Take just one teensy example, a favorite: Lindsey Graham, who Trump called a “disgrace, nut job, one of the dumbest human beings,” who is now tethered on the ring Trump had punched through his nose.
Today, Lindsey just hobbles dutifully along, echoing his master’s every whim, just as he did during his long-lost salad days when he did the same for his buddy, John McCain with his spine to crawl up on.
Islamic leadership that clings to a mindset locked in the Middle Ages, organized to end another inch of advance for women or any other minority or religious sect, endlessly preaching death to Americans, histories most advanced civilization.
Let me be clear, I think the assassination of Trump would be repulsive.
However, I am surprised that in America, such evil still exists.
Even Hitler had at least 40 attempts, many by insiders, but with Trump no insider will do what over 700,000 of our family members, neighbors and fellow defenders of democracy have done: Die in freedom’s defense.
Subverting the 2020 election and having his sycophants attack the capitol.
Abusing his pardon power to release the vilest attackers of democracy.
Using the “bully pulpit” to spread lies and hate.
Withholding funds from Ukraine in support of one of the world’s most hideous dictators.
Hinging all new government appointments to lackeys, compliant to any whim.
Dismissing all whistle blowers, anyone disagreeing with him.
Scrounging what cash he can for his family, off the most need of a hand up.
With a Congress subservient, and the Supreme Court neutered with his appointees, all hope resides, where it has always resided, in the democracy our American ancestors gave birth to, and died to preserve – YOU!
Never mind that he claims responsibility for parking dead bears in Central Park. Never mind the worm he claims ate its way into his brain. Kennedy has stumbled on the truth I have long been straining to uncover “Fluoride causes low IQ and brain damage.”
That’s it, that must be it! Fluoride has made Americans stupid.
In spite, of all those Trump intimates, the Generals, Chiefs of Staff, even Musk, broadcasting Trumps childish, ignorant nature, millions that don’t know him, never worked with him or have ever even seen him, are stuck on him.
Why is it that so many Americans not in the know, without the teensy bit of know, lock on, despite what those in the know are screaming at them.
They have itty bitty, tinny weenie, scrappy lives, some leaning female, some male. Born in captivity, they live for months dreaming of freedom. If released, they are discharged with 10s of millions, all wiggling and straining to find the one home given to the first that gets there.
How can you not have compassion for the littlest losers dying by the millions, lost, starving for love, or just drying up in the bed sheets?
They have itty bitty, tinny weenie, scrappy lives, some leaning female, some male. Born in captivity, they live for months dreaming of freedom. If released, they are discharged with 10s of millions, all wiggling and straining to find the one home given to the first that gets there.
How can you not have compassion for the littlest losers dying by the millions, lost, starving for love, or just drying up in the bed sheets?
The few males in a hive just wander around looking for some queen to stick it too, while the females do all the work.
If there is trouble, it is the females that have the stinging weapon and launch into battle often giving up their lives, while the bigger males just pretend to be girls to save themselves.
If our hive is to be saved, it will be women that do it!
I spent 33 years locked in a promise I made Presidents Ford and Carter. I would not involve myself in partisan politics while running the organization we had begun.
Once retired, I still would not involve in political discussions. That isn’t to say I had nothing to say, it is just after those 33 years of struggling to help people deal with the facts, I am no longer interested in what anyone else thinks.
From where I have stood, no one thinks. Like eating a Big Mack to satisfy their hunger, people have become accustomed to tunning into some political preacher who says what satisfies and then mimics them with “lock box” conviction.
When politics becomes the conversation, I have become a joke. “Mention politics,” they say, “if you want to watch Kimball walk out of the room.”
If I am stuck, as the other day, with a devoted Christian, Trump supporter and close friend, who thought him God’s tool to make things wrong, right again, I simply agree.
Yes, Jesus was selfless, thoughtful, kind, forgiving with endless compassion for the suffering, downtrodden and all those without hope. Trump, his doppelganger – very difficult to see much difference.
I was six when I first worried about death. An older brother mentioned we only live into our 60s. It was simple arithmetic – I had only 9 of my life spans left.
So it began, a lifelong, almost daily uneasiness about the time left.
When I was six, I sensed no pre-me, I had been my forever, and time was…well if it moved at all, was sap slow. A school year lasted forever, and the next Christmas was an eternity away.
This is not to say early life was boring, just the opposite. So, sodden I was after that first breath (whatever that freakish experience must have been) with new, never had or imagined intimacies with this thing or that, each one seeming eons from those had just a few moments ago.
The freshly pealed, raw experiences of life began on some supersonic conveyor belt of WOWs.
But as life progresses the belt offers fewer, fresh WOWs and increasing chains of “been there, done that,” repetitions.
As I age, the belt’s “been there, done that,” offerings increase, fatigue sets in and the belt of time speeds up as if to find anything new.
Days become weeks, then months and suddenly another year flashes by.
When as old as me, that first wonderous breath you took so very long ago has been repeated 650 million times and you are good to go.
Over two years ago or almost one year after Putin invaded Ukraine, I wrote these blogged words in solution to the war, words that I hate as much now as I did when I wrote them:
“The West recognizes roughly 7% of Ukraine as Russian, including Crimea and the Russian-speaking areas of Donetsk and Luhansk — roughly the territory Russia claimed in 2014.
Ukraine, whose economy has crashed, gets to retain all of the territory they had prior to the 2022 invasion, gets peace, and the funds to rebuild, substantially but not solely provided by Russia.“
That is exactly where we head now, only after another 30,000 innocent non-combatant deaths.
It is not a brag, but a cracking volcanic blast at cowering, wimpy Presidents who can’t get off their knees when challenged by a country whose economic power is half that of California’s.
It is important to remember that the aged are going to forget. That may be why decaying Presidents and Congressmen are endlessly flipping and then flopping on the opposite side of their former selves.
That will be my excuse for letting this all happen.
A mushroom lives and dies never knowing its own colossal source. Like us, some are nourishing, others poisonous and a few mind-blowing, but neither imagine the extraordinary apparatus that anchors their existence
For the mushroom it can be a fungus that weighs tons, a billion times larger than themselves, living on as the oldest organism on earth.
For us? Well, none know. Like the mushroom, we bloom and are driven to think we are it, our bodies carry all that we know, can know, and think there is. Only with consciousness, we are compelled to conjure hope in one simplistic cult driven God after another.
While the truth might find our bodies expendable, but our essence eternal, only defused upon death, mixed and redistributed to make bits of us present in an infinite number of new existences just as oblivious of their author as we are today.
I have no faith in what I write here. It just seems more real than all the poppycock fairy tales religions tempt me with.
An alien, never having experienced earth as you know it, walked into our world out of a Brazilian jungle wearing only a loin cloth and carrying some wood.
He took a look at some of our magic – lighters, cell phones and such, turned around and walked right back into the jungle to be seen no more.
The Founders, feared authoritarian government above all else, thus constructed a firewall against any possibility of an authoritarian government. Amongst those few who still know, it was the separation of powers splitting power between the three legs of a stool, that gave government balance and prohibited anyone leg from attaining absolute power over the people.
“If you got them by the balls, their hearts and minds will fallow,” a forecast that hung in the Nixon White House now cemented in a Congress where their leg of the stool has mortified into water fetching lackies.
Trump now goes for the second leg that bars absolute control.
Today, Elon Musk and Vice President JD Vance condemned the judiciary, attacking their legitimacy, the final pillar of the separation of power’s protection against an authoritarian.
As the Vice-President said, “Judges aren’t allowed to control the executive’s legitimate power.” While Musk added, judges who oppose him should be impeached.
When the people finally get it, don’t expect Democrats to defend you. As Hakeem Jefferies, the House Minority Leader suggests, we need to wait for the pitches we can hit or Martin, the Democratic Parties new leader, who says we need to find more billionaires to keep up with the Republicans.
This is WAR, and opposition has yet to find a leader to enter the field of battle believing that The People can govern for themselves.
In a normal world someone standing at the apex of political power going to prison for 11 years would saturate the news. After all, Bob Menendez was charged with leading foreign-policy, and overseeing billions in foreign aid, the sale of arms to foreign powers, holding confirmation hearings, NOT the cash discovered stuffed in his boots and pockets or the gold bars anointing him with his nick name.
I have witnessed such sliminess at every level both as a Congressional staffer, State Senator, Corporation Commissioner, a non-profit leader, and as me.
Sometimes the payouts were enormous from those willing and able to dip the largest shovels into special interest public projects.
While others just getting started get their beaks wet with offers of free trips, premium seating or just some movie tickets. I loved movies, and although I refused all others, I went to see a few free films.
It is a cycle, little known, little written about, but contagious with those elected. You grow a big head; think you are somehow worthwhile and more deserving than those that voted for you.
As the word penis came out of her mouth, I would have willingly stretched out underneath an elephant turd and hoped its owner would take a step on it.
When a widowed mother asks a 13-year-old Catholic boy to take a seat “for the BIG TALK,” low organs will crinkle up into raisins frantically looking for somewhere they won’t exist.
It was some years earlier that my older brother Bobby, flatly stated, “Dad put his penis in Mom’s pussy and because of that I came out.”
The announcement was casually made in front of our living room mirror as Mom stroked my two-year-old hair, “We are going to get this cut.” The shock was instant. I was going to be “cut.” Cutting hurt and I had no reason to believe cutting my hair would be any less painful than cutting off fingers or toes.
My protests, apparently laughable, were ignored, and I was unjustly packed into the family’s Packard and off we went.
Entering the shop there he stood, as sinister a sight as any little boy had ever seen. He just stood motionless looking down at me. Recognizing my fear, that grim-faced, slick-haired, spectacled little man with the tiny mustache and stiff white shirt grimaced and looked up at my mom. I was doomed.
My terror was splayed open for all to see as I took in the various fluid-filled jars containing combs and cutting devices, along with assorted objects plugged into electrical sockets behind him. And the chair, OH GOD that chair, what was it? Huge with various handles and levers and a long leather strap swaying at its side. I lost it!
Dismissing a child’s fears as simple childishness is so convenient to an adult who has long forgotten the traumas of their own first-time childhood horrors: the time you first got the needle at the doctor’s office, wobbled and crashed that first two-wheeler attempt, the dark that came at night, when you first rode The Hammer at the State Fair, or just the creaking noises in the closet when all were asleep. . . and a hundred other childhood traumas.
Most adults could easily revisit those fears by trying a bungee jump or first sky dive, taking a quick dip into a frozen lake or maybe a bit of harmless water boarding – all would likely do the trick and give a taste of what we have forgotten about first-time events. And you will never have so many first-time events as you did as a child.
Anyway, I stood in front of the barber butcher, and he was going to cut me. For some incomprehensible reason the person I trusted most in life, picked up a box, placed it on the torture device and stuck me to it – then let the butcher have his way with his sharp pointy objects. My fear was intense and real. My mother, like all mothers, knew such fears absurd, but mine also had the presence of mind to see an opportunity for posterity and documented the event.
