My Time Was Better Spent with the Gorgon

Today I intended to do some politics.  I read a bunch of articles I checked the various dissidents to see what was ticking them off and I thought about “what this country really needs.”

And I came up with nada.

Basically, the Democrats are convinced they’ve won everything and the country backs them up 100%.  And the GOP establishment think they’ve shut down Trump so they’re pretty smug too.  Well, they’re both mostly wrong but since nothing works better than to give the people what they voted for I can’t think of a thing to say.  Let’s see how bad they screw up the country this coming year.

So instead, I decided to have some fun today.  I did a couple more of those focus stack macrophotography exercises on Nancy Pelosi’s prettier and more personable younger sister, Medusa.

So, this is kind of a bone of contention between Sony and me.  They’ve never provided their cameras with a focus stack capability so I have to use work-arounds.  There’s a Bluetooth remote “commander” that will send a signal to the camera to move the focus back or forth by a small increment and then I can trigger an exposure and then repeat the process by however many exposures needed to get everything in focus piece by piece.  It works but it’s painfully manual.  I also have a tiny software program on my laptop that automates the process but then I have to lug the laptop around in the field.

Other camera makers have added the programming to shoot focus brackets automatically in the camera.  One camera maker, Olympus even has the camera “stack” the bracket into a single composite file automatically.  Now there’s a company that loves its customers.  Sony?  Well miracle of miracles they just added bracketing to the brand new A7R V.  So now the software exists in Sony’s system.  Will they retrofit it into some of the more recent cameras through a firmware upgrade.  Don’t make me laugh!

So here is poor photog, Sony’s laughing stock with his workarounds and his decade plus of Sony tone deaf customer service.  Will he never learn?

Here are some of the bracketed files.

For the first stack I used six files.  This didn’t quite get everything in focus in the first stack.

Next time I took sixteen files and the final product was a lot better.

Dunwich Complainer – Avalanche 2022 (In Rumble-Rama)

Yesterday as I lolled around in my lazy recuperative stupor, I was suddenly aware of a booming sound and the sensation of shaking.  At first, I assumed I was still goofy from the COVID and had imagined it but then I saw that the dogs had picked up on something too.  I thought, “Maybe a truck came down the driveway and banged into the house.  So, I got up and went to look outside.

And what I saw was a boulder sitting on the lower driveway.  I could see where it broke off from the wall.  What I had heard was it falling, bouncing and rolling to a stop.

I was still kind of lethargic yesterday so I left it as, “to be continued.”  Today I felt more myself.  So, I investigated.  It’s roughly 4’X2’X1.5’ and I estimate it weighs about 1,500 lbs.

Looking at the exposed surfaces it looks like over time the rock has been fracturing and finally the weight was too much for the remaining stone to support.  It’s these lousy New England winters.  Freezing and thawing incessantly wreaks havoc with structural integrity.  It’s why I’m the broken-down husk of a man that I am.

So, this boulder is a metaphor for how the world wears down even the best of us and then sends us crashing to earth abandoned and out of sorts like a modern day Humpty Dumpty.  Very sad.  Very abstract, so deep.

But now I have to move the darn thing and then figure out how to prevent the dirt that was being held in place by it from eroding away.  Camera Girl will see me like a modern-day Sisyphus toiling to roll this huge stone up the hill.  What’s next?  The extinction level asteroid strike?  Yeah, why not?

Jackals Eating Jackals at the Shrinking Water Hole

This is hilarious.  Brooklyn Councilman, Ari Kagan whose Coney Island district was eliminated in the latest gerrymandering exercise will switch parties to the Republicans so that he can attempt to steal the Bay Ridge seat of fellow Brooklyn Democrat Justin Brannan.  But it gets better.  Not only is Kagan a Democrat Councilman he’s also a Democrat district leader.  So he’s a mover and shaker in the Democrat party but he’ll officially run as a Republican to steal this seat from a fellow Democrat.

And so far the Democrat party is only hemming and hawing about this political piracy that Kagan is attempting.  They haven’t stripped him of his leadership position or condemned him for the blatant hypocrisy of his actions.  Their only statement talks about taking appropriate steps and a vague warning about his leadership post being in jeopardy.  In other words they’ll wait and see if he wins.  So for the next year he’ll go to party meetings and everyone knows he’s running as a Republican but it’s business as usual.

You’ve really got to hand it to the Evil Party.  They live up to their name in spades.  And somewhere in the background is the Stupid Party allowing themselves to be used in this little bout of political blood sport.  I’m sure Kagan is waving around a promise to really become a Republican and as sure as death and taxes he’ll switch back to the Dems the day after he wins the election.

“Brannan blasted Kagan’s expected move.  “Frankly, I’m embarrassed for him,” he said. “This is just desperate and sad. When you stand for nothing, you’ll fall for anything.””

The old guard in these old cities is losing its political base and they’ll be hacking away at each other over the tiny scraps of safe space that still remain.  The future belongs to AOC and a new generation of nitwits.  Sucks being them.

The Decline and Fall of photog

So just when I assumed I was on the brink of health, tragedy struck.  Of course, in my case it’s really tragicomedy.  Last night I was preparing for bed and I had earlier taken one of those horse pills they call a 12-hour Mucinex.  Now I remembered that this medicine dehydrates the user but I never worry about such things.  I was brushing my teeth and I felt kind of wonky.  The next thing I know I’m lying on the floor near the sink with Camera Girl shouting at me things like, “Should I call an ambulance?” And, “Are you alright?”

Now it was the funniest thing.  I could hear her perfectly well and kept saying, “Calm down.”  But it was as if she couldn’t hear me.  I think she was in a panic.  But it was enheartening to see what a decisive manner she reacted to my impending death.  In retrospect I’m very proud of her.  But in the moment, I finally broke through her fear to convince her that I had just blacked out due to my policy of “sweating it out,” probably some combination of low blood pressure and dehydration.

As I attempted to get up, I discovered I was still clutching my toothbrush.  I flung it toward the countertop but was informed later that I failed in my aim.  Once I convinced Camera Girl that I hadn’t suffered a stroke I gathered my shattered dignity and impaired equilibrium and hoisted myself up onto my feet.

Word of my collapse has spread far and wide in the family.  Relatives were calling up and questioning me on when the burial service would be performed.  Eventually it seemed easiest just to say Tuesday.

This latest manifestation of my mortality has made me think.  I might consider extending my locked bathroom door policy to include tooth brushing.  But realistically Camera Girl is a resourceful woman she’d probably get a screwdriver and pop the hinges off the door.

So, I’ve discontinued the Mucinex and today I’m feeling decidedly chirpier.  Although my balance still seems a little iffy.  I’m attributing this to my ears being clogged.

But this morning I noticed a tender red welt on my jaw line.  I accused Camera Girl of getting me with a sucker punch.  This angered her.  She brought up that she would have had to hit me on the jaw standing behind me.  I defended the possibility gamely.  I said that an upper cut snuck in under the arm I was holding my toothbrush with was highly likely to cause just such an injury.  To her credit she just walked away.  Probably speechless in the face of such blinding intellect.

The less likely possibility is that I hit the sink countertop with my jaw as I was collapsing.  The funny thing is that I never noticed it until by chance I put my hand up to my face today.

Well anyway, I’ve recalibrated my recovery schedule.  I’m hoping by tomorrow morning I’ll be at 65% capacity.  Which is still pretty good.  And I’ll take the rest of today to convalesce and recuperate.  And based on my perusal of the news today I’m not missing anything.  Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for Nurse Camera Girl to spoon feed me my mush.

Welcome to the Hotel California

 

So I’ve returned from the dead.  And it was a transcendental experience.  Like one of those California, peyote fueled spirit journeys that most of the Eagles indulged in back in the 1970s I faced my demons and have come back with enlightenment.  Or at least, I’m five pounds lighter from profuse sweating.

Yes, I have new insights.  For instance, I’ve discovered that every third news story involves Elon Musk, Twitter and Hunter Biden.  And what I realize is that none of this stuff will move the needle at all.  Now sure, Elon Musk can do a lot of good if he turns Twitter into a meaningful business.  And the first thing he should do is come up with a better name.  Twitter just sounds hopelessly lame.  Musk is a tech guy who makes rocket ships.  He should rename it “Atom Smasher” or “This Island Earth” or something cool like that.  But whatever.  The main thing is he needs to make this expensive toy a money maker and a business opportunity that does something useful.  Telling me about past management shilling for the Democrats is fine but it’s old news.

And all the rest of the news is the Republicans reporting on how hated Joe Biden is and the Democrats reporting on how beloved Joe Biden is.  Not exactly must see tv.  There was a little bit of news coming out of Florida.  DeSantis continues to telegraph his legislative and administrative actions.  And that makes him sound more and more like a 2024 candidate.  And that is problematic.

Hopefully DeSantis is smart enough to recognize that the GOP establishment is setting him up to be the Trump-killer.  And hopefully he realizes that attempting to fulfill that role will make him radioactive to at least twenty percent of the Republican electorate.  That is not a good look for him.  A better idea would be to have a sit down with Trump and thrash out a path forward for both of them.  That’s what grownups would do.  And DeSantis would have to swallow a lot of pride because Trump has already attacked him pretty hard in the last month or so.  Let’s face it Trump is one of the prickliest personalities in the world.  He needs a press secretary whose job should be to prevent him from saying anything about people who could do him some good.

But there’s no way around it.  Unless Trump is imprisoned by the Justice Department, he will be the 2024 Republican candidate for president.  And DeSantis is a very young man.  He’s doing extraordinary work in Florida.  Some might say being the governor of Florida is more powerful that being a Republican president of the United States.  He can continue to make Florida the envy of the nation.  And honestly, being Trump’s running mate would be a much, much better idea.  Since it seems that the Democrats have managed to game the Electoral College permanently there’s not much upside to going to war with Trump to possibly get the nomination but certainly alienate the Trump voters and lose in the general election.

So yes, I’m back and I’m surrounded by boring and stupid stuff as far as the eye can see.  By tomorrow I should be energized back to 75%.  And I’ll be able to opine on some of this dreck.  Today, this is what I could do.  Enjoy your weekend.

photog Bound

The men of my family have an endearing trait.  Whenever we’re sick, even to an almost imperceptible degree we carry on like an antique hero in his death agony and expect our wives to baby us to an unhealthy degree.  Now this week as it happened, Camera Girl is seriously under the weather.  She’s been slowly recovering since Saturday.  Today she’s at 60% and improving.  But today I woke up with muscle aches, possibly a slight fever and a headache.

Ahhh, the perfect malady.  Just bad enough to be recognizably sick but not bad enough to distract me from my act.  So, all day today I’ve been an invalid caterwauling about my aches and pains and the bravery I was demonstrating.  Like the great titan Prometheus, I was shackled to a crag in the Caucasus Mountains (or maybe my recliner in the living room).  I could feel Camera Girl going through the slow burn.  It’s a delicate balance.  If I lay it on too thick, she’s liable to poison me or smother me in my sleep.  But with just the right touch, the day is passed for both of us in a tolerable haze of delirium.

I spent the day watching YouTube videos about artificial elements in the island of stability and mockeries of string theory.  With enough aspirin and turkey soup I almost felt human by dinner time.

But later my fever returned and I descended into madness.  To go along with this mania, I put on a pretty bad prison movie from 1947 called “Brute Force.”  Burt Lancaster is a prisoner who stages a jail break to save his wife from a cancer diagnosis.  The pipsqueak, Hume Cronyn is completely absurd as the sadistic captain of the guards.  But as ridiculous as the movie was it was perfect for my delirium.

When Camera Girl addressed me I started changing my “thems” to “dems” and “these” to “deese.”  Pretty soon I told her that no “twist” was gonna tell me how to run a jail break.  I reminded her that no prison could hold me for long and I added for good measure that no one would take me alive.

Eventually I passed out from a combination of malaise and bad acting.  When I woke up a mortally wounded Lancaster tossed Cronyn from the guard tower to the mob below who tore him apart.  Ahhh, those were the days.  No transgender prisoners, no pronouns, just good old prison justice for stool pigeons and screws, see?

Now I’m wrapped up like a mummy trying to keep from getting the shakes.  I think I’m done with bad movies for the day.  I’ll put on some country music and try to sleep my way through the worst of this.  Funny thing is Camera Girl now seems genuinely concerned with my health.  There’s a word in Italian that means pity; peccato.  Of course, in the dialect that Camera Girl’s people spoke back in the old country it was pronounced like “pea-cod.”  Well, my pathetic weakness and whining have finally broken through and I’m garnering the attention and peccato I so richly deserve.  I win again!

My hope is that I’ll be almost human tomorrow.  But one never knows, do one?

Nuclear Armageddon as a Plot Device

Recently Joe Biden made the news when he reversed a campaign vow and stated that under his administration the United States would maintain the right to nuclear first strike as a military option.  Now the idea of Dementia Joe mistaking the nuclear football for his tv remote and ordering up an all-out nuclear blitz on Russia and China while trying to access some kind of hair fetish programming is obviously concerning.

But really this article is more about fiction writing.  In a story that I have been working on (forever) I reached a point in the story where I considered that the best way to escape from the corner I’d painted myself into was by having thermonuclear war break out between Russia and the United States.

Admittedly, that seems like a sad statement on my writing abilities but in point of fact it provided a definitive solution to multiple plot problems I was faced with.  After all, there aren’t many scenarios that can put the US federal government on its heels.  But three 20-megaton thermonuclear ICBMs detonating over Washington is a leading contender.  So, I will confess that I considered the scenario very carefully.

One thing I noticed though is that the impact of a nuked United States is extremely disruptive to a storyline.  Even the most tyrannical US administration looks quite different after the mushroom cloud sprouts over it.  Because now all of a sudden millions of Americans are dead and the ones still living are stunned, scared and desperate for a path forward.  At that point they’d follow Satan himself if he knows where to get food and fuel.

So, everything in my story is turned upside down.  Instead of the plucky rebels fighting the evil feds in a series of hit and run attacks, suddenly they find themselves wondering how they’ll survive without the now non-existent FEMA agency to save them from starvation and hypothermia.  Now what happens to my rebellion story?  All of a sudden enemies need each other just to survive.  Freedom and independence suddenly don’t mean much when staying alive requires all hands-on deck.

So that’s the change in the atmosphere, the feel of the story.  Does it still make sense?  Can the story survive the change?  Not as originally conceived.  I was looking at a series of stories with the rebels taking on the Deep State one step at a time with the rest of the country sizing up the battle and the balance of power gradually tilting toward the rebels.  But now the battle is over but without the dramatic tension and the action.  Instead, we have a tale of catastrophe and dissolution.

And to make that story work will require a change in emphasis.  Now instead of a slowly building wave of battle we have a nuclear wipe out and a tide going out.  Instead of a war with winners and losers we have the flotsam and jetsam from a deluge struggling to survive and trying to rebuild some kind of patchwork of settlements.  That’s a totally different thing.  It becomes a bunch of smaller stories at the village level.  Instead of armies we have farmers and mechanics, men and women and their children trying to survive without supermarkets and gas stations, even without electricity.  It’s nothing like the story I was envisioning but somehow it makes sense.  Because even though we may have forgotten about the atom bomb it hasn’t gone away.  It’s still there and it has its own internal logic that makes it the executioner of last resort.  If we decide that the arc of history bends in our direction and we can do as we please no matter what, we may find that the arc is just the ballistic track of an ICBM.

So inexorably I think the story is telling me to make a turn.  Even as a fictional plot device it does make one pause.  Imagine the largest fifty American cities reduced to rubble and charred bodies.  Imagine fallout killing off a quarter of the survivors.  And food and fuel gone for the rest of the survivors.  The grimness of such a tale is hard to overstate.  How do you tell such a story so that people will want to read it?

Well, that’s a subject for another day.  But this one has helped me get my thoughts in some kind of order.  Okay, hit all those buttons!

Gone Are the Dark Clouds That Had Me Blind

They say that, “Wednesday’s child is full of woe.”  And today was a day of woe for yours truly.  I had to catch up with an assortment of tedious chores.  But I will confess that it allowed me to feel extremely virtuous.  Finally, I’m completely prepared for the first storm of the winter.  Good.

I read a post called “How the Next Civil War Begins” by a guy named B. Duncan Moench.  His ideas fall in line with a lot of things that are floating around in the air.  His version has red states rejecting the results of the 2024 elections and calling for secession.  Well, okay, maybe.  But who knows and it’s definitely not something that debating about is going to clarify.  As the mathematical types might say, the solution of the problem is currently indeterminate.  The boundary conditions are unknown.  Quoting Dr. Flankon in the seminal movie “Matinee,” “Human-insect mutation is far from an exact science.”  And so is predicting the exact schedule of a collapsing empire.  You just can’t rush a revolution.  It’s like a cake in the oven.  Peek in on it too soon and it falls flat.  So, I’ll leave such speculation for when something definitive happens.

Today I was thinking about what a wonderful time it is to be red-pilled.  Now that I can disown the dominant cultural and social institutions of American life, I feel incredibly free and alive.  Once I knew that I won’t have any control over those aspects of the world around me I’ve been able to detach myself from them.  Now I concentrate on the things within my control and try to restrict as much as possible my interactions to people who share my world view.

Someone might say I’m isolating myself from the real world.  But I think it’s just the opposite.  Those who believe in complete absurdities like transgenderism and defunding the police are the ones detached from reality.  I’m part of the community of the sane.  And no matter how fragmented and vilified by the imbecile majority we may be, I have to consider us the privileged ones.  Because we can see.  And walking around amongst the blind is an advantaged position.  We can see where the madness of the crowd is leading and ultimately that should allow us to avoid falling over the cliff with them.

Now granted, sometimes it feels a little lonely to be surrounded by the insane.  There is a certain alienation when most of the people you see around you or online speak gibberish.  But eventually we’ll get used to it and just avoid it as much as possible.  It’s like those reality tv shows.  When they first began to proliferate, I was depressed to think that these were now the entertainment we were supposed to watch.  Eventually I saw that this was just a sorting process.  People could find their own level and gravitate to the entertainment they preferred.  Granted, good things to watch seem to have gotten rarer but the same principle applies today as before.  Mostly it’s a matter of learning how to research what you want.  Whether it’s entertainment or political opinion or news.  You just have to be a little pickier to find what is worthwhile.

And maybe it’s all to the good.  Choosing the company you keep may be the better way all around.  Maybe universal brotherhood is an impossibility.  And as it turns out there are an awful lot of crazy people out there.  Having them self-select to be my enemies may be the best way to go.  It’s like those BLM and rainbow banners on car bumpers and houses.  They give me fair warning that “here be monsters.”  You can’t ask for more than that.

So, thank you Managerial Class, Deep State, Intelligence Agencies and Election Fraudsters for clarifying the situation.  I’ve parted ways permanently from you and yours.  Now you’re just the obstacles that I steer around while I’m living my life.  And you’re the contrast that I can compare my actual friends to.  Good.

Surviving and Thriving as a Permanent Political Minority in America – Part 1

As I’ve made clear since the 2022 mid-terms, I no longer expect the Republicans to be able to win the presidency or majorities in congress for the foreseeable future, if ever.  But that’s not the same as just surrendering to the progressive agenda.  I still think there’s a chance that red state governments may take effective measures to protect their citizens from the evils that the federal government is rolling out even as we speak.

So, what this leaves me to do is contemplate what measures I should take as an individual to insulate myself and my family from the worst of the damage.  And this is the correct strategy.  It’s time to stop imagining we’re going to re-take the federal government.  The Democrats gamed the system so thoroughly and for so long that it’s next to impossible for the Stupid Party to win.  And, honestly, I’m pretty sure they don’t want to.  So, the correct mindset is to identify and perform the activities that you can in order to make the best life for you and yours.

And this is not a small thing.  The benefits you can produce and the problems you can prevent are enormous.  Basically, what you are doing is wrenching back under your control things that the progressives have stolen away from you via school-based propaganda and unconstitutional government actions.  You have to intervene either personally or through private groups or both to produce the outcomes you desire.  And you want to put yourself in places where there are more people that agree with you, people who can be allies and possibly friends.

So, let’s look at some of the examples of things that could be done.

  • School

Here’s one of the biggest impacts you can have on your life.  If you send your children to the public schools and don’t involve yourself in what they are being taught then you deserve to be called a member of the Stupid Party.  The first step is to find out what they’re being taught.  Request to see the lesson plans and syllabus for your children’s classes.  Pay attention to both important subjects like math and science and also the soft subjects like social studies and language.  Find out how extreme the problems are and decide whether it’s possible to allow the children to remain there.  Maybe by talking to your kids about the nature of the disinformation they are being fed you can inoculate them from the damage.  If there isn’t a way to change the worst of it then you must get your kids out.  Maybe this means sending them to a private or religious school.  Maybe it’s possible for them to be home schooled.  But whichever way you affect a change you are probably performing the most important service you can for your children.

  • Local Politics

Believe it or not, even in a deep blue state there are things that you can do to improve the local environment.  At the very least, when you are looking to move to a new home or get a new job look at the complexion of the community you are considering.  Without a doubt there are better and worse choices to choose from.  You can look at the voting record of your town.  You can read up on the referenda that the town has voted on over the last few years.  You can look for the telltale signs of a small town being invaded by the refugees from the local progressive stronghold.  Look at the local test scores of the schools and just look around for what kind of signs the town and the local businesses put up.  If you find yourself surrounded by BLM and rainbow banners then think hard and long about moving there.

Find out if there’s a local Republican Town Committee and go to a few meetings and listen to what they talk about.  Hear what priorities they have.  Ask a few pointed questions about any recent progressive initiatives like low-cost housing or DIE programs.  Figure out if you’ll be in the minority or the majority politically.  And consider getting involved on a town committee if you have the expertise or the interest.  Finance, zoning and budget committees are especially useful.  Get to know your neighbors and let them know you.  That’s how you find allies and maybe friends.  Hiding your head in the sand is how we got in this mess in the first place.

Alright I’ll stop at two for this first part.  But you get the point.  Grabbing hold of your life is the only way to limit the damage the progressives do to you and your family.  Applying this strategy across the whole length and breadth of your life is how you take control and deny the Evil Party from ruining your world.

Losing Our Mittens

In the new environment of rampant voter fraud our electoral objectives become more circumscribed.  Attempting to win elections in places like Pennsylvania and Arizona seems already to be too problematic to get excited about.  But Utah might still work.  So, with that in mind I have selected the primarying of Mittens Romney as the blood sport event of 2023/24.

And it should be a lot of fun.  Romney has already put his best foot forward with the gay marriage bill that he surrendered to.  It won’t be necessary to dig into ancient history to identify his sins against normalcy.  They’re constantly appearing.  Not knowing much about Utah’s politics, I can’t say for sure whether this will be a tough fight but the reward is so high that it’s impossible to forego the challenge.  Surely some champion will step forward and flatten Mitt with a right cross to his glass jaw.

I have been forced to observe Mitt Romney for over twenty-eight years, ever since his failed senate campaign in Massachusetts back in 1994.  In a state like Massachusetts an actual conservative hasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of being elected to state wide office.  Only a spineless creature like Mitt could possibly end up as a Massachusetts Republican governor.  But Mitt managed it handily.  And he dutifully absorbed the slaps and kicks that the legislature and press rewarded him with.  And he never fought back.  He was the perfect whipping boy.

And he has never failed to display his true qualities.  He’s duplicitous, servile and based on his own words without any conservative convictions.  The character from literature that he most reminds me of is Charles Dickens’ villain, Uriah Heep.  He displays humility and obsequity but in reality, he has nothing but contempt for the voters of his own party that he claims to represent.  And deceit is his standard operating procedure.

During the 1994 race Romney was quoted as saying he had no qualms about taking the pro-abortion position.  This while claiming to be a devout member of the Church of Latter-Day Saints that to this day condemns the practice.  It should be rather easy to push the religious fraction of the Utah electorate away from old Mitt just based on that.  I’m sure all the recent immigrants from California in Salt Lake City will vote for Mitt, even if they have to temporarily re-register as Republicans to vote in the primary.  But it seems to me that such a worthy undertaking as kicking Mitt to the curb should be embraced wholeheartedly by all Deplorables wherever they abide.

It’s apparent after the latest demonstration of the failure of Republicans to win at the ballot box that there is no such thing as a sure thing for conservatives in America.   We are embedded in a country that is riddled with progressives and their useful idiots.  But still, it’s important for us to try and enjoy ourselves when there is the possibility of harpooning anything as exciting as the Great White Whale, Moby Mitt.  Booting him out of his senate seat in the primary is just too wonderful to omit.  If any of you have personal knowledge of Utah politics and can share your insights, I’d be very grateful to hear them.  Hell, I might even donate to the cause, it’s that exciting.

Now I’m sure Mitt Romney probably has some good points.  His wife and children may like him, maybe.  Maybe even that dog that he strapped to the roof of his car might have liked him, maybe.  But we don’t have to like him.  And we shouldn’t feel bad wanting to sending him packing.  He’s a billionaire and a phony who pretends to be on our side.  That’s reason enough to want him gone.