Trumpvention Finale: 76 Minutes of Fear & Hate

Hopefully, you’ve noticed that satire is my specialty. I think that humor is the best way to respond to even the worst situation. But I’m not feeling funny ha-ha after Donald Trump’s 76 minute diatribe. It was a speech that lasted longer than his second marriage and was twice as loud. I felt like I needed ear plugs during Trump’s harangue. I guess I’ve recovered my sense of humor but I feel like I’ve been battered after listening to Trump’s endless acceptance speech.

I am obviously biased: I hate Donald Trump and am appalled that this sociopath has won a major party nomination. Following Trump closely has led me to modify my belief in Godwin’s Law. Here’s a rough paraphrase of it: mention the Nazis in an argument and you lose. I’ve always avoided Nazi and Fascist comparisons, believing them to be hyperbolic: who was worse than Hitler, after all?While I still don’t anticipate an American holocaust in the unlikely event that Trump is elected, I have to place Godwin’s Law on the back burner for the duration of the campaign. Donald Trump and his supporters represent the dark side of the American psyche and must be stopped.

On to the speech, I thought it was, in equal parts, horrible and horrifying. It was dark, brooding, and jumbled. The delivery was LOUD and wildly OTT. I felt bludgeoned after being screamed at for 76 minutes as well as depressed by listening to a speech that didn’t describe the America I live in.In between accusing Hillary Clinton and James Comey of crimes against the state, Trump told us to be scared, very scared. Even the ostensibly “uplifting” parts were stepped on by Trump’s red-faced, angry, and shouty delivery. I have my doubts that the American people want to be screamed at for four years. It will be bad enough to be shouted at for the next 3 1/2 months.

In substance, tone and delivery, it was a white nationalist speech full of attacks on minorities and immigrants. Brown people scare Donald Trump and he wants you to be afraid too. The speech went over well in the anti-Semitic community as well:

In addition to being delivered in a rather Hitlerian manner, Trump’s solution to every problem was himself. I am your voice, he said several times. Sounds like the Fuhrer principle to me. I wasn’t sure if he’s running for President or Dictator. If you saw it, you know it was that bad. The rest of the convention was funny, Trump’s speech was not.

No one will be surprised to hear that the speech was packed with lies and half-truths calculated to scare the living shit out of the audience. Politics USA has come up with 21 fact checked proven lies in the speech. I’m surprised it was that few. The audacity of mendacity should be the campaign’s slogan instead of Making America White Great Again.

I’m still dubious that the speech played well with the average person watching on teevee. It was too dark, gloomy, and badly delivered. He played to the hall, not the country. Trump confuses volume with strength. It may help solidify the angry white guy vote but how it will play with undecided voters is anybody’s guess. I was, however, told by several friends that they’ve decided to vote for Clinton instead of the Crunchy Granola Machiavelli after watching Trump’s red-faced rantings.

I remain convinced that Donald Trump will lose the election BUT tonight raised the stakes. Why?Underneath all the rabid verbiage was the semblance of a change message, and the Democrats are trying to win a third consecutive term in the White House. My belief that Trump is a LOSER is based on Team Trump’s ineptitude, poor staffing, and lack of an adequate digital strategy or GOTV plan. They don’t have a ground game and Trump has openly sneered at the idea. I hope he continues to do so. Elections are won or lost that way. In 2008 and 2012, Democrats had the better ground game whereas Bush was re-elected in 2004 because of his superior GOTV operation. It had nothing to do with the dark underbelly of America and everything to do with a superior campaign team. In 2016, the Democrats have the advantage in that regard but our voters need to turn out.

Now that I’ve recovered my hearing, the bottom line remains the same: Donald Trump will not be the first Insult Comedian elected President.

Ted Cruz’s Rocky Moment


This is what Rocky wanted to do at the 1964 RNC.

No, I don’t mean the pugilist played by Sylvester Stallone, I’m referring to Nelson Rockefeller, Governor of New York from 1959-1973. Rockefeller thought Barry Goldwater was a sure LOSER and was proven right. He declined to endorse Goldwater and was booed when he spoke at the 1964 Republican Convention at the Cow Palace in Daly City. They say it was in San Francisco but, trust me, Daly City ain’t THE CITY. Here’s a clip of Rocky’s big moment:

Does any of the above sound familiar? It should because Ted Cruz flipped the bird at Donald Trump and Team Trump let him. I still cannot believe they let Cruz speak without assurances that he would endorse the nominee. Compounding their error, Cruz’s fiery address and smirking grand finale overshadowed the workmanlike folksiness of Mike Pence’s acceptance speech. Gosh, golly, heck shucks, I’m Mike Liar Liar Pence On Fire, and I’m a folksy Hoosier. All anyone inside or outside the hall wanted to talk about was Cruz’s speech. They should have scheduled the losing candidates for Monday in case there was trouble. Team Trump FAIL. Again.

Cruz not only declined to endorse Trump, he told Republicans to “vote your conscience.” The hall erupted in boos and a big ass smirk crossed Cruz’s face. It was a moment when Cruz’s thick skin and willingness to be hated came in mighty handy. It sounded like Philly in the hall but the jeers were led by the New York delegation. No shocker.

Cruz’s hatred of Trump is personal as well as ideological. Remember, Trump viciously attacked Heidi Cruz and, even worse, implied that Cruz’s crazy father was somehow involved in the Kennedy Assassination. I’ve long thought these personal attacks were beyond the pale. It turns out that Cruz has a long memory and is an excellent grudge holder.

A private meeting and apology would have gone a long way towards patching things up but the Donald don’t play that. Of course, Cruz-quite correctly-thinks the Donald is a LOSER and treated his speech as the opening shot of his 2020 campaign. Still, this was the first time I’ve ever had any positive feelings about Tailgunner Ted:

There are two versions circulating about Cruz’s Rocky moment; both of which illustrate Team Trump’s incompetence. First, the Trumpers had Cruz’s speech but didn’t read it carefully and somehow missed the significance of the “vote your conscience” line. This is plausible given how badly the Trumpvention has been run and organized. It’s also a partial explanation for the spousal plagiarism flap. Second, the Trumpers *wanted* the bomb to go off on the floor to unite the party in loathing of Cruz. This line is being peddled by Patrick Bateman Junior among others. This could be the case OR it’s lie-spin peddled by a inept, mendacious, and “unconventional” campaign. In either, case this was a disaster as it stepped on the VP nominee’s fairly decent speech, by gosh and golly. Fudge that poop.

I have to give Cruz credit for chutzpah. Trump’s political brand is dominance and submission. Look at Christie and Newt Gingrich both of whom behave like Trump’s valets. Newt even tried to rescue things last night by claiming Cruz didn’t say what he said: that’s one refutation of the “deliberate bomb” theory.

In his bold defiance of Trumpian domination, Cruz has laid down markers for 2020. When the dust settles, he could emerge from it as the conservative badass who stood up to the mouthy LOSER. Another refutation of the “deliberate bomb” theory was Trump’s entrance into the hall to distract attention from Cruz’s own bombshell. It was a very bad night for Team Trump no matter how they try to lie their way out of it. Sad.

It was a genuinely amazing moment that I happened to see because I tuned into the Trumpvention just as Tailgunner Ted hit the stage. Looks like I violated my own rule about not watching the RNC. I plead guilty as charged. I hope I won’t be subjected to a Christie-style show trial. Dude thinks he’s Vishinsky (Stalin’s chief purge prosecutor) or something.

Tailgunner Ted is playing the long game in this duel of creep vs. creep. His disregard for party unity is breathtaking and, upon reflection, predictable. What’s unpredictable is that it happened at the convention, which is on Team Trump. Of course, the Insult Comedian thinks that any publicity is good publicity. It’s how sociopaths roll.

The question for Cruz is whether this gamble will pay off when Trump LOSES. Rockefeller’s anti-Goldwater gambit made him at least Luke, if not Lucifier, to party conservatives. He never won the GOP nomination. He did, however, become Sainted Moderate Gerald Ford’s Veep but was forced off the ticket because of the Reaganite challenge.  The flip-off picture I have at the top was taken during the ’76 campaign when Rocky was free to let his wingnut detractors know what he really thought of them. In contrast, Nixon supported Goldwater and in the immortal words of Steve Earle:

I think that last part of the Rocky analogy doesn’t quite work. Goldwater was the founder of something (the conservative movement) whereas Trump is an outlier, a freak with bad hair. Additionally, people *liked* Barry Goldwater as a person and Trump is one of the worst human beings ever to run for President. Cruz is, of course, a legendary asshole BUT his views are the views of most Republicans whereas God only knows what Donald Trump believes in except for himself. Repeat after me: He’s still worse than Nixon.

I put myself in a Nick Lowe mood yesterday. I’ll give him the last word. The song is not about Nelson Rockefeller BUT it describes the nature of the Trump-Cruz relationship in the wake of Ted Cruz Vengeance Night at the RNC:


Convention Chronicle (Emphasis On Chronic)


So, last night, Patsy, I mean Pence, accepted his role of porter and coconut clapper for The Donald. To tell you the truth, I only caught parts of the speech as it played opposite a television show that’s made it to my list (Mr. Robot)…and I’m still too cheap to buy a DVR.

But, I don’t think I missed much…because while Pence was the headliner, Tailgunner Ted sucked out all the oxygen, farting in their general direction


I dunno. Sort of fits with the whole weird, sad, bizarre, and at times ugly clown show. Rudy Ghouliani looked and sounded like he’d miscalculated and overdid it on the Adderall and Mountain DewChris Christie established his charter membership in the He-Man-Hitlery-Haters-Club 


That’s not even mentioning the unusually kind words for Michelle Obama. But I guess you have to be complimentary when you’re plagiarizing, um, borrowing her own words.

Well…anyway…it’s official, and after tonight, even more so.


Ladies and gentlemen, your 2016 GOP…


Pulp Fiction Thursday: Cornell Woolrich

Cornell Woolrich was a prolific author of crime fiction novels. So prolific, in fact, that he had several pen names, the best known of which was William Irish. For this week’s PFT. I’m posting one deadly title by Woolrich and another by Irish. I hope it brings me the luck of the Irish but given the title that seems unlikely:


Tweet Of The Day: Twinks For Trump Edition

Geert Wilders is a right-wing Islamophobic Dutch politician. He’s also openly gay. He appeared at a pro-gay Trump event in Cleveland last night. The WaPo’s Dave Weigel was there:

If you don’t know what a twink is, I’ll let the Urban Dictionary fill you in:

An attractive, boyish-looking, young gay man. The stereotypical twink is 18-22, slender with little or no body hair, often blonde, dresses in club wear even at 10:00 AM, and is not particularly intelligent. A twink is the gay answer to the blonde bimbo cheerleader.

Every time I think this election can’t get any weirder it does. So it goes.

Malaka Of The Week: Al Baldasaro


Baldasaro speaks, Trump listens.

As I said earlier today, the haters are in charge at the Trumpvention. One of them is a New Hampshire State Rep named Al Baldasaro who is Trump’s veterans adviser. He hates the soon-to-be Democratic nominee so much that he wants to go beyond locking her up. And that’s why the hitherto obscure Al Baldasaro is malaka of the week.

BuzzFeed broke the story so I’ll let Andrew Kaczynski fill you in:

New Hampshire state representative Al Baldasaro, who is also a Trump delegate from the state and has appeared with Trump at campaign events, made the comments on the Jeff Kuhner Show.

“I’m a veteran that went to Desert Shield, Desert Storm. I’m also a father who sent a son to war, to Iraq, as a Marine Corps helicopter avionics technician. Hillary Clinton to me is the Jane Fonda of the Vietnam,” he said. “She is a disgrace for the lies that she told those mothers about their children that got killed over there in Benghazi. She dropped the ball on over 400 emails requesting back up security. Something’s wrong there.”

“This whole thing disgusts me, Hillary Clinton should be put in the firing line and shot for treason,” he added.

Baldasaro has spoken at several Trump events, introducing Trump multiple times, including at an event in late May where he admonished the media for focusing on questions over Trump’s donations to veteran’s charities.

He later added in the radio interview that Clinton was a “piece of garbage.”

It takes one to know one. Malaka Baldasaro’s comments show how extreme the rhetoric on the Right has gotten. And this is an elected official who’s advising Trump. If HRC were President now, this would be sedition pure and simple. The good news for Baldasaro is that she’s not but I suspect the Secret Service will be paying him a visit directly. Death threats against Presidential candidates are not to be taken lightly even if made by a bloviating ninny.

I’m not surprised that someone associated with Team Trump went there. It’s a small step from demanding the imprisonment of your opponents to demanding their execution. It’s such an extreme statement that I won’t spend as much time as I ordinarily would mocking this incoherent statement: “Hillary Clinton to me is the Jane Fonda of the Vietnam.” I guess he means she’s like the Jane Fonda of the Vietnam era but, as I’ve said before, details are not the strong suit of the Trumpites.

As easy as it is to mock someone like Al Baldasaro, incitement speech such as this is not a laughing matter. There was a lot of it before the Kennedy Assassination in 1963. In America, we defeat our political opponents at the ballot box, we don’t gun them down. I would have thought that a veteran would understand this basic concept but, apparently, he does not. And that is why Al Baldasaro is malaka of the week.

Banana Republicanism


Discarded TP logo. It still works for me.

Night two of the Trumpvention was more professionally staged, but it continues to look more like a monster truck rally or lynch mob than a political convention. Despite all the talk of GOP pols falling in line, there were empty seats at the arena, which wouldn’t happen if Trump had a decent whip operation. Organization is apparently banned at the Trumpvention because it has something to do with Saul Alinsky, Lucifer, and Hillary Clinton. I still don’t understand Dr. Sleepy’s point but the crowd liked it. Of course, they like anything nasty, vicious, and untrue.

Former 2016 frontrunner, Chris Christie, held a Kangaroo Court that “indicted” HRC for her various “crimes” none of which happen to be crimes but details don’t matter at the Trumpvention. It’s particularly rich coming from a man whose mentor, David Samson, pled guilty to corruption charges related to his appointment by Christie to the Port Authority. I believe it’s called projection.

Time for some self-paraphrasing, yesterday I described the program as red meat that was “rotten to the core and laced with maggots.” The maggots went flying into the arena during Christie’s speech, which was an extended rant, not a prosecutorial indictment. It got the crowd revved up and shouting “LOCK HER UP, LOCK HER UP.” That was the point of the pudgy Goering wannabe’s speech: to incite the crowd to a sort of lynch mob style blood lust. It certainly had the maggots swarming around the empty seats in an arena that Lebron James sells out:

The tenor and tone of the Trumpvention has an un-American feel as Slate’s Michelle Goldberg put it:

… American presidential campaigns are not typically built around the dream of jailing the opposing candidate. Prime-time convention speakers usually pay lip service to the cliché of disagreeing without being disagreeable. Convention planners have not, in the past, staged their events like fantasy show trials. They have not sought to work their crowds into ecstasies of hatred. Those chants of “LOCK HER UP!” might be common among conservatives nowadays, but we haven’t seen their like at a modern political convention.

The nastiest recent convention was the 2004 GOP confab at Madison Square Garden. It was hateful but nothing compared to this. It did, however, lay the foundation for the rabid and factually challenged rhetoric on display in Cleveland. The chant of “LOCK HER UP, LOCK HER UP” is something one would expect in Putin’s Russia, Chavez’s Venezuela, or Peron’s Argentina. I briefly considered calling them Borscht Republicans but settled on Banana Republicans even if Tweety muttered darkly about Banana Republics on MSNBC last night. Even Tweety is right a few times every election cycle. Uh oh, my leg just got all tingly and shit…

It’s amusing to think of the Insult Comedian and his Plagiarizing Wife as Juan and Isabel Peron. That’s right, Isabel, not the chick from the musical. Isabel was Peron’s third wife and succeeded him as President of Argentina. Peronism back in the day is a fine analog for Trumpism: it was an incoherent witches brew of far left and far right ideas. Isabel’s misrule brought the notorious, blood-drenched military junta to power. That’s probably why you hear more about Evita: all she did was give stirring, populist speeches and help her husband coddle Nazi war criminals.

Since Trump loves dictators so much, here’s a double dose with the Perons and Ceaucsecus:Dictators

The good news is that, in the unlikely event Trump becomes President, his immigrant third wife cannot succeed him as Oval One. The family does, however, seem to have dynastic ambitions and Donald Trump Junior is the Chosen One. I guess it’s because he has a penis and his father doesn’t want to date him or some such shit. With his slicked back hair and fancy suits, Junior resembles a less attractive Christian Bale as Partrick Bateman in American Psycho. In the novel, Bateman’s hero was (who else?) Donald Trump. The only thing Junior wants to kill is democracy as we know it in favor of dear old dad’s reality show autocracy.

The cries of “LOCK HER UP, LOCK HER UP” may resound with the Republican base but it won’t go down well in the general election. It was too much even for the junior Senator from Arizona:

In 2002, current British Prime Minister Theresa May memorably called the Tories “the nasty party.” Ms. May thought that was a bad thing and hoped to change it. The current GOP is the nastier party and it’s just fine with them. It’s what happens when you allow a sociopathic assclown like Donald Trump to capture your party. Banana Republicanism has been a long time coming. Let’s hope it’s not as contagious as the Norovirus, which is spreading among Trumpvention staffers, thereby making it a literal shit show as well as a figurative one. Holy crap, I sound like Joe Biden. Not a bad thing, really. Now where are my aviator shades?

Repeat after me: Donald Trump will not be the first Insult Comedian elected President.

Album Cover Art Wednesday: Whenever You Need Somebody

This is without a doubt the dullest album cover I’ve ever posted for this feature. It’s by an artist I don’t like and the cover looks like it’s Rick Astley’s headshot from his days as an underwear model. Wait a minute, that was the dude who spoke at the Trumpvention whose name I refuse to recall. Let’s get the cover over with so I can explain why Rick Astley’s debut album is featured this week. There’s method to my madness. Promise:



Here’s the real reason for this snoozer’s presence here at First Draft. Melania Trump’s speech quoted Astley’s monster hit, Never Gonna Let You Go. It appears to be an example of political rickrolling. I’ll yield the floor to the distinguished blogger from Esquire to tell you more:

Perhaps the oddest quirk of the third Mrs. Trump’s speech was not the plagiarism, but the specter of vanquished Lyin’ Ted Cruz rising up when an apparent rickroll was inserted in the middle of Melania’s speech.

“If you want someone to fight for your country, I assure you, he is your guy,” the prospective First Lady confidently assured the delegates. “He will never give up. And most importantly, he will never let you down.”

Curiously enough, it was Lyin’ Ted himself who last employed a political rickroll, when he lured visitors to his campaign site with the April Fool’s claim that Trump had accepted his challenge to a one-on-one debate.

Oh, those zany Republicans. What a nutty, nutty bunch of wacky kooks.

I’ll spare you the Rick Astley tune and quote a passage from Nick Lowe’s song, All Men Are Liars:

Well, do you remember Rick Astley?
He had a big fat hit it was ghastly
He said I’m never gonna give you up or let you down
Well, I’m here to tell you that dick’s a clown

Now that I think of it, All Men Are Liars could be the theme song for the Trump campaign. Of course, the Insult Comedian would have to concede that he was a liar. So, I guess that’s a non-starter but a man can dream, in between lies, that is. Here’s Nick’s video:

As a public service, I feel compelled to post all the lyrics for All Men Are Liars. They’re brilliant and stunning as they say in Great Britain:

All Men,
All Men are liars their words ain’t worth no more than worn out tires.
Hey Girls, bring rusty pliers to pull this tooth,
All men are liars and that’s the truth.

Do you remember Rick Astley?
He had a big fat hit that was ghastly.
He said I’m never gonna give you up or let you down.
Well I’m here to tell ya that Dick’s a clown
Though he was just a boy when he made that vow.
I’d bet it all that he knows by now.

All Men,
All Men are liars their words ain’t worth no more than worn out tires.
Hey Girls, bring rusty pliers to pull this tooth,
All men are liars and that’s the truth.

Among god’s creatures man must be.
The most slimy and slippery now.
There stands the naked ape in a monkey suit.
Behind a little mustache he grew, the shifty brute.
All the ones not choking on the words they ate are
Sweating on getting their stories straight.

All Men,
All Men are liars their words ain’t worth no more than worn out tires.
Hey Girls, bring rusty pliers to pull this tooth,
All men are liars and that’s the truth.

All Men,
All Men are liars their words ain’t worth no more than worn out tires.
Hey Girls, bring rusty pliers to pull this tooth,
All men are liars and that’s the truth.

Thanks, Nick. I’ll give Nick the last word with a song he wrote with his then wife, Carlene Carter. I hope it comes true in campaign 2016: ain’t no bigger heel that Donald J. Trump:

Apocalypse GOP

Nixon-Agnew 1968 RNC.

Two crooks at the 1968 RNC.

Heavy metal is to suburban white boys what the delta blues is to black folks.  I realize that’s not the most contemporary analogy but Donald Trump isn’t the most contemporary guy; neither am I, for that matter. Last night GOP headbangers served up a program of red meat to their base that was rotten to the core and laced with maggots. I’m not sure when the maggots went flying into the arena but it may have been when Mayor 9/11 did his Mussolini impression; complete with broad, mugging facial expressions and flicks of spittle at the corners of his mouth. This tweet sums it up rather nicely:

I have long maintained that the *real* patron saint of the modern GOP (I know that’s an oxymoron) is not the superficially sunny Ronald Reagan, but the master of political gloom and doom, Richard Nixon. Tricky was one of the most successful politicians in our history before his spectacular fall; tying FDR’s record for most times on a national ticket with five. Tricky had a genuine chip on his shoulder and genuine resentment of the elites of his day. In contrast, Trump has an ersatz chip on his shoulder and is a fake man of the people.

In a campaign known for the audacity of mendacity, I have to give Paul Manafort credit for admitting the Nixonian nature of their enterprise:

In a startling disclosure on the first day of the convention, Mr. Trump’s campaign chairman, Paul Manafort, declared that the candidate was using, as the template for his own prime-time speech accepting the Republican nomination, Nixon’s convention address 48 years ago in Miami Beach. “If you go back and read,” Mr. Manafort said at a Bloomberg News breakfast, “that speech is pretty much on line with a lot of the issues that are going on today.”

Mr. Trump himself, in an interview, drew explicit comparisons between his candidacy and Nixon’s, and between the current political climate and that of the United States in 1968.

“I think what Nixon understood is that when the world is falling apart, people want a strong leader whose highest priority is protecting America first,” Mr. Trump said recently. “The ’60s were bad, really bad. And it’s really bad now. Americans feel like it’s chaos again.”

Remember when the Insult Comedian allegedly went Celebrity Apprentice on Roger Stone and fired his ass? Manafort is one of Stone’s closest associates and Roger’s paranoid fingerprints are all over the hate fest that was the first night of the Trumpvention. Roger Stone is a notorious Nixon idolator. Who else would have this tattoo?


Roger Stone has Tricky Dick’s back.

Fear has long been a key component of Republican Presidential campaigns. I thought it had reached its apex in 2004 with the Bush-Cheney “we’re all gonna die if you vote for Kerry” sleaze fest. They really should have used  this Sixties anti-war classic with new lyrics. Talk about expert hippie punching.

Now that I think of it, Trump thinks we’re all fixin’ to die and he made that infamous joke about Megyn Kelly on the rag, so perhaps they can steal from Country Joe who stole from Kid Ory. (I’ll leave the plagiarism kerfuffle to Athenae. She nailed it.) Team Trump should just do it and threaten to sue Joe McDonald back to the Stoner Age if he objects. Btw, my friend and neighbor, Justin Zitler, represented Kid Ory’s heirs in an ultimately unsuccessful plagarism suit against Country Joe.

Back to the Trump-Nixon connection. The Insult Comedian declared himself the “law and order candidate” last week but it’s hard to imagine him following in Tricky’s footsteps. The 1968 Nixon campaign was tightly controlled and scripted to keep Tricky away from the press except when it was on his own terms. Nixon was a highly disciplined candidate who stayed on script and abhorred any spontaneity. Does any of that sound like Donald Trump? The man who called Bill-O during his own convention? Additionally, Nixon was qualified for the job and knew how to dog whistle. Trump has no qualifications whatsoever and plays his bigotry on a Sousaphone. He’s loud, flashy, and brassy. Nixon would be appalled by Team Trump’s rank amateurism. Here’s how some wise ass put it on the Tweeter Tube:

Trump is just nuts enough to try and one-up one of the worst photo-ops in political history. Everything he does is the best and biggest, after all…

I am firmly convinced that the only way to deal with events like the first night of the Trumpvention is with humor. This is, however, deadly serious stuff, and last night was like a glitzy Vegas version of the Nuremberg Rallies. Some people respond to fear and vote accordingly. It’s the responsibility of decent Americans to go to the polls to ensure that Donald Trump will not be the first Insult Comedian elected President. I don’t care if, like me, you’re voting *for* Hillary or it’s a clothespin vote: Trump is an unstable, erratic man with a short attention span who might start a war on a whim. Don’t give him the chance.

The One-Day Story: In Which I Give Melania Trump’s People Some Free Advice

Oh, Melania. I so want you to succeed because I have a feeling you just married a rich dude, and now you’re in the middle of this shitshow, and I kind of dig your cheekbones. But now you’re in the middle of this shitshow for your own thing, and this is not helping.

Guys, you fire the speechwriter, you say hey, we fucked up hiring whatsisnuts, he’ll never eat lunch in this town again, and by tomorrow everybody will be talking about something else. Probably some other preventable emergency you created. That’s how these things work. It’s a one-day story. It’s a miserable story but you apologize and then it’s over.

You do this, you faff around with “it’s not really plagiarism” and “it’s Hillary’s fault!” and “everybody plagiarizes” and you make it a two-week clusterfuck that never ends. You prolong the story. You prolong your own agony. You continue it on and on and on.

Just STOP IT. People will laugh and then in a week you can pretend it’s funny too and it’ll be over. Keep this defensive shit up and it’s the six-pointed star all over again.


We Used to Fight for Better

I’m stuck at work right now, at a nonstop event that won’t end until Sunday morning, so I haven’t been able to watch the entirety of the RNC, and I’ll likely not be able to see much beyond tonight. I thought I would be sorry, but after 12 minutes of watching Melania (meh) and retired Lt. Gen. Michael Flynn (WTF POLAR BEAR) I wanted very badly to be drunk on any kind of substance whatsoever.

I managed to see five seconds of Bob Dole standing up to be applauded, though, and that was worse, maybe, than anything that came out of the mouths of the fascists and fools who followed. Bob Dole is 457 years old now, and one of a vanishing few Republicans Of Name to attend this convention. There’s no George W. Bush, no Mitt, no McCain. It’s just Bob Dole, listening to a guy whose biggest firefight was in Grenada, talking about America’s enemies and war.

And something about the dazed and tired look on his face, the smile at the weak applause that passes for enthusiasm in that heinous mosh pit in Cleveland, sent me searching for this: 

It is for the people of America that I stand here tonight, and by their generous leave. And as my voice echoes across darkness and desert, as it is heard over car radios on coastal roads, and as it travels above farmland and suburb, deep into the heart of cities that, from space, look tonight like strings of sparkling diamonds, I can tell you that I know whose moment this is: It is yours. It is yours entirely.

And who am I that stands before you tonight?

I was born in Russell, Kansas, a small town in the middle of the prairie surrounded by wheat and oil wells. As my neighbors and friends from Russell, who tonight sit in front of this hall, know well, Russell, though not the West, looks out upon the West.

And like most small towns on the plains, it is a place where no one grows up without an intimate knowledge of distance.

And the first thing you learn on the prairie is the relative size of a man compared to the lay of the land. And under the immense sky where I was born and raised, a man is very small, and if he thinks otherwise, he is wrong.

I come from good people, very good people, and I’m proud of it. My father’s name was Doran and my mother’s name was Bina. I loved them and there’s no moment when my memory of them and my love for them does not overshadow anything I do — even this, even here — and there is no heighth to which I have risen that is high enough to allow me to allow me to forget them — to allow me to forget where I came from, and where I stand and how I stand — with my feet on the ground, just a man at the mercy of God.

And this perspective has been strengthened and solidified by a certain wisdom that I owe not to any achievement of my own, but to the gracious compensations of age.

Now I know that in some quarters I may not — may be expected to run from this, the truth of this, but I was born in 1923, and facts are better than dreams and good presidents and good candidates don’t run from the truth.

I do not need the presidency to make or refresh my soul. That false hope I will gladly leave to others. For greatness lies not in what office you hold, but on how honest you are in how you face adversity and in your willingness to stand fast in hard places.

Age has its advantages.

Let me be the bridge to an America than only the unknowing call myth. Let me be the bridge to a time of tranquility, faith and confidence in action.

And to those who say it was never so, that America’s not been better, I say you’re wrong. And I know because I was there. And I have seen it. And I remember.

I don’t blame Bob Dole for being at the convention. It might be his last one, and the Nazis shot him in the Appenines in 1945 so he’s earned a trip to the most expensive hookers Cleveland has to offer him along with whatever drugs he might want to sample. Get it, Grandpa.

I went looking for that speech because I remembered reading it in the wake of the Romney convention, and how “even this, even here” rang out true. If you love words, you have to love those, and “by their generous leave.” I mean, Bob Dole. Not who anyone would consider a great orator. And yet.

If there’s a yearning for the past that could be considered admirable — as a middle-class white chick let’s say parts of the 1940s would have been kinder to me than to, say, a black or gay person — it’s that in our politics even as we were calling things screwed up, we were not implying the end times.

We could figure it out. We could fight about it, but we could figure it out, and if we lost this one, we would keep fighting.

Now, though, this might be the last election, said Rudy Giuliani, sputtering into the microphone. This might be the end of it. For the Republican party, one dearly hopes, but for America? Are they running on a platform of “fuck it, this is too hard and Chachi’s sister said they were gonna get a keg?”

I can see Republicans being despondent, but that’s a little over the top even for them. This is what they’re going with, in 20 years, from “Let me be the bridge to an America than only the unknowing call myth,” to “this is the last election, this is it.”

I get that we are tired. Everyone is tired. Probably Bob Dole is tired too. He didn’t seem thrilled to be yanked upright at this shitshow, but again, whatever he wants he gets at this point. The point is that you don’t get to give up. Even a hateful ideology doesn’t get to give up. It has to fight for itself, too. Instead this convention seems to be longing to lie down.


Quote Of The Day: Lyin’ Donald Edition

Since the Insult Comedian finds it impossible to NOT  be the center of attention for even a nano-second, he called into Bill-O’s show during *his* convention. The two men shared a few yuks and more than a few lies. Trump took credit for the Trumpvention being in Cleveland when he had nothing to do with it. But this was his biggest whopper:

“Well, I’m probably the least racist person there is. I’m doing very well with the African community, African-American community.”

Cue graphic:


One whole percent? I’m surprised it’s that high after his recent racist comments. Thanks to Lamar White for the screen shot.

Btw, what is it with Trump and Z-List celebrities? Scott Baio was a fifth banana on Happy Days who’s barely a celeb any more. I’m not sure even the Fonz would recognize Chachi at this point. I would hope that the Fonz would tell the Insult Comedian to sit on it.

Speaking of the Donald’s favorite African Amercian, Don King is in Cleveland. His conviction for stomping someone to death disqualified him from speaking at the Trumpvention but he’s there to show off his bad hair. Here’s an old shot of old friends:


“Here’s my African American.”

Isn’t that all warm and fuzzy? The flags held by the crooked fight promoter make me want to take a dive into one of James Brown’s last hit singles:


Odds & Sods: I Don’t Like Mondays Redux

It’s been a busy few days in the world of news so I thought I’d go Odds & Sods on your asses of a Monday. In short, I want to mouth off about several subjects at once. Let’s see if I can pull it off. I’m reusing a post title so I added a redux. It’s part of my reductive method as a blogger.

The Adrastos Convention Method: I never watch gavel-to-gavel or wall-to-wall coverage of the Republican Convention. I prefer to read about it as opposed to watching anything more than clips. I already know what those crazy fuckers think and since I’m not running a campaign, I don’t need to hear them or the media bloviate. I might have made an exception for Tim Tebow but somebody lied about his speaking at the RNC, so I won’t have the pleasure of hissing the former Florida and failed NFL QB. His name popped up on the schedule and he denied agreeing to speak. Oops. It’s an example of how poorly organized Trump’s convention appears to be.

It just occurred to me that the last time I could, but didn’t, watch the Republican Convention was 2004. We evacuated up North to Bossier City for Hurricane Gustav, which hit Red Stick but not New Orleans in 2008. Then Mayor Nagin had a public meltdown when ordering the evacuation. Many were sympathetic and wrote it off to PTSD. I was not. It was malakatude pure and simple. I did, however, have fun with the Teutonic name of the storm: I was concerned that sour kraut and beer might rain down on the city…

In 2012, we stayed for Hurricane Issac. It was a category-1 storm so we thought it was no big whoop. It wasn’t but we lost power for nearly a week. I posted here a few times during Issac, but I missed the whole Clint Eastwood talking to the empty chair thing. Speaking of poor convention organization, the robotic Romneyites should have known better. It was as if Clint was channeling the crazy John Huston-like character he played in White Hunter, Black Heart.

Let’s move on to the Trump-Pence roll out.

That’s The Ticket: Why anyone was surprised that the Insult Comedian humiliated Mike Liar Liar Pence On Fire at the ticket roll-out event is beyond me. It’s what he does: endless bragging and rambling non-sequiturs. I got a big kick out of them playing You Cant Always Get What You Want as Trump entered. Surreal but typical.

Everything Trump does revolves around what TPM’s Josh Marshall calls his “domination politics.” Trump feels the need to be in control of every situation and bend everyone to his will. Look at Chris Christie and N Leroy Gingrich who have been reduced to coat-holding courtiers, and Newt was a hero of the American Right in the 1990’s. How the mighty have fallen. Mike Pence is a penny ante minor league wingnut compared to Newt and Governor Asshole.

There will lots more shit for Pence to eat over the next few months. I hope he knows his place. He might want to watch a few episodes of The Apprentice to understand what he’s in for. He could be the next Gary Busey or Meatloaf…

Turkey Coup Fail: I spent some time on Friday tweeting about the Turkish coup, which ever so briefly looked like it might succeed. Unfortunately for them, the coup plotters went old school: tanks in the streets and seizure of state television and radio. It was not enough in the age of the internets.

All the original reports about the whereabouts of President Erdogan were wrong. He was said to be in the air and beseeching Chancellor Merkel for refuge in Germany. Wrong. Call it the fog of Twitter. The coup plotters failed putsch 101: detain the head of state. It won’t guarantee success-Gorby was arrested in the failed KGB coup back in the USSR-but it would have given them a fighting chance instead of what happened: a farce more reminiscent of Duck Soup than a proper, improper golpe de estado. I like the Spanish term: Latin Americans know how to throw a proper coup or at least they used to…

The real question is whether it was a genuine coup or an elected autocrat’s Reichstag fire? It beats the hell out of me, but it’s possible that Erdogan concocted the whole farce. The best thing I read while the coup was collapsing was an interview with Turkey scholar Jenny White in Slate.

The other big story of the weekend took place in Baton Rouge, which is usually a boring place except for the state guvmint and LSU football.

The Fog of Red Stick: Speaking of premature and inaccurate reporting, stories about yesterday’s BR police shooting take the cake. The shooter has been described as a Black Nationalist, a right-wing extremist, new age cultist, and a common criminal. All we know for sure is that conclusion jumping has become the national pastime. I prefer baseball.

Ever since I wrote my wee Sermonette last night, I’ve had-appropriately enough-a Police song in my head. It fits my pessimistic/hopeful mood quite well. Instead of posting the Boomtown Rats again, I’ll give Sting, Andy, and Stewart the last word. Eat your heart out, Bob Geldof:

Today on Tommy T’s Obsession with the Freeperati – “Sarah is the concept by which we measure our Palin” edition

Oh dear – “Satindoll”‘s got the fever for the flavour of Our Sarah. It’s –

Palin and simple!

Vanity — Who I Suspect Will Be Trump’s Choice for Republican VP
July 14, 2016 | Satin Doll

Posted on ‎7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎01‎:‎05‎ ‎PM by SatinDoll

No, I do not believe Trump’s choice will be Gov. Pence of Indiana. Nor Newt, nor Christie — not even a man. Yes, I do believe the proposed VP will be a woman.

I suspect that Trump’s VP running mate will be ex-Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin.

Why? Well, she is a natural born citizen, a real conservative, and she is ferocious contra liberals/progressives. In addition, she isn’t on the list of speakers for the Cleveland Convention and she has been silent of late. She has had lots of experience in dealing with those demons from Hell (the MSM) and her nomination will literally terrify the GOPee boys club.

1 posted on 7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎01‎:‎05‎ ‎PM by SatinDoll
Well, Our Sarah’s name has disappeared from the “hot topic” block of links at the top of the Freeperville main page, but she is still in the “popular keywords” list on the right.
Or morbid curiosity?
To: SatinDoll

The flight out of Anchorage should be easy to track….

3 posted on ‎7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎03‎:‎23‎ ‎PM by Genoa

Oh, we’ll get around to Track in a little bit, you betcha!
To: SatinDoll

“I suspect” = “I wish.”

5 posted on ‎7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎04‎:‎09‎ ‎PM by Huck (Never give up.)

To: SatinDoll

She has too much bad luck.

13 posted on 7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎06‎:‎38‎ ‎PM by donna (No one should be allowed to become a citizen or even a resident if they support Sharia Law.)

To: SatinDoll

HELL NO!!!!!

21 posted on 7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎09‎:‎45‎ ‎PM by ObozoMustGo2012

But why??
To: SatinDoll

Sarah’s delivery has become too shrill and disjointed.
When she writes her opinions down on Facebook, it’s a totally different story, it’s the other Sarah, who is not caught up in performing for or reacting to the cameras.

20 posted on 7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎09‎:‎10‎ ‎PM by lee martell


To: lee martell

You said it well, as to delivery “shrill and disjointed”. The only word I could think of was “hysterical”, which was not an accurate descriptor.

26 posted on 7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎11‎:‎38‎ ‎PM by NEMDF

To: SatinDoll

It all depends if she can get her family under control, make sure no one is on probation for fighting in bars, no reality tv show conflicts, is not scheduled for Dancing with the Stars, and Kate plus her Eight is going to vote.

55 posted on ‎7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎2‎:‎29‎:‎45‎ ‎PM by Toespi

To: SatinDoll

Sarah is nice, but has become a caracture(sic) of herself. It is now difficult to tell her from Tina Fey’s imitation.

82 posted on 7‎/‎14‎/‎2016‎ ‎3‎:‎53‎:‎45‎ ‎PM by aMorePerfectUnion

Actually, it always was.
More on this as reality sets in….

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Sunday Evening Sermonette with Adrastos

Social media has been a hotbed of hysteria and hyperbole the last few days. Yeah, I know, that’s typical but this has been extreme. It’s been amped up by people connecting unconnected events because they occurred at around the same time.  I saw the Nice attack, failed Turkish coup, and Baton Rouge police shooting listed as an unholy trinity that should have us all adopting monastic vows and/or run screaming into the night. Freaking out never made ANY situation better and usually makes things a helluva lot worse as does endless speculation about events and the who, what, and why of them. In addition to the fogs of war and history, there’s the fog of news. The internets and 24-hour news cycle had led many people to expect to know everything instantaneously, and in detail because everything is about them. It’s not, y’all. People need to relax and take a chill pill: the world has always been a slaughterhouse and we just have to get by the best we can. Fixating on bad news is just as bad as ignoring it altogether. Balance is vital even for someone as imbalanced as I’ve been known to be…

One reason I have come to respect, admire, and, I daresay, love President Obama so much is that he’s always calm and takes the long view. Ranting, raving, and making threats have as much to do with leadership as bad hair. They’re certainly fashionable on the American Right but throwing gasoline on a fire never made anything better. It may frustrate people that POTUS takes the long view but it’s an essential component of genuine leadership: it’s what made FDR our greatest President. The world has always been an imperfect place and hysteria has never improved it. I have a relative who melts down and freaks out in the face of adversity. Every personal or world event calls for drama as far as they’re concerned. Fuck that shit. It’s a prescription for madness and despair. Empathy is a fine quality but empathy overkill can be lethal.

Now is the time for people to take a deep breath and do something pleasurable. I’ve seen folks urging us all to don hair shirts and forsake the joys of life. Fuck that shit. It reminds me of post-K New Orleans when people told us that celebrating Carnival profaned the memory of the dead. Once again: fuck that shit. We’d been through a lot and Carnival was just what we needed to ease the pain: good food and booze didn’t hurt either. We’d survived as a community after suffering grievously and needed to cut loose and have some fun.

I’m tired of the fear mongers who tell us to freak out and hide under the bed at the first sign of trouble as well as the scaredy cats who fall in line. Fear and paranoia never helped anything whereas keeping a level head and a sense of humor can save our collective asses.

In searching for an antidote for this palpable fear and paranoia, I thought of the Holocaust survivors I’ve met. One of whom was one of my mother’s best friends, Mrs. Rosenberg. She was a plump and cheerful woman who lived down the street from us when I was a small child. One day I noticed the tattooed numbers on her arm and asked her about them. I was about 8 years old and my mom gave me a stern look but her friend waved her off and told me what they signified. It was the first time I’d ever heard of the Shoah. I was horrified and asked how she could be so cheerful after so much loss and suffering. Mrs. Rosenberg smiled, patted me on the head, and said: “When you’ve been to hell and back, nothing else ever seems so bad.”

Words to live by. I’ll add my own: fuck that shit.

Sunday Ferretblogging: Science, Bitch! Edition

Sorry for not providing photos of my own weaselbeast this week; have been up to my neck in a work project and it continues all this week during the RNC, so no crack vans for this shitshow. I will be on Twitter of the evenings, though, so we can hang out and snark there.

Let’s get to the fuzzy news: 

The ferrets are being taken out by the sylvatic plague at the moment, and they’re in danger of being wiped out altogether. But the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has a plan: They’re attaching a “glorified gumball machine,” so says US Fish and Wildlife biologist Randy Machett, to drones to distribute M&Ms covered in peanut butter and, more importantly, oral vaccines.

As Machett tells The Guardian, “It is the fastest, cheapest way to distribute the vaccine. We are hopeful this oral vaccine will be used to mitigate plague sites and treat tens of thousands of acres each year.”

The M&Ms actually aren’t for the ferrets, but for the prairie dogs in the area, which make upabout 90 percent of the black-footed ferret’s diet. Assuming this plan gets final approval from the FWS, the drone should take to the Montana skies by September to shoot the M&Ms in three directions in 30-foot intervals.

Shooting M&Ms at prairie dogs out of drone-mounted gumball machines — if my high school science teacher had been able to sell THAT as one application of what we’d been learning I’d be goddamn Marie Curie by now.


We Always Criticize the Protesters

During the Bush years, we filthy hippies FREQUENTLY heard that if we were not so filthy, and did not smoke so much pot, and would just get jobs already or shut up about Palestine or not make giant puppets, more mainstream people like [hippie-puncher] would join the anti-war movement and the war would end.

(Because refusing to end a war unless people conform to your aesthetics of protest is such an admirable sentiment. “I would have stopped all that killing but you used the wrong words so I did not.” The FUCK kind of sociopathic shit is that?)

During the protests that formed the beginnings of the visible Black Lives Matter movement, in Ferguson and Baltimore, it was the same thing: Why do they have to wear rude T-shirts and break windows? Why can’t they let themselves be tear-gassed peacefully? If they’d wear suits and ties, white America would totally be down with recognizing their fundamental humanity!

(Like you cannot disapprove of badly trained cops shooting unarmed black people without more forcefully disapproving of burning down a CVS. Like there’s a scale and somebody is recording your tone of voice.)

And after Chicago protests of police killings of Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and Laquan McDonald, some of the smug in Chicago’s press asked why there weren’t Michigan Avenue marches for TV cameras on every single day, because every single day black men, women and children were dying in the city.



As if killings by agents of the state don’t merit protests against the state, but also: You do not get to ignore a thing, and then say that thing does not exist, and then blame other people for your ignorance of their actions: 

CHICAGO — How come nobody is protesting against neighborhood gun violence?

People have been asking variations of that question on social media lately, many of them reacting to recent high-profile protests following the release of the video that shows Laquan McDonald being shot 16 times by a police officer.

But Chicagoans were protesting, marching and engaging in important discussions across the city long before the video emerged … and they still are.


Martinez Sutton, who grew up at 62nd Street and Cottage Grove Avenue, said there are so many protests and neighborhood meetings that it’s hard to keep up.

“It’s always happening. They fight [gun violence], not only in the streets, but they’re trying to get legislation passed. A lot of people think just because you don’t see them in the street, they’re not doing anything. But that’s just not the truth at all,” he said.

Sutton’s younger sister, Rekia Boyd, was fatally shot by a Chicago Police officer in 2012. Following citywide headlines about the Laquan case, the Independent Police Review Authority has recommended that the officer be fired.

Why aren’t you protesting X instead? is just always a way to argue against you protesting anything. It’s just a way to say, “Why am I hearing your voice? Why are you speaking to me like you’re a person? Why are you bothering me? Go away.”

And if it’s pointed out that all along people have been protesting the “right” way, the “right” things, that they did wear suits and ties and got the firehoses turned on them anyway, that they stood calm and quiet and got beaten for it anyway, people who are determined not to see you will keep their eyes closed.

So once and for all time, there’s no perfect way to protest. That’s a useful thing to remember this week, as the RNC gets underway in Cleveland. There is no way to completely insulate yourself from criticism that you are Doing It Wrong. You will always be Doing It Wrong to people who have no interest in seeing you Do It Right.


Sunday Morning Video: Fawlty Towers- The Germans

I showed an except in my Boris Johnson post the other day. Here’s the entire episode:

Saturday Odds & Sods: Wish You Were Here


Street In The Twilight by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner

First, a prologue. There’s been another horrendous terrorist attack in a beautiful place in a country that’s our oldest friend: Nice, France. The French Counsel General, Grégor Trumel, made the following remarks at a Bastille Day event at the New Orleans Museum of Art:

“I think more than ever we should stick to our values together — French people, American people,” he said, citing the national motto of France to hearty applause. “The words ‘liberté, égalité and fraternité’ are stronger than ever.”

Trumel led the crowd in a moment of silence and later, a rendition of the French national anthem, “La Marseillaise.” But before that, Trumel thanked supporters for attending the reception and reminded gatherers that France is not just a country, but an ideal.

“Perhaps for 5 seconds, 3 seconds, we thought that we could cancel the reception, but no — never,” he said. “Never. Never. It would be a victory for our enemies, and we should not compromise with violence, terror and horror.”

In the spirit advocated by Monsieur Trumel, let’s resume our regularly scheduled programming:

It’s been a less stressful week here in New Orleans. The weather remains blisteringly hot but we’ve had the odd bit of rain to cool things down and the tropics are quiet for the moment. Plus, the news from Red Stick may not be good but it’s not as bad as last week at this time. It will simply have to do.

I watched Hillary-Berniepalooza this week. It went fairly well. Bernie was scowling at the beginning but, eventually, warmed to his task. It had the hardcore Dudebros squealing like stuck pigs, which warmed the cockles of my heart whatever the hell those are. Watching it, I realized that if I were casting an actor to play Bernie it wouldn’t be Larry David (who can only play himself) but Walter Matthau circa Neil Simon’s The Sunshine Boys:

Walter Meme

You’ll have to see the movie or play to get the running “enter” gag. Y’all should see it anyway. Have I mentioned lately how much I love Neil Simon? The man knew his way around a joke. His work has become somewhat overlooked. It’s a crime, I tell ya.

Let’s move on to this week’s theme song. I’ve picked two repeat artists, Nick Lowe and Pink Floyd, with different songs with the same title. Nick’s song features the great Paul Carrack on second lead vocal and is pretty darn chipper. The more famous Pink Floyd tune is wistful but awesome nonetheless.

Now that I’ve alternatively pepped you up and gloomed you out, it’s time for the abominable showman to take a bow and go to the break.

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TP Hit The Ground Stumbling

Just when I thought the Trump campaign couldn’t get more unprofessional and inept, these tweets hit my timeline:

Then there’s this awesome screen grab from MSNBC:

The Insult Comedian is an emotionally unstable and erratic man. While it’s true that Mike Pence is a terrible choice, you cannot ask someone to run with you, then snatch the prize away. Pence may be a loser-the Hoosier state GOP wanted him out as Governor-but unless we’ve missed something, he’s not the second coming of Tom Eagleton either. And Trump is certainly no Geroge McGovern. George was a bad general election candidate but he was a fine man and a war hero. Trump is a craven chicken hawk who talks big but runs for cover when the shit hits the fan. That’s why Newt was his perfect number two.

Then there’s the Trump-Pence logo, which emphasizes the TP.


It looks to me like a turd heading toward the crapper much like the Trump-Pence ticket itself. Some have detected phallic imagery, one thing’s for certain they’re going down thanks to their undisciplined and downright crazy candidate. Forget the polls: people want their President to be cool under pressure or at least pretend to be. The Insult Comedian can do neither and don’t get me started about Mike Liar Liar Pence On Fire and his meltdown last year over Indiana’s anti-gay law.

This mishigas has given me an earworm. Its title is the antonym of what’s happened to the Trump campaign today:

PS: I wrote this post on the fly. It was strangely exhilarating. I hope it make sense as opposed to Pence who makes none whatsoever.


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