What to Expect When President Trump Squares Off Against Chris Wallace at the First Presidential Debate
Chris Wallace, the lefty shill from Fox News will moderate the first debate, which is scheduled for Tuesday, Sept. 29 in Cleveland. Whether Joe Biden shows up either corporeally or even as a hologram, the real debate will take place between the President and Wallace, the lefty Media’s hatchet-man du jour. I expect the first question he’ll address to Joe Biden will be a yes or no question, “Do you agree that President Trump is criminally responsible for all COVID deaths?” Joe may flub this question by thinking it’s about him or by mistaking the term COVID for some kind of video-sharing service but either way it will be up to President Trump to slap Wallace around for most of the night in order to be declared the winner by the viewing public.
And I think he will. President Trump is a savvy media personality and he knows that Wallace is there to try and swing the election for Biden. And since Biden at this point is about as intellectually capable as a flat worm with its head cut off it’s up to Wallace to do the dirty work. And he will. He will go right to the COVID issue and try to portray every death as a crime that the President is responsible for. But let’s face it, Wallace isn’t all that convincing a liar. He always has that smug grin on his face and he always seems to be overreaching with his accusations and innuendoes. I expect the President to drill down into Wallace’s accusations and push back very hard. I hope the President calls him a liar and a lefty shill because that is exactly what Wallace is. Chris Wallace is a poor man’s version of the commie that his father was. Mike Wallace had gained credibility based on his long association with the news industry’s icons of yesteryear like Walter Cronkite and his work on the old television news series Biography and 60 Minutes. But his son hasn’t got the gravitas that the elder Wallace had or his sonorous voice. Chris’s voice is more of a nasal honk that annoys a lot of listeners. I confess I will be disappointed if Wallace doesn’t get knocked around in these exchanges. He really needs a good smackdown performed on him.
Now looking at the Biden component of the event, I am curious to see if his handlers try to use an ear piece to feed answer to Slow Joe. That would be fun to watch. Maybe we can pick up the signs that he is listening to an audio message. I wonder if the Secret Service has the capability to jam radio transmissions around the people they are protecting. And I wonder if the White House will have any kind of surveillance that picks up that kind of thing going on. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if after the debate an audio recording of someone prompting Joe were uncovered? Well, I shouldn’t be too greedy. I’ll settle to just watch and listen as Joe does his Biden act and eventually starts umming and uhhing at the end of every sentence he attempts to make.
And who knows, maybe they’ve loaded Joe up with pep pills to cut through the fog and he won’t embarrass himself. But as long as the President goes on the attack about the substance of Biden’s long and undistinguished record in government it will be enough to carry the night.
So, sure I’ll be watching. It could turn out to be a lot of fun. I just hope Joe doesn’t get flustered and wanders off into the crowd. He’d be bound to start sniffing hair and rubbing shoulders and even I have limits on what I’ll watch on tv.
Wild turkey has a flavor totally unlike domestic turkey. They feed on insects, acorns and other goodies. Just as wild rabbit tastes better, in my opinion that tame rabbit. When mom was laid up in hospital one year before Christmas, I went up to dad’s and cleaned and cooked for him. My own dear wife had passed on by then. I took up three squirrels I had shot and the first meal I made for him was mashed sweet potatoes covered with squirrel gravy. Sauté the squirrels in a cast iron pan in butter until the meat falls from the bones. Then keep cooking it until the butter browned, add the flour and brown the resulting roux, then put in the milk and make gravy. He ate so much I thought he’d choke. Mom had been sick for weeks before her hospitalization so they had been eating mostly carry out or delivery fast food. Dad would only eat so much fast food before he just stopped eating. I also made him some pie crust cookies. He liked it so much we had leftover squirrel gravy and biscuits for the next two breakfasts
I made pork tenderloin fried in that cast iron skillet, baked him an apple pie after making the pie filling in the skillet (par cooking the filling means less liquid to ruin the crust). and then as a Christmas present, I bought them one of those spiral-sliced honey hams. I took most of the meat off it and we had ham for breakfast most mornings, and I froze a lot. Then I took the bone and the meat off the bone and put it in a pot of beans and put it in the oven for 6 hours on low. Hot damn, was it good. Made cornbread to go with it. When mom came home and was able to take over her own household again dad tried to get me to stay a little longer and cook. Mom was a great cook, but she insisted dad needed healthy food at his age. I just fed his belly with what he liked as a child.
It is not reason which is the guide of life, but custom.
Late every summer the entire extended family would get together. I mean the “very extended” family. Both my grandfather’s and grandmother’s families and their children and grandchildren. The men would seine the pond in the cow pasture behind the house I grew up in. All the bigger fish they caught would be cleaned and fried that same day for a giant fish fry. My grandmother made the world’s greatest hush puppies and coleslaw to go along with the fish. Come to think of it, I need to see if I can find her hush puppy recipe from one of my aunts. We only had large-mouth bass and little bluegill bream in that pond. I still love bream more than any other fish I’ve had.
This past summer I took my boys to Walmart and got them both fishing rods. Then I pulled my old rods out of my parent’s building and got the reels working again (they hadn’t been touched for 20+ years), and showed my boys where to look for worms. I took them to that same pond and taught them how to fish. We caught several decent sized bream and a couple small bass that first evening. It was enough to take home, clean and fry so my boys (and my wife and daughter, too) could get an idea of how good “real” food can be.
A few days later I managed to land a bass that topped 6 pounds. I got her off the hook cleanly and let her go back in the pond. Maybe one of us will hook her again someday.
I’m trying to give my kids memories like mine. I took my older boy squirrel hunting with my dad last fall. I’m looking forward to more of that this year. Squirrel hunting was one of my favorite pastimes growing up. My best friend and I spent countless hours out in the woods with our little .22 caliber rifles. Would you believe that squirrel tastes like chicken?
By now, the squirrel population behind my parents’ house has recovered nicely. I’m talking to my wife about getting my older boy a rifle for his 13th birthday in a month. Hopefully I can pass along that love of hunting and fishing to him. So far, he’s truly enjoyed it, and I’m encouraged by that. He might just be a better shot than me soon. While I’ll hate to admit it when he finally is, inside I’ll secretly be elated by it. Now to start working on his little brother…
My grandfather used to complain about Canada Geese. I’ve never had it, but apparently it was not uncommon as a Thanksgiving meal a couple generations ago. Grandad told me that the problem with them was that you had to soak them for hours before you cooked them because they ate so many of the wild onions that grew around here the meat tasted too much like onion. He said it smelled bad when you cooked it…to the point that you had to leave the house. He could exaggerate at times though, so I don’t know exactly how serious he was.
Several years ago, those same wild onions came up in a conversation I had with my dad. I was asking about milk cows and how many cows a family of 5 would need. Despite growing up with cows on the farm I had no idea because grandad raised beef cattle when I was growing up.
My dad, on the other hand, grew up milking cows. He told me that their family of 6 had so much milk from two cows that they threw half of it out every day. They had enough for milk for all its various milky uses and even enough cream for my grandmother to churn her own butter. I asked him why they threw away half of it and he told me it was because of the wild onions! Of course, that made no sense to me and further questioning revealed the rest of the story: they threw out the evening milk because the cows would be grazing in the pasture all day and the onions made the milk taste bad, so they threw it out. They only kept the milk from the morning because the cows were in the barn all night munching on sweet hay and the morning milk tasted good. I still haven’t decided if a couple milk cows are in our future or not though.
I was just enjoying a sampling of left-wing panic articles about the prospect of a pre-election selection of RBG’s replacement on the Supreme Court. You know it seems like only yesterday that the press and the Democrats were employing libel and slander on an industrial scale against Brett Kavanaugh without any concern for how it poisoned any possibility of civility or bipartisanship in the Senate. And now they are hurling around terms like hypocrisy and unconscionable when talking about the Republican senate voting on a replacement for RBG. They’re saying it’s inappropriate and uncivil and cruel. Well, isn’t that special.
You know above and beyond how good it would be to decrease the number of lefties on the Supreme Court I am just overjoyed to see the Left shrieking and howling about this situation. These are horrible people and anything that makes them angry and/or afraid is a gift from heaven and “a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.” It is wonderful to see a milquetoast fellow like Lindsey Graham feeling his oats and maybe even displaying a little schadenfreude toward the colleagues that put him and the rest of the senate Republicans through hell during the Kavanaugh hearings. Seeing him get up on his hind legs and sound like a man just shows what the Democrats have stirred up with their scorched earth approach to hard ball politics. They’ve made lots of enemies and when they need friends there aren’t any colleagues on the other side of the aisle willing to reach across to lend a hand. And after having their hands bitten before who could blame them?
And it is said that McConnell has the votes. Of course, that is horse trading and maybe they’ve paid off Romney to keep him from stabbing us in the back again or maybe that one extra vote from Pence is all that’s needed to put them over the top. But just the fact that President Trump and Mitch McConnell are game enough to go forward speaks volumes about how this presidency differs from the lame Republican administrations of the past. Bush I and Bush II would have acquiesced as soon as the first shriek from the harpies was reported in the press. In fact, even after giving in to them the Democrats and the press would still have taken the opportunity to pillory Bush as a monster for even thinking of such a hate crime.
When President Trump heard that Pelosi was threatening to impeach him again. His answer was that he hoped she did. Now that’s the right answer. Never back down, never apologize for doing what makes sense and hit back at them any way you can. And just as a point of information didn’t Dorothy dropped a house on her back in 1939? Or was it a pail of water?
I expect a concerted effort after the announcement to vilify the candidate any way they can. Of course, since it’s going to be a woman the rape angle is going to be a really hard sell. Maybe they’ll try to find a girl from her high school or grammar school that claims the applicant was mean to her. It’s a little weaker than the Kavanaugh treatment but they’ll have to go with what they can make up on the fly. If necessary, they’ll have a séance and have the ghost of RBG denounce the nominee as not a real woman for lacking abortion enthusiasm.
Feeling this happy about the suffering of some of my fellow human beings might be taken to mean that I’m a terrible person but I believe that if Mother Theresa were alive today, she’d be on my side. These are awful people and them getting their comeuppance is poetic justice.
Anyway, another good week for the President. Onward and upward and make the Lefties squeal like stuck pigs.
The greater part of mankind may be divided into two classes; that of shallow thinkers who fall short of the truth; and that of abstruse thinkers who go beyond it.
There’s nothing like a home smoked ham, is there? Uncle Dana liked his bacon. Autumn also meant that Grandma opened up the first of the bread and butter pickles she had put up the year before. Absolutely delicious. She always allowed them to sit a year in the dark root cellar before she served them to let the flavors mingle. Autumn was also the season for putting up apples and pears in jars. You make simple syrup and leave it plain, or add cinnamon or mint (makes the jars ruby red or emerald green). They have to sit for at least a year. Grandma (and my mom) also made jars of pie filling. Apple, peach, apricot, mixed berries. strawberries with rhubarb, pumpkin and sweet potato. That way you had filling ready for making pies after they were in season. Both my grandfathers were partial to grilled tenderloin or fish tail sandwiches and autumn was the time to eat them as the tenderloin was fresh from the hog slaughter. Us boys would make a weekend trip to Lake Erie and catch a mess of perch and walleye and we’d have a big family fish fry. The catfish we had was locally caught. Perch, walleye, catfish and crappie were the staples. If we were lucky the white bass would run in the local creek and we could bag a mess of them, too.
Fresh game was good, Rabbits, pheasant, quail, grouse, duck, Canada geese and deer. Me and my brother still make our own venison summer sausage.
Aye, we had good times, didn’t we?