The Lessons Of A Fall

Where do I even start, as day after day, week after week, month after month, one wacko thing after another, sitting astonished so many times at what’s said and done that it’s hard to stay astonished. This wrecking ball of insults, lies, and a seemingly insatiable greed, an obsession for more power, to a degree that becomes more clear every single day. A degree of actions so mind-blowingly delusional, unbalanced, gaslighting right out in the open, stumbling from one crisis to another, drunk on power and grabbing for more, it’s like the family business, right, this acquirement, desire of, at all cost, any cost, at such a speed and consistency that you eventually are blinded by the flashing constant strobe light of the rumpT circus.

Down there in the Virginia Court Tent there’s this guy, wearing a suit that cost as much money as possible, broke as a wino on the last day of the month, and this person comes along, maybe a friend of a friend, says hey, you do this thing for us and we’ll help you out of these dire straits you find yourself in. Course, there is a catch, and the catch is that it’s, well, sort of shady, bit illegal, or illegalish, but only if you get caught. And they are sure you won’t, cause it’s only for a short stint, and nothing will come of it, no one will even care, you know, pft, a little smidge of thing. Why not? Buy me that Ostrich jacket I spied with my little eye.

Now appearing, on trial, for that smidge of a thing, may I present – MANAFORT.

{snicker snicker} Well, least that’s the just of it, but that trial is set for September, this one is the trial for the hiding the money part, basically, and the preamble end of last week was the why, and what for, and who, and all that jazz. Now, as of yesterday, we have Gates spilling his corrupt guts as Manafort sits stone-faced in the courtroom watching his testimony.

Nice campaign manager, rumptus, corrupt, money-laundering inside scumbag lobbyist for the Russian mob.

Yep, all the best people, if ya live in the clink, or maybe are the ancestor of Benedict Arnold.

Now, over in the ignorant alternate reality funhouse tent, rumpT can be found lying his bum off to this scary large group that for some reason believe everything he says, and for their own reasons beyond reasonable comprehension prefer to overlook the theme of crooked men that surround their liar-in-chief, and as more of the rumptus’, em, connections are exposed as the swamp feeding greedy guts they are, he’s out there busy twittering that the enemy of the people are journalists? Rich.

Those funhouse alternate reality tent people don’t seem to understand that while you may have the FREEDOM of speech, to say what you want, you also have to take the hits you get for it. Right? So, sure, be a hateful lying piece of poop, if you want, but, N E W S F L A S H, those dissenters have the same freedom that you have. That’s sort of how it works. Eh? Funny, those funhouse alternate reality sorts, like the old-fashioned bearded lady and the lizard boy.

“I think being a liberal, in the true sense, is being nondoctrinaire, nondogmatic, non-committed to a cause – but examining each case on its merits. Being left of center is another thing; it’s a political position. I think most newspapermen by definition have to be liberal; if they’re not liberal, by my definition of it, then they can hardly be good newspapermen. If they’re preordained dogmatists for a cause, then they can’t be very good journalists; that is if they carry it into their journalism.”

[Interview with Ron Powers (Chicago Sun Times) for Playboy, 1973]
Walter Cronkite

And there, large as life, like the ring-master at the Roman Coliseum, feeding the Christians to the lions, the crowd slathering for blood and more spectacle, indifferent, separate, from the slaughter before them, the damage, the truths and lies enacted before them, a distraction for the common folk.

The post-watergate ethical manacles on the President have been thrown aside, with a congress and house of bum smoochers, afraid for their own, and with every unpresidential tweeted lie and half-truth, with every crude social grace, and inept diplomatic stumble, and zero political initiative, but sheer plays for more and more power, playing cruel games with peoples’ lives, indifferent to the long-lasting effects of his signature, as rivers and lungs clog and debt-ridden futures are left for other generations to deal with, what good things can we gain from all this? What happens next?

If nothing else, since the cold war ended, what have the many had to collectively hate? Seriously.

Now we do.

And, we are due for a shift, a change, a new sort of dynamic, as change is required in order to go forward. Change your place, your footsteps to match the road, the coat to match the weather, the lessons from the past, paving the way for the future.

Maybe a future of waste not want not, instead of greed and power. A philosophy of diversity, and appreciation of differences, understanding of the needs of the many, as opposed to merely the needs of a few.

Featured Photo: chalkboard in black & white, by Jan Kroon on

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