Dr. Seuss Lays An Egg

 ("6 Dr. Seuss Books Will No Longer Be Published Over Offensive Images")

Dr. Seuss Lays An Egg.

Oh the thinks you can think, and  Theodor Seuss Geisl did. He thought about this, he thought about that, he even thought of a cat in a hat.

And some of his work focused on topics ranging from the environment, to materialism, to racial equality, to "America firstism". But he would admit he was not equally proud of all of his work, some containing shortcomings that are today the focus of our conversation.

Dr Seuss, 30 years after his death, continues to educate our children, continues to be an enormous guide in their development. Maybe one lesson now to be learned is of our ability to change for the better as we grow.

Oh the places you'll go. If only you try.

Live Free and Die

 ("Texas Drops Its Virus Restrictions as a Wave of Reopenings Takes Hold")

 Dr. Fauci, why do you even bother?

A year later, more than a half million are dead. On average, and now not declining, more than 65,000 infected each day. And where this illness attaches, death is certain to follow for thousands upon thousands.

And yet, as we now have three effective vaccines, as we are so tantalizingly close to the end of keeping our lives on hold, we invite Covid into bars, restaurants, offices and, without doubt, our homes.

Throughout this pandemic have we not learned the lessons of letting down our guard? How many died after the Sturgis motorcycle rally Governor Noem greeted with open arms and a maskless face? How many more will have to suffer unnecessary death?

The message so many of our leaders across this country are now sending out is but a terrifyingly sad alteration to the state motto of New Hampshire. "Live free and die." 

Dr. Fauci, if a tree falls in a forest and no one hears it does it make a sound?

TFG

 ("Trump's Republican Hit List at CPAC Is a Warning Shot to His Party")

I am overwhelmed with gratitude that the month long respite in Florida did nothing to dampen that wonderful fighting spirit. 

As TFG (the former guy) teleprompted his way through the names of those Republicans he will spay or neuter, regaled the Mensa meeting with tales of the election that never was and thrilled the crowd with the possibility that 2024 will bring more exciting work on the Rose Garden, we were left to wonder what could have caused us to find objection with this supreme being, this Michaelangelo of political vitriol, our own daVinci of immorality.

I know we will be forced to pay at least glancing attention to trivial pursuits like eradicating the virus that isn't or addressing the nettlesome issue of keeping all those whiny businesses afloat and cranky people from being tossed from their homes, but can anything dampen our enthusiasm for seeing TFG in all his orange glory?

Welcome back TOAFG (the once and future guy). Keep up the bad work.

November 4, 2020

 Thank God for spell check.

Unfortunately Marjorie Taylor Greene's solicitations do not have a date check. 

A recent email to "Impeach Beijing Biden" with its hyperventilated rhetoric and immediate call for donations of green for Greene, states the following:  "Before the November 4 election".

I can well understand not remembering your parent's anniversary, or maybe the birthday of your spouse. Maybe even difficulty in recalling the year you graduated from college (you did Marge, right?).

But MTG (ok if I call you that, or better still, how about OMG)  how often are you elected for the first time to Congress (if your answer is anything other than "once" I am really going to be worried about you)? I mean, didn't you have November 3, 2020 tattooed on your brain (or maybe elsewhere on your body) leading up to the most important day of your life (well maybe next to the day you got your first gun)?

I am quite certain all the very mean statements you made about Beijing Joe and his ne'er-do-well offspring Hunter are as accurate as your recall on the exact date of your ascension as the leader of the bottom feeders (a crown you wear with distinction).

I know you do not personally review every post under your name as you are far too busy planning your next picnic with the Oath Keepers and the Proud Boys. But try your best to place your trust in someone who at least knows 30 days has September, April, June and November.

Your humble servant 

And, by the way, my check to you is in the mail.

 

A Cruz to Nowhere

 ("Ted Cruz's  Cancun Trip: Family Texts Detail His Political Blunder")

A Cruz to nowhere. Ok, it was actually a flight to Cancun, but you get the picture.

Politics is optics (not coincidentally, all the letters in the latter word are contained in the former). And could anything look worse than Mr. Cruz wheeling his suitcase through the airport while Texas was under a freezing siege? 

Mr. Cruz will undoubtedly, unfortunately, recover from this debacle (treating it like an optical illusion). But for a politician who prides himself on his show and tell (who could forget his Green Eggs and Ham Obamacare filibuster on the Senate floor, well actually most of us can) this error in his projected image was almost as large as his ego. A definite malfunction of Cruz control.

Mr. Cruz might be able to see all the way from his cold bedroom window, over the big beautiful wall built by Mr. Trump, and into a five star resort in Mexico but it would have served him far better if, in the midst of his state's unfolding tragedy, he had merely stayed home, wrapped another blanket around himself and read some more Dr. Seuss.

The Side Eye

She had just finished several tiring magic carpet runs. Demonstrating her considerable skills in the endeavor known as catch and release. Where, in conjunction with her parents, she performed an intricate three person ballet on the snow. Gravity propelling her down the hill, her mother or father all that was standing between this very small missile and a lesson in supersonic acceleration.

It had been a complete success, but enough was enough. And a most important aspect of this undertaking was next on the agenda.

She trudged, with her almost equally little friend, a few yards to a spot where they seated themselves on a wooden railing, their legs dangling a couple of feet (in several senses) above the snow. These two young women looking as any other skier who was taking a well deserved break, only in miniature version.

And when her mom handed her the snack she patiently awaited, she happily sat, surely contemplating how well she had finished her turns on the mountain. The contents of this small bag just reward for a job well done. Her eyes staring straight ahead, that slightly blank look a certain sign that she was at rest and at peace.

"Do you think you could share your Goldfish with E?"  In an instant, without the smallest change of expression, without turning her head even one degree in the direction of her buddy, she shifted her gaze from directly forward to as far left as humanly possible, both eyes darting towards their intended target but not truly mathematically able to reach that far around. It seemed a silent question/declaration of "you mean, give some of my hard earned trinkets to another sentient being." 

Haven't we all been the unwanted subject of similar demands at various junctures along the way? Where we have internally been vigorously shaking our heads in silent rejection of some mandate to which we really, really would rather not accede? 

This was not the first, and would surely not be the last time something such as this will happen to her. But maybe there would never be another occasion where, without a sound or even a shoulder shrug, she so fully expressed her dismay at the inequity of the request.

In but a blink of an eye, the Goldfish left her tiny hand and entered the palm of her neighbor. Assuredly the recipient of this beneficence was not even aware of the fleeting thought that had filtered through her friend's mind. 

Two young girls, just chillin' together, sharing the wonders of skiing, some Goldfish and a side eye for the ages..

Mitch's faux mea culpa

 My enmity for Mr. McConnell is boundless. His fingerprints all over the worst the Republican party has offered for well over a decade. 

As minority leader he was mastermind behind the plan to make Barack Obama a one term President, in the process watering down a desperately needed stimulus package and forcing a Rube Goldberg formula to health care reform.

He oversaw the stealing of a Supreme Court seat from Merrick Garland and the blink of an eye confirmation of Amy Coney Barrett.

And while he sometimes may have privately railed against the mania of Mr. Trump, he provided more than ample coverage for all the destruction.

Even in the weeks after November 3 he held firm to the party line, offering no resistance to the escalating cries of rage.

And now, even after he hinted at Mr. Trump's guilt, he voted to acquit, undoubtedly pulling with him many who were waiting for Mr. McConnell to signal it was time to cut the cord with the former President.

If one were looking for the definition of too little too late, the search would end with Mr. McConnell's semi mea culpa immediately after the die was cast.

With so much to choose from, maybe no action of this small being is more shameful, more odious than allowing Donald Trump to live, politically, another day. And then suggesting we should feel sympathy for the minority leader because he was powerless to stop it. 

It was, sir, not that you couldn't. It was only that you wouldn't.

GUILTY AS NOT CHARGED

The Republicans voting to acquit Donald Trump will be casting ballots to absolve themselves of their own sins of closing their eyes, holding their noses, shutting their ears and silencing their voices as their leader went on a four year tirade unimpeded by those who well understood the grave implications of doing nothing to stop, or at least slow down, the madness.

How else could this hearing have come to a different conclusion? This entire party is on trial here, McConnell, Cruz, Rubio all with the sworn duty to judge their own conduct. The mob that gathered on January 6th the result of the failings of the 50 Republicans on the jury as much as on the one person on trial.

We are no longer a two party system in this nation. We are as different species now, dressed in similar cloth but without even a hint of any connections to one reality.

And when this ends this morning Donald Trump will be the continuing beneficiary of those who have long since abandoned any pretense of leadership, of morality, of pledge to welfare of nation over self. Guilty of abandoning their post. 

Guilty as not charged.

THE HISTORY CHANNEL

 I understand that we are watching the History Channel.

I understand that what is being presented is not done with even the slimmest belief that 17 Republican Senators will walk on water and cast their lot and vote with 50 Democrats.

I understand that future generations must be fully informed as to what transpired on January 6, 2021 and as to the events leading to a day that will, as few others in this nation, live in infamy.

I understand that the grievous, relentless manic attacks by Donald John Trump that served as sound for all the fury must be set forth in detail, the gruesome reality of a President of the United States acting as accelerant for the attempted physical and psychological repudiation of an election shown in all its horrific chapter and verse.

I understand that if this is not  established as a matter of record that the passage of time will allow for the possibility of a reconstitution of facts in a manner suggesting Mr. Trump was unfairly accused, unceremoniously pursued, unjustly tried and ultimately able to emerge whole, intact and manifestly correctly acquitted.

I understand that in the moment this can seem a futile, useless exercise leading to a preordained conclusion. But this, ultimately, is not a trial taking place today, but a recitation intended to be heard, considered and determined tomorrow and in all the tomorrow's to come.

I understand.

CAPITAL LETTERS

 The hyperbole defense.

Donald Trump speaks and writes in all capital letters and exclamation points. His life but an exaggeration, a caricature of reality rather than reality itself.

So, it would be suggested, as a candidate, he did not fully intend for his supporters to punch out those in the crowd who did not approve of him, did not really perceive he would reach into his pocket to fund their defense. He was just making a point, his words merely there to amplify, not a catalyst to action. But, wink, wink, it wouldn't be the worst outcome if push actually came to a shove or two.

Mr.Trump would contend that he does not, cannot control how others respond, cannot be found accountable for those who would do exactly what he would suggest in Capitol letters. His bold and aggressive language only for show.

But when each day of your existence is spent in incendiary rhetoric, when every exclamation point stokes internal fires in those who don't perceive your wild abuses of language to mean less than they portray, then one day there could well be a sky high explosion, a culmination of all that has come before.

Even considered in the most favorable light, the proclamations of Mr. Trump exhibited a depraved indifference to the resulting probabilities. And when his histrionics are reviewed with a critical eye they reveal something far more sinister.

And so we get January 6th. And so it is, beyond all doubt, obvious that what you say, what you write has consequences. Exclamation points come to life. Inciting insurrection. Inviting a riot. Not hyperbole. Reality. In all CAPITAL LETTERS.