As ‘we the people’ are split apart with a well-placed wedge stuck in a crack in a log, and deftly knocked, splitting down the centre, as he settles his generous white butt into that house of white down yonder in the land of my birth. Which, by the way, is why I care, and, well, and my Dad’s Dad’s family are news junkies, so it’s … Continue reading And The Ghost Of Robert Jackson Appears Stage Left