Despair Among the Never-Trumpers

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Almost the only good thing coming out of the veritable tsunami of chaos that is our political landscape is how the Republican elites have been literally poleaxed by the loyalty of Trump’s voters.  I mean gob-smacked doesn’t begin to describe their horror.

Here’s an article in the despicable New Yorker that mentions a litany of super PACs and billionaire donors and how all of them are too shocked by the polls to even know where to begin.  Going over some of the advertising that is meant to sway voters away from Trump, the despair that has enveloped the political operatives is quite entertaining:.

“Miller took particular aim at a seven-million-dollar ad campaign recently launched by a pro-Tim Scott super pac, in Iowa and New Hampshire, which emphasized Scott’s likability and included an enthusiastic supporter asking the camera, “Have you seen him work a crowd?” Miller wrote, “Are you f***ing kidding me with this? This is what the money is going to?!” He went on to compare the spot to “using the playbook from a peewee football game to go up against Florida State.””

It’s heartwarming to read just how flabbergasted these soulless bugmen have become.  My favorite were the quotes when the author interviewed that neocon albatross Bill Kristol:

 He sounded pretty depressed about the Stop Trump project generally. “This is where the donors are now: ‘I don’t know, it sort of looks like he’s going to be the nominee, and it looks like he could win,’ and that’s sort of correct. And then now they’re busy talking themselves into ‘You know what? Maybe I’ll just kind of get along with Trump O.K. Why kill myself to, you know, recruit Glenn Youngkin, who’s probably not going to make it? Why don’t I just keep quiet, maybe write a polite check to Trump so I’m not on his bad side, or just stay out of it?’ ”

How hilarious is that?  The donors are thinking of groveling back to Trump.  They literally have no self respect at all.  They just turn with the wind.  And is it any wonder why the Republicans are where they are.  They don’t stand for anything and they don’t believe in anything but being in power.

Well, if Bill Kristol thinks that Donald Trump will be the nominee and could win the White House then I suppose the rest of the spineless Republicans will rally round pretty soon to try and get their piece of the pie when Trump gets back in the White House.  But with friends like these he’s better off keeping the Biden cabinet in place and simply replace them with Mexican drug lords and strongmen from other banana republics.  At least they’re ruthless and he can use them to persecute his real enemies like Bill Barr and Mike Pence.

But seriously what a farce this country’s politics has become.  The hollowness of all the politicians and the bureaucrats is nauseating.  I doubt a single one of them has anything even resembling an immortal soul.  Instead when they die a tiny puff of some noxious gas like formaldehyde or ammonia will be released and then dispersed into nothingness.  And neither heaven nor hell will notice that they ever existed.

But wouldn’t it be the greatest cosmic joke of all time if the Democrat fraud machine couldn’t manage to steal the 2024 election and Trump gets back in and has his chance to fire 60% of the bureaucracy?  I think I’d die happy just knowing that all those lying sacks of crap in the State Department and all those vicious sociopaths in the FBI and CIA were working as baristas in the local DC Starbucks.

Well, I can dream.

Update:

You know I thought I should add that enjoying the suffering of the Never-Trumpers is like a special gift I’ve been blessed with.  Seeing Liz Cheney and Mitt Romney bounced out of the federal government and hearing guys like Bill Kristol crying in their beer is a gift we’ve been given.  Letting them feel a tiny bit of the chaos that they’re responsible for in our lives just feels like justice.  Viva schadenfreude.

The Road Warrior Becomes Reality

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Some animals in Las Vegas steal a car and go on a rampage crashing into other cars and then committing vehicular homicide against a guy riding a bicycle.  He turned out to be a retired California policeman.  It was premeditated and they thought it was hilarious.  Apparently the driver was seventeen so I’m sure it will be excused because of his tender years.

So when do even the blue states realize that normal life as we used to live it can no longer exist without the rule of law?  Maybe we’re beginning to see it starting to happen in the place that was ground zero for the BLM revolution, Minneapolis.  That Democrat woman who had her leg broken during a car jacking in front of her house.  She sounded a lot like a law and order true believer after the fact.  And she used to be a “defund the police” zombie.

Maybe it happens when they realize that cops treating thugs like thugs is how order is achieved.  George Floyd died because he swallowed all the fentanyl he had in his pockets to avoid arrest.  Whatever indignities he suffered before the ambulance arrived were part and parcel of him trying to resist arrest.  When the people of Minneapolis can admit that, maybe they’ll get civilized life back in their city.  Until then they’ll be living in the war zone and getting everything they deserve.

Where the Hell is photog?

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For the last three or four days I’ve been dying.  I guess it’s the latest bout of COVID.  Coughing, congestion, headache, possible heart failure, possible kidney failure, possible dementia; the whole nine yards.  So add that to the arrival of Little Evil Dog and my subsequent abandonment by Camera Girl and you can only imagine the desperate straits I’ve been living through.

I cried out from the wilderness, “Camera Girl, Camera Girl, why hast thou forsaken me?!”

Slowly, slowly, I have stepped back from the very threshold of Death itself.  Today I was able to ingest “hammy eggy” (actually; scrambled eggs, pumpernickel bagel and coffee) and can once again take my rightful place on the cultural firing line.  And my brush with the Grim Reaper has renewed my lust for life.  Everything seems new again.  For me once again Kamala Harris lights up the world with her psychedelic stupidity, her florescent numbskullery.  I long to hear her discuss the space program or quantum entanglement or even school buses.

Give me AOC and Jeffrey Nadler arguing for more homeless migrants in the face of an angry mob of New Yorkers shouting “Build the Wall.”  Give me clips of Joe Biden misreading a teleprompter in front of a crowd of Vietnamese airport baggage handlers.  Let me be serenaded by Mitt Romney providing the Republican case for pedophilia.  It’s all back and it’s all new again.

I feel like George Bailey running down Main Street, Bedford Falls at the end of “It’s Wonderful Life.”  He knows he will be sent to prison for the rest of his life because Uncle Billy is an alcoholic doofus but by golly there’s still that last glass of scotch from Nick at Martini’s.  And where has that Violet Bick gotten to anyway?  That’s a very interesting situation!  Maybe she’s still at the bus station.  Hmmm.

Seriously, I was a little under the weather.  If I had blogged anything yesterday it would have been incoherent at best.  Of course, some might say it wouldn’t have been noticed but I hold myself to a higher standard.  If I can’t remember the laptop password I step away from the keyboard.  It’s as simple as that.

Luckily I didn’t miss anything yesterday.  Our march to Idiocracy continues at its relentless, steady pace.  No more and no fewer than fifty thousand illegal aliens crossed the border.  The requisite number of law suits were filed against Donald Trump and Joe Biden sent another billion dollars to the Ukraine.  God’s in his heaven and all’s right with the world.

As I screech like a baby raven in the nest for Camera Girl’s attention to get my fair share of her domestic and medical care I feel renewed purpose in documenting our civilization’s dizzy descent into the maelstrom of voluntary self-annihilation.  I find myself now calm about witnessing the plunge into Charybdis.  After all, it’s a very important story.  The death of a mighty empire like ours only happens once every thousand years or so.  Recording its death throes is a worthy project and I’ll be following in the footsteps of such worthies as Thucydides and St. Augustine.  Of course mine is more of an Aristophanic or Mad magazine version.  Nevertheless, posterity will honor me.

So here we go.