Showing posts with label Tom Petty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tom Petty. Show all posts

Sunday, January 09, 2022

A Year Too Late

“Well, the good old days may not return/And the rocks might melt and the sea may burn.” Tom Petty, “Learning To Fly.”


Finally, Joe Biden has spoken about the Insurrection that aimed to overturn his victory. The President said the right things and placed the responsibility for what took place that horrible day squarely where it belongs -- on Donald J. Trump. The long silent US Attorney General, Merrick Garland, also made a statement, though by comparison his was tepid and didn’t leave me with the sense that the DOJ will vigorously investigate and prosecute the insurrectionists, including Donald J. Trump. The country needed to hear from Biden and Garland ten months ago, when the wound was fresh and still oozing blood. 

Watching the footage of the attack a year later is no less horrifying. Those were some angry people. Some rage-filled people, most of them men, and most of them white.  

November and December of this year could be a dangerous flash point. The GOP is going all out to retake control of the legislative branch, and if historical trends hold, they will, which would end  Biden’s legislative agenda, such as it is. On the off chance the GOP fails to regain control of the House and Senate, you can be sure there will be accusations of fraud, demands for recounts, independent audits, court challenges, and possibly violence. Trump primed the pump, and now far too many Americans believe that political violence is acceptable. What kind of country will we be if we legitimize political killings? I think Ted Cruz is a dickhead but I do not advocate for him to be assaulted, maimed or executed. Mike Pence is a cowardly cipher and a religious fanatic, but at no time did I want to see him swinging from the gallows. The norm of a peaceful, cooperative transfer of political power has been one of America’s singular strengths, something we all could be proud of, at least until Trump came along and trampled it. Once the people’s votes have been counted, we have always agreed to abide by the outcome. Not anymore. So where does it go from here? Where does this spiral end? Are we just going to contest every electoral outcome, at every level of government? Or simply ignore the outcome by calling it illegitimate? No complex country and society can operate with such a prevailing ethos. Escalating turmoil would result. 

Where are the cooler heads, the good people, the smart and compassionate people, the level-headed, decent, common sense-filled people who accept the fact that Trump lost and Biden won in a legitimate election with a legitimate outcome? There are 81 million of us, give or take, the majority of the country, dispersed across the land, in every city, village, town and hamlet. We’re the fucking majority of Americans, the people who believe we deserve a voice in how the government functions and for whose benefit it functions. We’re living our lives, trying to be decent, tolerant people who raise children to be the same; the kind of people who more times than not do the right thing. The majority of us looked at the four year reign of Donald J. Trump and his sleazy, pathetic, sycophantic entourage, and said, No, enough of this fool is enough. Enough scandal, enough incompetence. We don’t like Trump or the impulses he stands for. We’re smart enough to recognize a conman when we see one. We didn’t vote for him. We, the majority, agree that Trump and his followers are a potential danger to our representative democracy. We wonder why so little is being done, and why so much is being deliberately thwarted. Who benefits? Who pays the cost? 

You know what I want? A society as close to justice as we can get, because that is itself a lofty ambition. Some of us have been poisoned by propaganda and disinformation to act unjustly toward people we do not even know. 

Rules need to be in place to make corruption difficult and wholesale corruption impossible. 

How many Americans honestly believe Joe Biden is an illegitimate President? Is it roughly the same number of Americans who believe Tucker Carlson is a legitimate journalist? 

I’m going to pose the same question I have since November 2020: if the election was fraudulent, how do you explain the strong showing by Republican candidates across the country? If the Democrats rigged the election, why didn’t they rig it to cement control of Congress as well as the White House? Why would they rig it only to secure razor-thin Congressional majorities? At its core the Big Lie makes no sense, it’s a fantasy concocted to protect Trump’s brittle ego. The election was a referendum on Trump, he was at the top of the ticket, and he was rejected by the voters. Down ballot Republican candidates fared just fine, but 81 million voters repudiated Trump and what he stands for. 

I don’t know if America is headed for a social crack-up, but if that’s our shared destination, it will be a tragedy worthy of Shakespeare. All the craven, scheming politicians and media figureheads who precipitated the Rise of Trump to begin with, who didn’t stand up and say NO to Trump’s idiocy, and all the people fooled into cheering for him, who refused to see him for what he is, and will always be, a grifter and conman. Can’t you see that when you are no longer of use to Trump he will discard you like a spent condom? Television is a universe of make-believe and the only industry that Donald J. Trump was successful in. He was shit at the Casino game, which is pretty hard to fuck-up, but Donald John is a rare specimen of elite fuck-up. When it comes to elite failure, my GOAT was George W. Bush, but as I said, Trump is rare. He should be ridiculed and laughed at like a two-headed carnival freak, not revered as a God. America, I ask honestly, what’s wrong with you? Do we really need to do this old dance around the racist maypole? Look, very soon white folk will be a minority of the population. Is that what my fellow white people are afraid of? Why? What’s scary about that? I thought living through Richard Nixon was the low point.  Jesus Christ, compared to Trump, Nixon was a saint.  

Nixon was a twisted fucker, but Trump is many times more dangerous. Trump is a mass media maestro in a mass media age. Reality is what he says it is. Donald needs to go out in the wilderness, naked and alone, and have a refresher course in reality, in the basics of raw survival: food, water, warmth, shelter from the elements. 

Remind me, what is it exactly that we disagree about? What direct harm has been done to you by the government? What harm was done to you by Barack Obama?What’s your beef? 

Trump, Steve Bannon and Roger Stone are the kind of warped people who instigate social unrest and then hightail it to safety on a private jet owned by a real billionaire. Republicans knew what Trump was about from the beginning, yet waited in vain for others of better reasoning ability and morale capacity to step forward to restrain him. Out of nothing but lies, a story of magic and malice was forged. An invention worthy of Hollywood. The King is insane, his wife is a rigid bitch, his children are incorrigible phonies, and yet, some people can’t get enough. I don’t get it. I never will. 

The Right is using all its media power and rhetorical judo to convince enough Americans that what they saw with their own eyes on January 6, 2021 is false. They’re telling us that what we saw wasn’t sedition or a deadly insurrection, but the rational response of Patriots to an epic injustice. Get it? In this rewrite of the script the insurrectionists are the good guys, and the institution they stormed and desecrated is evil. Is this how the idea of America ends?



 




Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Trump's Prison

It's good to be King and have your own way
Get a feeling of peace at the end of the day
And when your bulldog barks and your canary sings
You're out there with winners, it's good to be King

Tom Petty

I feel a minuscule amount of sympathy for Donald J. Trump, but it must really suck to be him right about now, with everything he nears turning to shit and the legal screw turned by Robert Mueller and others tightening, and Democrats in the House preparing subpoenas left and right, night and day, probing and prying into his tangled affairs and murky revenue streams, and refusing to pony up money for the Great Wall. Trump clearly had no idea, none whatsoever, how hard the job of POTUS would be, particularly when you’re one of the laziest, most ill-prepared presidents in American history. In the still of the White House night, when Trump is all alone (Melania having retreated to her own room and dead bolting the door behind her) and the voices inside his head start talking, there’s one, clearly heard above all the others, that says:

“Obama was so smooth, so cool, and he made it look easy, the way he glided around and handled the job, from meetings with foreign leaders to speaking with school children. No batshit, incoherent Tweets at 3:00 a.m., no torrent of demonstrable lies, and no scandals. You’re in over your head, Donald. You’re like a blind mallard flying in the dead of night. You’re an embarrassment. Feeding fast food to college athletes. Jesus, what the hell were you thinking? Are you insane? You don’t invite the National Champions to the White House and serve them Big Macs and pizza. Stupid, no-class meathead. You’re a rich guy with a truck driver’s mentality, except that you’re so pathetic you couldn’t drive a truck if you’re life depended on it. How you think you’re running this country is beyond me. Honestly, Donald, you couldn’t run a meeting of the local chapter of the KKK without fucking it up.”

Daddy’s voice, always Daddy’s voice. Old Fred Trump, the patriarch who taught Donald to lie, cheat, dodge taxes and stiff contractors. Old Fred who bailed Donny out every time he failed, to whom Donny had to come begging, on his knees, hand outstretched, please Dad, I’ll do better next time. But next time is always like the last time. The casinos, the airline, the university. Failure, failure, failure. Three marriages, God-awful children.  

At night Donald paces his bedroom in the hated White House, pissed that he’s not in Trump Tower in New York where he calls the shots and nobody second guesses him, corrects his grammar or ridicules his intelligence. New York, where Ann Coulter can’t challenge his manhood, and porn stars are only a phone call away. Where damn near everyone he has known hasn’t turned on him, cut a deal with prosecutors. It wasn’t supposed to go this way, the run for the White House was a lark, a way to build the Trump brand. Hillary was supposed to win, but who knew she’d run a tepid, inept, tone-deaf campaign? Who knew the American electorate was so angry with the status quo that they were prepared to roll the dice on a wannabe dictator with a kit bag full of skeletons? Why did the stars align so malevolently?

And gnawing at the remains of Trump’s soul is the legacy of Barack Obama, the accomplished black guy with the silver tongue, who could read from a teleprompter and speak in complete sentences, who read books and understood how government works, who actually knew the difference between an executive order and a bill, who understood the function of the Federal Reserve and all the confusing Cabinet departments. Black people are supposed to be inferior to whites! White people are supposed to rule! The Bible says so, it’s the way it is!

The White House is Trump’s prison. Unable to sleep Trump stares morosely out the window and remembers what Putin said in Helsinki. “It’s much easier for me, Donald. I want to make someone disappear, I say the word and it happens. No one can investigate my little side deals. I am master of my domain in a way you can never be. What a pity. Plus, I don’t have man boobs. Take my advice, invest in Spandex.”

Just as the first hint of light appears over Washington, the voices in Trump’s head drone on, and a single tear slides down his face.