Jan 23, 2024

January 22, 2024: Goodbye Death Sentence, Where Anti-Woke Went To Die, His Miserable Ass

 

Governor Ron DeSantis, otherwise known as Governor Death Sentence, has finally withdrawn from the race. I call him Governor Death Sentence because his wretched campaign not only cost over 150 million dollars but, according to Chris Hayes of MSNBC, some 87,000 lives in Florida as a consequence of his uninspiringly ignorant and incompetent handling of the pandemic.


 Others have made similar observations. His response early on was one of competence as he led the nation in rapid response, closing down the state in the early weeks as the nation was swept by the disease. Then, just as the vaccine was being introduced, Death Sentence changed course, his judgment addled by Potomic Fever, a condition that plagues every politician that emerges upon the national stage. We've been over this before in these columns: an emerging politico at some point looks in the mirror and imagines himself, or herself, in the Oval Office, staff and servants at beck and call, flights on Air Force One, meetings with heads of state, “Hail to the Chief” ringing in their ears. Soon a fever takes hold and they become blinded by ambition. Gyrating on stage, careening from town to town, they become almost laughable as they contort themselves into hopelessly grotesque parodies of themselves.


In the case of Death Sentence it happened all too early. Fresh from a resounding victory over a moribund Democratic opponent, himself a former Republican Governor of Florida, and a nearly non-existent Democratic Party, and backed by special interests, Death Sentence began preening on national television, notably nearly nightly appearances on Rupert Murdoch's Faux “News”. He passed and signed legislation making it lawful for motorists to run down protesters, he led a campaign to ban books in libraries and schools, he openly campaigned against Donald tRUMP's vaccine reopening the state far too early causing tens of thousands to needlessly die. He signed greater voter restriction laws, publicly arrested blacks and Latinos for voter fraud, their innocence only later revealed. He fired his state health director and appointed a complete ignoramus who openly waged war against Dr. Fauci and the administration in Washington's attempt to reign in on the pandemic. Disease spread; the Bubonic Plague and Leprosy began reappearing in Florida.


But Death Sentence, wearing ignorance like a crown, proceeded undeterred. He declared war on Disney, Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse for Christ's sake, the state's largest employer and, with the cruise industry, a major source of tourism. He openly spoke of 'slitting throats' declaring that Florida is “where woke comes to die”.


This was, of course, the snarling politics of grievance and retribution, an attempt to out-tRUMP tRUMP; to be more disgusting than Caesar Disgustus; a task he must soon have found daunting.


I could have told him two years ago that the enterprise would be a fool's errand. Just what was the hard, cold political calculation that would justify such expense, so so much damage, and cost so many lives. Surely anyone with any political acumen would soon realize that there was no lane to the nomination. You can't out scum the king-hell scumbag of the century.


He tried to outflank tRUMP by running to the wrong of Disgustus, attempting to out fascist the fascist. But, alas, Disgustus is a greased pig, difficult to hold down, accomplished at throwing shit in every direction.


Nevertheless, beset with the 'Fever', Death Sentence soldiered on, his legislative record now on the books, he stepped into the ring.


It was not a fortuitous beginning. Eschewing, as if giving the middle finger to the “Mainstream Media”, long the bugaboo of the idiot wrong, Death Sentence took to “Shitter”, now owned by Elon Musk and re-branded for some inane reason “X”. It was a disaster as those few who logged on were treated to twenty minutes of silence and occasional background noise as the campaign struggled mightily to get online before the audience evaporated. The faux pas made all the headlines. It didn't get much better as the campaign droned on.


There are accounts of how it was the image of Donald tRUMP was fashioned on NBC. As the network was setting up The Apprentice apparently the producers went to tRUMP Tower and discovered that not only his office was unsuitable for a would-be billionaire, but nobody would believe that Disgustus had such wealth judging from the tattered and shopworn furniture. Accordingly, not only was the show scripted, reality television is actually contrived fantasy, but the network commandeered the stage upon which the weekly broadcast of Saturday Night Live is produced and rented the furnishings creating the boardroom in which stage hand Noel Casler contends tRUMP regularly shit himself. In any case, this fantasy, this projection, perhaps tRUMP's singular accomplishment in life, embedded itself through over a decade of repetition into the skull of America.


First impressions are lasting, especially on the national political stage. Just ask George C. Wallace who forever is remembered for briefly standing in the schoolhouse door blocking integration of the University of Alabama. Death Sentence would find himself running against America's imagined tycoon, master astride a great empire, a self-proclaimed expert in every field. The country was led to believe it, at least enough of the country, for Disgustus to sneak in the back door of the White House. 


Against this Juggernaut, young David approached with his sling the blathering, lumbering, foul-smelling Goliath.  But he lacked the courage of his ambition. Given an opportunity to openly declare that he would not support Caesar Disgustus should he gain the Party's nomination and yet be convicted of a felony, DeSantis and everyone else on the stage save Arkansas Governor Asa Hutchinson and New Jersey's Chris Christie demurred.


There were at least two flies in the ointment; two flaws in the political strategy of our Governor Death Sentence. First, one cannot run against someone like tRUMP by being a “mini-me”. Why vote for Disgustus-lite when you can have genuine disgusting. Second, and more importantly, let's say you do defeat the scumbag and gain the party's nomination. What will he do? You have to know what he'll do. He'll run as a third party candidate, write-in candidate, or tell his followers to stay home. He'll whine that the contest had been rigged and that you and your conspirators had stolen the nomination—always rightfully his. Hell, he might even endorse Joe Biden.


So there never was a lane for Death Sentence to win the White House. The only benefit of this long miserable exhibition is that, perhaps, we will have seen the last of his miserable ass. One can only hope.



January 17, 2024:

Dec 31, 2023

December 29, 2023: Lord of the Flies, Beset and Beshit, Cannot Fool a Maggot

 

While making a rare campaign appearance in Iowa a few weeks ago, Caesar Disgustus was beset by a fly. There is something odd about the attraction flies have for ReSCUMlickans, the last Vice-Presidential debate immediately leaps to mind. Disgustus, harrowed by the flying insect, loudly protested his hate for flies. He should be careful flies produce maggots, and his maggots were in attendance.


It shouldn't come as any surprise; flies are attracted to shit. And there stood Donald J. tRUMP, beset and beshit.


Rumors have been circulating for years. Noel Casler, stage hand and celebrity handler who worked on the Celebrity Apprentice openly relates how tRUMP would, in a state of rage, shit himself on stage, that he wears adult diapers and has no control of his bowels.


All of this had lurked beneath the radar until recently when Adam Kinzinger, former Illinois Congressman and member of the January 6 Committee, asked on social media why no one has mentioned the stench that accompanies tRUMP's arrival. Suddenly the subject has gone 'viral' as the internet has lit up over speculations and confirmation that tRUMP does indeed smell like shit.


Suddenly, we were treated to videos of tRUMP farting, or shitting himself, in meetings with department heads and congressional leaders, the late Senator Dianne Feinstein being one soul unfortunate enough to be assigned a seat next to him; Turkish President Erdogan being another. It is no wonder that his wife won't ride in the same car with him.


Could it be that the 'orange' patina daily applied is not cosmetics at all but shit smeared upon his face? Nothing would surprise me. It explains his undying and unyielding support among his maggots who feed off such substance. This is what happens when one snorkels in the septic tank. In any case, one cannot fool a fly, drawn inexorably to shit as a filing to a magnet; you cannot fool a maggot either.




December 22, 2023

Nov 30, 2023

November 30, 2023: At Long Last, Kissassinger is Dead, War Crimes and Treason

 

Henry Kissassinger is finally, at long last, dead. He lived for a long century over half of which should have been spent in a penitentiary for war crimes as well as treason.


He began his sordid career as an analyst, playing war games, principally nuclear war games dispassionately calculating the relative millions that would be vaporized in the next war. He is said to have inspired the character in Stanley Kubrick's film "Dr. Strangelove".  He rose rapidly, working as a pentagon functionary flittering around the National Security Council in the Johnson administration while at the same time courting Republican Nelson Rockefeller, and later Richard Shithouse Nixon, during the presidential campaign of 1968. It was Kissinger who, using his connections with the U.S. delegation at the Paris Peace Talks, sent word to Nixon that a deal was all but done and would be concluded before the upcoming 1968 election. Nixon then sent word via Madame Chenault, a Filipino emigre married to an American Air Force officer with connections in Saigon, that the government of Nguyen Van Thieu should stall at Paris in anticipation of a better deal if Nixon were to win the election. It was Kissassinger who wormed his way into the emerging Nixon administration by selling out his adopted country.


Later, as National Security adviser, it was Henry who engineered the bombing of Laos and Cambodia, with orders to “kill anything that moved”, It was Henry who engineered the overthrow of the Allende government in Chile ushering in Augusto Pinochet; It was Henry who orchestrated the overthrow of the government of Argentina with similar results; it was Henry who supported the slaughter in East Timor by the Indonesian government. By some estimates Kissassinger was responsible for the deaths of some six million souls.


He gained his position by exhibiting a level of obsequiousness rare among subalterns. I used to regularly refer to him as “Kissassinger” because of his constant fawning before power. I had read the White House Transcripts published by The New York Times as the Watergate scandal was unfolding. Later my wife queried me about my use of the moniker, and then a television production based upon a verbatim reading of the Transcripts demonstrated the legitimacy of my characterization. “My god,” Kate exclaimed, “he really is a kiss ass!”


Nixon, whenever he needed reassurance, would call Henry into his office. “What do you think of my speech last night?” he would inquire. “Oh, Mr. President, that was the greatest speech I've ever heard, one of the best ever given by a president”, Kissassinger would intone. "You really think so?" Nixon would press him.  "Oh yes, Mr. President, it was beautiful, it was forceful, especially when you gave it to your enemies!", Henry would, on cue, bow and scrape in order to gain influence.  

He saw himself as the modern Metternich, the principal architect at Vienna, forgetting that Metternich fell prey to the machinations of Tallyrand.  Nevertheless, Henry soldiered on imagining himself, in the tradition of Metternich and Bismark, the modern practitioner of "realpolitik".  It was a grandiose proposition given the limited intelligence and vision of his main protagonist; for his imagined 'new world order' would not produce a 'century of peace' as Europe had known in the aftermath of the Congress of Vienna but wouldn't outlast his lifetime. 

Indeed, his famous Peace Accords of 1973 didn't even end hostilities in Vietnam and would lead, in a little more than two years to the collapse and defeat of our South Vietnamese allies finally ending the war.  Kissassinger, nevertheless, accepted the Nobel Peace Prize for 'ending' the war, which his counterpart North Vietnamese Le Duc Tho refused to accept.  


He got rich in the bargain, opening up the far east, normalizing relations with China, Kissinger and Associates raked in millions mining the relationships with the Communists, acting as a gopher for multi-national corporations and the crony capitalists in Peking and Moscow.


He evaded prison, got filthy rich by selling out his country, posturing for decades as the senior statesman—the go-to-man during every international incident—on network television. He was one of the few in the Nixon administration to survive with his reputation intact. He should have been left rotting in prison.


Kissassinger is, at long last, dead. We can breathe a sigh of relief; the world is a now a better place.



November 5, 2023: Legacy of Guy Fawkes