Unfit to Serve

Personally, I wouldn’t want Donald Trump serving me at a Waffle House, but the White House is definitely a bridge too far.

The smiley picture accompanying these thoughts is from June 12, 2017, when he invited/coerced his shabby corrupt Cabinet into praising him and thanking him for the opportunity to serve Donald Trump. That was the day I put aside any doubts that Trump is mentally ill.

I assume Donald was frowney when he sent his latest, tasteless tweet-by of a talk show host. The reason that he was smiley one day and frowney the next is that Donald Trump doesn’t know who he is. He has no sense of self. And he looks to the world to give him an identity and let him know how he should feel about it.

When he receives praise (even phony ginned-up praise) he feels good. When he is trashed, he feels bad, has a tantrum, lashes out. He also has no “public face.” With Angela Merkel (yet another woman smarter and more capable than Donald), he couldn’t hide the hurt from her criticism. Pouted in public with her. Kicked rocks.

And then there’s the fact that Donald suspects … he can’t let himself admit it … that he is and always has been a fraud. That there is no one behind the curtain except a bunch of Russian gangster bankers. And tic tacs.

Pence might be worse – meaning more competent at doing horrible shit to the country – but we can’t let Donald Trump continue as President. He is a danger to himself and others.

Measures must be taken to remove him. Impeachment, the 25th Amendment, even a standard 5150 might do.

O, America

After all these years, we can’t manage to provide basic health care for all?

Why?

So we can keep pretending the market will find a solution to problems it hasn’t found yet. And never will. The “market” – at least the way Americans play it – isn’t about problem solving or anything else save making already rich people and corporations even richer, usually at a cost to the poor. We Americans don’t have the character to find private solutions to public problems. We’re missing some essential part.

I know the practical reasons we’ve made a hash of this issue for decades. The political reasons. All the Dark Money reasons from the Dark Money players. But I don’t give a shit about those things anymore. And I can’t keep blaming them.

The problem is us. Some hole in our hearts and souls that no amount of increased poverty and suffering can heal. An utter inability to think and act in concord for the good of all.

I’m going to skip Fourth of July this year. I’m just not in the mood for fireworks and flag waving. I’m too ashamed. And I’m starting to realize… as I look back on our history and on a personal history which now exceeds 60 years … that America was ever thus. We were always this mean.

Is there a bigger dunce in this Confederacy of Dunces than Devin Nunes?

I don’t know why I hate him so much, just the sight of him boils my blood. He’s a sniveling little weasel doing what he’s ordered to do by the Trumpets … apparently because he, too, has received Russian money for one of his paltry investments … but he’s so BAD at it. All of it. The lying. The jack stories he concocts to cover his tracks, which are always uncovered. His inability to stand still without cringing or flinching.

Devin Nunes … I keep wanting to call him Nevin Dunes and give him a pencil mustache … looks guilty when he first wakes up in the morning. He’s done something bad in the night. Peeked through a hole into the adjoining bathroom. Thought wrong thoughts. Wrong! And then it escalates from there …. Devin walking, Devin avoiding, Devin fleeing, Devin trapped and forced to approach a microphone.

And then Nevin Dunes opens his mouth to speak!!! His vocal quality is somewhere between a robocaller and cats fucking. I can’t listen for more than a minute or two.

Nevin … sorry, Devin … won’t be able to keep this up for much longer. He’s bound to crack. Prediction: on the witness stand when it comes to that, he’ll cry and cry and cry. Blame everyone from Trump to his mother. Wipe his eyes with his dunce cap.