Most presidents have had a hand-picked team of advisors, different people with different life experiences, varied ideas, a library of knowledge considered the cornerstone, a group that most presidents have valued and chosen to draw wisdom from.
Of course, there is no place at the 45ths table for anything that may fashion itself as ‘wisdom’. No chair reserved for a point of view at odds with his own, no room for the intellectual, the experienced, and certainly no room for compassion, civil rights, human rights, or any of that which historically has been the guiding principle at the heart of a democratic and humane government of this modern era. No place for order, no room for strategy, nor discipline, a place where honest opinions are silenced.
Honour gone like a fart in the wind.
The delicate nature of the presidents’ ego is incapable of allowing descent, ego-driven as he is, therefore the fragile psyche of the man is of sole concern to those who have to work with him.
Wiping sweat from his worried brow his minions greet him in the coolness of that house of white, when he returns from another teleprompter speech; slurred and stinted words ignite twitterverse into whispers, speculation, wonder, watching him dissolve, waiting.
Dear old patience, that illusive virtue we work hard to maintain. Patience that in time the ego and incompetence he exudes like putrid cologne would take him that step too far, and we watch as he white-washes and repeats all the same mistakes, but with more and more egregious gusto.
I’ve often wondered if maybe Pelosi’s plan all along was to give him enough rope to hang himself with? Maybe so, maybe so.
For me anyway, I think the best part of patience, why we wait, why we stand back and let the cookie crumble as he may, yes, the best part? Ok, least for me I think it is when piece by piece you watch the players (pawns?) move across the board, watch the mistakes, the misjudgments, the wrong turns.
Watch as obstruction of justice and payoffs to porn stars become almost trivial, as new crimes come to light, such as enriching oneself at the expense of the tax payer, profiting off the presidency.
We watch as shady characters from around the world play the age-old game of I scratch your back you scratch mine, and hand over the requisite amount, bada-bing-bada-boom, they get themselves a room for a night or three weeks at a Trump property, and with that buy themselves his ear.
That right there? Garden variety corruption, and really doesn’t get much more corrupty then profiting from the presidency.
Tis a fine thing, watching as it unfolds. We watch him walk right in and sit down comfortably with that thing leaders in government must restrain themselves from.
Yeah, as if the rumpTus has ever restrained himself.
Everyday more – another con, another corruption, another lie – his ego is his weakness.
And another one bites the dust. Bolton, is gone like toilet paper, yelling “I QUIT, I QUIT, he never fired me”, as he swirls away.
Will he come back another day? Will he partake in the tell-all tales the plebeians desire? Will he tell all the salacious details? Will it be a feast, or a famine, devoid of delusion and mayhem?
Bolton was a major hawkish warmonger, and America is much safer without him, but why on earth would that idiot and chief even choose him to begin with? Thought he could keep him hooded and leashed? Guess Bolton wouldn’t play.
So, now 45 is looking for his 4th National Security Advisor, looking for someone willing to serve under one of the most corrupt and deranged presidents in American history? Should be fascinating to see who he manages to dredge up from the bowels of conspiracy theorists and alt-right extremists that circle this administration.
It boggles my mind though that there are so many that think this is all just a game, a sick and twisted game of who can entertain the plebs.
I mean, one day 45 announces he’d backed out of talks at Camp David on 9/11 with the fricken Taliban, and a few days later he punts, or Bolton punted himself?
I mean, besides the nut-jobs who thinks 45 is divinely chosen, or the white supremacist terrorists stalking the streets of America with AK-47s, there are still those who seem to just be along for the ride. Standing by watching the country unravel before their eyes, the spectacle, the libtards head-spinning, not once looking around as their country falls another step down into an authoritarian regime, they just stand at his rally’s and clap their hands in glee; oblivious.
Because, it’s ok, they’re being entertained. It’s OK, they don’t need no stinkin’ dignified and respected president, more entertaining to watch this cast of characters of ill-repute break the law, as TV personalities suck on light bulbs from plastic straws, and dead bodies strewn down Main Street U.S.A., they’re silence bought and paid for by the NRA.
Just another day at the shit-show.