his own seat. Right now there are three GOP seats in serious jeopardy: Maine, Arizona, and Colorado. Georgia looks promising: when there are two Senate seats up in the same election, one party tends to win both. Doug Jones in Alabama is the most vulnerable Democrat by far but the prospect of a GOP donnybrook gives him a chance to hang on. Roy Moore, Jeff Sessions, and Donald Trump may give him a path to victory.
One overlooked possibility is Senate GOPers pressuring Trump to make up some cockamamie story and resign. It would have to be coupled with a threat of removal votes but it would serve their interests to get Trump to quit. Some say this is impossible: I disagree. Trump changes his mind on a daily basis about purt near everything.
I am opposed to impeaching Pence alongside Trump. He may deserve it but we should want someone tied to the Trump scandals to be the Republican nominee in 2020. Acting president Pelosi would only fuel GOP “coup” talk. It’s why Carl Albert wanted Jerry Ford confirmed quickly in 1974.
I have no idea which, if any, of these theories will play out in real life. One thing I know for sure is that the Insult Comedian’s fatal inability to STFU will continue to make things worse. Thanks, Donald
Another day, another hearing. It was a doozy. It’s time for another round of time delayed live blogging, instant analysis or whatever the hell you want to call it.
—> Fiona Hill and David Holmes were a breath of fresh air after the smug, smarmy, and sleazy Sondland. I don’t think Sean Patrick Maloney will feel the need to administer an Irish barracking to these two. If he did, I’m sure Hill could kick his ass.
—> Devin Nunes pitched a mini-tantrum over Hill’s critique of the Republicans insistence that Ukraine fucked with the 2016 campaign, not Russia. He thumped his report on the table and insisted that it be included in the record. It was but it’s still a tissue of lies.
—> Fiona Hill is formidable and fierce. Her piercing intelligence and deep subject matter knowledge is as impressive as hell. I was touched by her account of how she came to America from the North of England. She has kept her working class Northern accent, which would have been a hindrance in the UK but not here. Don’t mess with a coal miner’s daughter even if her name isn’t Loretta Lynn and her accent is Northern, not Southern.
—> David Holmes is equally impressive. As a serving foreign service officer, he took a risk by coming forward. His first hand experiences with Sondland and Giuliani caused him to testify. I hope he doesn’t suffer retribution. I’m not sure what the foreign service hell post is; in J Edgar Hoover time at the FBI, he banished errant agent to Butte, Montana. Some may have even become dental floss tycoons.
—> The lanky and fair Holmes and the dark and raven haired Hill looked striking together. I know that’s superficial but so is teevee. There was no banter between the witnesses. Dr. Hill is all business.
—>Casting Update: Michelle Dockery as Fiona Hill and Mark Evan Jackson as David Holmes. The latter plays Shawn the head demon on The Good Place. I guess Holmes is his good twin.
I like casting Lady Mary from Downton Abbey against class type, she does fierce well.
—> Castor Oil dispensed. I think the witnesses found it as unpalatable as I do. Castor has only one facial expression: a frown and a furrowed brow.
—> A reminder that Hill is a Russia hawk who thinks highly of Bolton. She does not have a high opinion of the Hotelier who bragged about his ties to Trump to her. Bragging is big with Trump regime types. Hill was vexed with Sondland for being slippery with her. Imagine that.
—> Nunes had a cow over dealing with witnesses so much smarter than he is. That describes all the witnesses with the exception of Sondland. I was proud of the fierce Dr Hill for not laying the rank ranking member low. Me, I would have asked him about his relationship with Lev Parnas. Eric Swalwell went there later in the hearing. Thanks, dude.
—> Hill disputed Morrison’s comments about Vindman having “suspect judgment.” Her only concern was about his political instincts. The very tall guy got it wrong.
—>Jordan Time: Holmes rolled his eyes and smirked at the unhinged and unjacketed one. Who the hell can blame him? He’s trying to disguise his contempt as Jordan yelled at him and kept interrupting him.
Jordan pissed that Holmes is the “closing witness.” Are you so sure of that, Gym?
—> Nutmeg state Democrat Jim Himes encouraged Hill to debunk the Ukraine conspiracy theory. What the hell does she know? She’s only an expert.
—> Hill established her bona fides as a non-never Trumper by saying a couple of semi-nice things about the Insult Comedian. I still like her.
—>Ratcliffe Time: Thank God this bozo isn’t director of national intelligence. He lacks the latter. He’s as loud as Gym Jordan in a Texas nitwit kinda way. Ratcliffe is shocked that Trump’s conversation bounces around and makes little sense.
—> MORE REPUBLICAN SHOUTING. They seem to think it makes them sound well-hung or some such shit.
—> Ohio GOPer Mike Turner patronized Hill. She almost looked angry, especially as he didn’t let her speak. What the hell does she know? She’s just an expert. Women should be seen and not heard according to this Buckeye Bozo.
—> NO COLLUSION. NO COLLUSION. NO COLLUSION.
—> Hill insisted on being allowed to speak after endless GOP speeches. She’s a fact witness, not a Sondland-esque political hack. In fact, he gives hackery a bad name.
—> WHISTLEBLOWER. WHISTLEBLOWER. WHISTLEBLOWER.
—> WORD SALAD. WORD SALAD. WORD SALAD.
—> Holmes is indiscreet, not Sondland? Who spoke on an unsecured cell phone in a public place? Oy just oy.
—> Nunes’ closing statement made no sense. Schiff’s did. Anyone surprised? I thought not.
It was another good day for House Democrats. It helps when you have the facts on your side and excellent witnesses such as Fiona Hill and David Holmes.
Finally, two songs in honor of rock star witness Fiona Hill. The last word goes to Lyle Lovett and Pete Townshend.
So..the debate? Nah, didn’t watch. Besides, the Democrats could nominate an empty podium at this point and I’d vote for it, lesser of evils and all that…
And, will spare the details, but it’s been a distracting week for me otherwise, and my usual habit/hobby of paying attention was limited by…work.
That said, and with the hope that I’ll never devolve into an actual low-information voter, I feel like my perspective was a little more, I dunno, similar to someone who might only catch a bit of news now and again.
If Richard Nixon was the dark side of the American Spirit, Trump is the tawdry, cheap, clown veneer. He’s dictator chic, reality television, and PT Barnum minus the charm or intrigue…Dick Nixon as a warped, old, fat-Elvis impersonator, a greedy liar who’d stomp your fingers for a Rex doubloon, and the worst bead hog at Mardi Gras…someone who thinks a neckful of gaudy plastic implies elevated status.
Not even Las Vegas. More like Atlantic City, if not Biloxi.
His associates are equally skeevy. Lev, Konstatin, Igor…Rudy Buttdial.
And while that very cheapness might motivate his rally goers, I think the rest of the country still has just enough basic decency, if not self-respect, to realize how much of a mistake 2016 was.
Trump, not that I much like it, will go down in history — he’s on the list of presidents (hang my head in shame). But it doesn’t mean he deserves a legacy in stone.
And, good lord, I don’t even want to think of how chintzy a DJT library’s going to be…
