Good morning Widdershins.
Matt Taibbi’s analogy of Goldman Sachs to a vampire squid in 2010 has long been a favorite of mine. It’s brilliantly simple and effective. I’ve thought long and hard about something comparable for the metastasized garbage scow calling itself the Trump campaign.
The habitues of the campaign’s sanctum sanctorum are Steve Bannon, David Bossie, and Kellyanne Conway. Some background is in order. Bannon was the CEO of the one-holed outhouse calling itself Breitbart.com before his peacock mating dance with the Manhattan Meerkat began.
David Bossie has never earned a dollar from a job that didn’t involve Clinton derangement. Before becoming a tangerine nubbin sucker headquartered at Trump Tower, he was actually President of Citizen’s United (it’s a real thing, not just an abhorrent Supreme Court case).
And then there’s Chatty Kelly, the Todd Akin legitimate rape, Ted Cruz loving, Trump enabling, mother fudge-maker married to the man thought to have emailed Drudge about the shape of Bill Clinton’s penis.
These people have spent three decades living in a delusional world of an all-consuming, white-hot, hatred of the Clintons. They loathe Bill, Hillary, and probably Charlotte and Aidan, too. They arise fuming about them and go to bed hoping to dream of their demise.
If you believe the saying, “If you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life,” these people have never turned in a day’s work in their lives. Their lifeblood is one long Clinton delusional psychosis.
So this Trumpian circle is comprised of creatures who live in the darkness of an over-arching abhorrence of the Clintons. They are oblivious to anything but their hatred. They have evolved to be the perfect denizens of the padded rooms of the darkest reaches of the internet where animosity is the coin of the realm.
They are the naked mole rats of politics. Naked mole rats live in a harsh environment, but have evolved to be virtually indestructible. They have long lives. What is remarkable about them is that they have evolved to be extremely insensitive to pain. They are born this way. They live this way. You can pour acid on them and they won’t feel it. They live in eusocial colonies like ants and bees. The queen rat fights for dominance to the death. She and her boy toy servicing rats are the only reproducing rats in the colony.
If this Trumpian triumvirate had a coat of arms, it would feature the crossed teeth of the naked mole rat. They are virtually indestructible and oblivious to the pain they cause. They live to support and sustain the hating colony.
Here’s an observation for what it’s worth. All the talking heads point to the ignominy of what has become the orangeloupe’s campaign. Here’s my bet.
The naked mole rats surrounding the orangeloupe could care less about the campaign. They knew the toxicity of what they were selling from the get-go. Unburdened by actually trying to win, they now have free rein to engage in what they exist to do without feeling or care – spew unfounded bile on a national level against the Clintons. The Republican Party is merely the hobby horse they rode to the party.
They have discovered political naked mole rat heaven.
They have a stooge they can wind-up with a teleprompter to touch all the erogenous zones of the critters of the fever swamp. These naked mole rats have evolved to the point of the perfect, Clinton-hating vermin. They have reached the pinnacle of their evolutionary journey. Who would have thought that journey would end at Trump Tower?
What’s on your mind today?
Good morning Widdershins. We are in D+36, freshly scrubbed from Sunday night’s Republican pre-Halloween grave digging. It was as if the Headless Horseman borrowed someone’s jack-o-lantern, carved a hen’s butt for a mouth, and turned it loose for a Walking Dead audition.
All the polls say Hillary won the debate by double digits. There was carping by Leftie bed wetters about why Hillary failed to put the Yam away. Here’s why she didn’t: Strategically, there is nothing better than having Trump as the head of the Republican ticket.
If Hillary had put the rancid, orange Vienna Sausage away, Republicans would have hightailed it like there was a fire at the two-for-one whorehouse. A ticket led by Trump is Nancy Pelosi’s readmission to the Speaker’s Office. Trump is going to be tied around every Republican candidate like a cheap Chinese necktie. Unlike Obama, Hillary and her pips are playing three-dimensional politics for Democratic down ballot candidates.
Hillary flourished Sunday night, we survived, and we saw that a cornered rat is always full of fight, but still susceptible to its love of fermented diary products. The clamorous Yam’s behavior isn’t surprising. He can’t be what he’s not – so we can forget the possibility of a decent person miraculously appearing.
I believe what we saw Sunday night was a preview of a new cable channel – low def CDS. It seems as if the polarization profiteers have gained absolute control of the orange gorilla’s snortables in order to go full tilt in the pursuit of salacious vulgarity. Who are these polarization profiteers of whom I speak?
Steve Bannon, Breitbart’s pernicious earwig, David Bossie, a hissing cockroach whose entire career has involved Clinton derangement, and Chatty Kellyanne Conway, the cow killer mutillidae, the real charmer and great pretender of the insect and political world. They have been hating Clintons since Marky Mark was still running with the Funky Bunch.
All three of these psuedo-humans perfectly mimic their diabolical insect namesakes. When we thought they couldn’t go lower, they went all Deepwater Horizon on us. They have learned when you ride a tiger; it is awfully hard to dismount.
The most honest thing the crumb at the bottom of the Cheeto bag ever said was, “I’ll run for President and make money at it.” That’s what we saw last night – a sneak peek of coming attractions on the CDS channel, the visual fever swamp of the Alt-right deplorables.
There will be a remake of Murder She Wrote in her Emails. There will a soap opera Days of our Wives that times the marriages of these cretins with a sweep secondhand. There will be a wildlife show like Animal Planet, but it will be called Animal Penthouse as a live feed from Trump’s office and apartment. Of course, there will be Scandal updates on the hour and the news will be Fairly Unbalanced. After hours there will be a soft-porn homoerotic, all shirtless Putin program.
Undoubtedly, Roger Ailes will be in charge of personnel, leg cameras, and skirt height. Rudy Giuliani will have a show called The 4 Ds: Dementia, Dental Disease, and Divorce. Chris Christie will have two shows – a new take on a cooking show called, Believe Me, I Ate the Whole Thing and Bridgegate: Stories from Prison.
This CDS channel will be the first cable channel to utilize smell-o-vision. Tuning in will reek of regret just like its owners and stars. These people live their lives with such iridescent regret their only outlet is spewing vituperative bile to ease their self-loathing. Just like junkies who need more and more for a better high, they need any facade of political correctness to be stripped away so their venomous attacks can be sprayed with reckless abandon.
The CDS channel will service those who believe Fox is too polite and environmentally friendly. Unhampered by logic or science, the CDS will be long on “feelacts” – those things that feel like facts. All I can say is: Since people who get their news from Fox would be better informed if they listened to no news at all; those who come to be informed by the CDS will be given two coupons for the nearest drive-by lobotomy clinic just in case the first one doesn’t take.
Sunday night Donald Trump did what he knows how to do – belittle, beleaguer, and degrade a woman on stage as well as four seated in the audience. He tried to intimidate through sheer size and Lurch-like looming. If his sentences were jigsaw puzzles, we still wouldn’t have the outer edges fitting together, but we recognize the picture on the box top – Greed and Narcissism by Trump during his orange period.
Of this I’m sure, just like Fox, Limbaugh, Hannity, and the rest, the best thing for the business of CDS is a Hillary Rodham Clinton administration. Listen closely and you can tell it’s part of the business plan of the polarization profiteers.
What’s on your mind?
Good Debateday Widdershins!
Well, the clamorous Yam finally did it.
Yes, he did.
Insulting veterans didn’t do it.
Disrespecting a Gold Star Family didn’t do it.
Being an equal opportunity bigot and racist didn’t do it.
Being an imbecilic, bird-brained, cretinous moronic pretender as to policy, the military, and foreign affairs didn’t do it.
Being someone who incited violence against a citizen didn’t do it.
Being someone with a homoerotic fascination with Vladimir Putin didn’t do it.
Being someone who is accused of pedophile rape didn’t do it.
Being someone who stiffed workers, tradesmen, subcontractors, and vendors didn’t do it.
Six bankruptcies didn’t do it.
Losing $916 Million Dollars didn’t do it.
Being a lewd, profane, sexist, misogynistic swine didn’t do it.
What grabbed the pusillanimous Republicans by their private parts enough to finally move them? Knowing, without a doubt, the Cheeto-factory reject was doomed to failure one month from now with a certain, historic loss to our gal Hillary. At long last, that knowledge was what gave certain Republicans pause to reconsider their support of a man who brags of white male privilege so ubiquitous and mundane as to allow carte blanche sexual assault of women.
There should no longer be even a scintilla of doubt that the Republican Party is now populated by a near majority of craven, sexist, racist, poltroons unworthy of consideration in the public square. The one person sent out to speak on Trump’s behalf? A man who informed one of his three wives on television their marriage was over.
One personal note to my Widdershin friends: On many progressive sites the brush painting all males, including those of us of the “librul” bent, is quite broad. The accusation is that all men, even those of us who are feminists, are guilty of such abhorrent talk about women.
Without fear of contradiction – I have been on sports teams in high school, fraternities, graduate schools, male dominated law firms, and more bars than there are stars in the sky and I have NEVER heard anyone, friend or foe, speak of women like Trump did in that video recording. NEVER.
I wanted to say thank you for not painting all of us with such a broad brush. As with many things, Widdershins are exceptional.
With that, let’s enjoy Hillary’s victory tonight!
Good Saturday and Weekend to you Widdershins!
Well that was certainly an interesting vice-presidential debate we had the other night. While Tim Kaine may have had a couple of exaggerations, Mike Pence just sat there calmly and lied his @ss off. To quote Mr. Pundit:
he can say shit that is just demonstrably wrong with an eerie calmness
You can go through the various times that Pence claimed that Trump didn’t say something that Trump absolutely said. It was as if Pence thought he could play a Jedi mind trick on the nation, waving his hand and saying, as he really did to Kaine, “Most of the stuff you’ve said, he’s never said.”
In a similar manner Charles Pierce said this about Pence’s performance:
But, at the very least, and this is the lowest bar possible for a vice-presidential candidate, Kaine at least demonstrated that he and his running mate are on the same page as regards most of the issues. By halfway through the debate, you began to wonder whether or not on Inauguration Day, Mike Pence would have to be introduced formally to the president-elect.
So with all of that let’s look at some songs about lies, lying and all the rest. It really does seem like we have to continue visiting the topic in this Presidential cycle doesn’t it?
(1) Living the Lie ~ Dio
(2) Little Lies ~ Fleetwood Mac
(3) Policy of Truth ~ Depeche Mode
(4) A Beautiful Lie ~ 30 Seconds to Mars
(5) Don’t Tell A Lie About Me & I Won’t Tell the Truth on You ~ James Brown
So there ya go Widdershins: variations on what seems to be a recurring theme during this campaign. Enjoy and contribute often in the comments below.
As for Fredster, he’s going to be busy today sticking pins into an effigy of the Florida Gator’s A.D. Jeremy Foley and wondering where he can get himself some good graveyard dirt and a live chicken.
Obviously, an open thread.
Thirty-three days left.
Officially, it has been 3,083 days since the DNC Rules and Bylaws Committee back on May 31st, 2008. You remember that meeting. The ill-fated conclave of crotch fleas and eczema models who stole the nomination from Hillary.
We here at TW are nothing if not helpful. We think of ourselves as the typing personification of late night public service announcements. Those PSAs coming on right after infomercials asking, “Do you poop enough?”
Here’s how I want to help you today. If you are like me, through no fault of our own, a Orangeloupe supporter who poops out of their mouth is likely to confront us. Invariably, the “genius” business acumen of the Trumpanzee will surface somewhere in the explosive diarrhea masquerading as communication.
So sit back, relax, and warm your cockles by the infrared radiation streaming through your nether regions courtesy of your laptop. These next few paragraphs will give you plenty of ammunition to fight back against these Trumptanic zombies.
So our story begins, as so many of these stories do, in a simpler time. It was a time when ketchup was considered a vegetable, when eating off thousand dollar plates was a sacrifice by our leaders, and matters of state were determined by astrologers and horoscopes. It was a time of “young bucks feasting on T-bones and welfare queens joyriding in their food stamp Cadillacs.”
It was the 1980s. A time of trickling down economics, an addlepated, early stage Alzheimer’s president, a savings and loan bailout bigger than 2008, and masterful tinkering with the tax code for the rich and infamous.
One such example was the Tax Reform Act of 1984. Getting all biblical, this Act became “great with loopholes, and unto this Act was born Section 108. Throughout the land, there were great tidings of joy among real estate developers.”
I’m not going to get into the fine details because you, unlike me, have interesting lives. The long and short of it is this: This loophole was not conceived through Immaculate Conception. This loophole was conceived through the real estate lobby’s unrelenting and ravenous appetite for Croesus-like profit without risk or danger. This loophole allowed developers, like the Manhattan Mango, to claim losses of an entire project while only making a small fractional investment.
For example, say a project was going to cost $1.0 million. If a developer put up $100,000 and a bank financed $900,000 and the project went belly up, this Section 108 loophole allowed the developer to claim the whole $1.0 million loss if it was held in an S Corporation.
Now that sounds complicated doesn’t it? Well, I’m here to tell you it ain’t. It’s tax law 101 kinda stuff. It’s not rocket science, but it is Cialis for real estate tools.
It just took eighteen (18) years to kill this loophole. Litigation all the way to the Supreme Court couldn’t do it. Congress finally, in 2002, voted to kill it. Voting with the majority to kill it, Sen. Hillary Rodham Clinton.
So when your acquaintances start yammering about the brilliance of the herpetic orange tinted navel lint, cut them off at the knees with these facts.
- The net operating loss was not a one-year feat. The $916 Million Dollar loss is likely the culmination of paying way too much for assets and then being unable to service the debt. Most notably, the NJ casinos, the Plaza Hotel, and a yacht that eventually had to be sold at a loss. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, the Orangesicle essentially financed at Payday Loan rates when he ought to have been shopping at Wal-Mart.
- More than 500,000 individual taxpayers took advantage of this same loophole in 1995. The average loss they claimed was just $97,600. The clamorous Yam’s losses that year accounted for almost 2 percent of the national total.
- From what we have seen of the Yam’s earning power – it ain’t great. The 1995 partial return shows him earning $3,427,092. A nice salary, but that is not the salary of a billionaire. It isn’t really the salary of a successful New York developer. It is the salary of someone who should be listening to investment advice, not giving it.
- When the Yam says, “He’s got a fiduciary duty to pay as few taxes as possible,” he doesn’t know what “fiduciary” means. A fiduciary is someone who acts for another with the best interests of the other person being foremost. Trump works for himself. He files his taxes as an individual. All his entities, to our knowledge, roll up to him PERSONALLY. He is not a fiduciary. He is a money-grubbing, nubbin-fingered, orange tinted sloth – not a fiduciary.
5. When Trump and Chatty Kellyanne bray about him paying all kinds of taxes, they are either supremely ignorant or have graduated from the same school of world-class lying as Raygun impersonator Mike Pence. Here’s the little secret for real estate. Every tax, every last cent of it for commercial property, is allocated into rents. The owners pay virtually nothing. Trump, being self-employed, pays no federal taxes other than a self-employment tax (which everyone does) and the federal unemployment tax which is only 6% on the first $7,000 in salary. Trump just collects the taxes his employees pay and then remits them. He doesn’t pay any real estate taxes. He pays no property taxes other than on what he might personally own. Long and short of it – Trump is lying like a snake in a wagon rut when he claims to pay this litany of taxes. He collects the taxes other people are paying, stuffs them in an envelope, and sends them to the government.
While trying to explain these points to knuckle-dragging troglodytes who plan to grunt and use their own feces to make an “X” for the clamoring Yam on Election Day, remember to keep your hands away from the cage. Just another helpful TSA hint.
What’s on your mind today?
Welcome folks. It is the Vice Presidential Debate from Longwood University in Farmville, Virginia. Don’t worry; this isn’t a school for wayward porn stars in a video game simulation.
It’s the Faceoff in Farmville – a former talk radio host versus a former Jesuit missionary. I’m not expecting fireworks, but there will be contortions worthy of a Cirque du Soleil matinée with Pence attempting to mansplain the Trumpanzee.
Just in case the “Thrilla in Vanilla” gets too boring, here’s a debate game. I’m sure you’ve noticed that Pence is fixated on shoulders – in particular, Trump’s shoulders. From “standing shoulder to shoulder,” to “broad shouldered leadership,” to “shouldering the burden of leading,” it’s “shoulders, shoulders, shoulders” to Pence.
Pence also likes to talk about “movements” — “leading a movement,” or “being in a movement.” For what it’s worth, he might be correct in the Orangesicle campaign being a “big explosive movement.”
So each time Pence brings up “shoulders” or “movement” – take a swig out of your V.P. big gulp or adult beverage and offer up a “Who’s yer ….” comment. Or just offer a comment.
We might be so fortunate as to get a rare simultaneous “shoulder movement,” so sit back and enjoy the Farmville Faceoff.
Good Monday, all! As Big Daddy Deplorable continues his epic meltdown, we’ve seen an equally epic, and almost fatally overdue, avalanche of truthful, and thus negative, press about his lack of fitness to be President. This “Holy sh*t, what have we done?!” moment from the press corpse has been rather gratifying to us here at TW. Except for one, teeny, eeny little caveat: Where’s HRC?
It seems the collective media, despite a resounding and practically universal acknowledgement of her stellar debate performance last week, still cannot bring itself to cover any of Hillary’s events, or discuss any of her policies and plans for the country. To do this would be acknowledging that she is not actually an evil murderous robot, but a real, live human being who is 1000% prepared for her time in the Oval Office. This is, I suppose, not exciting or “sexy” enough for the media, especially when it comes from a girl. Sadly, when Stepford Spokesperson Kellyanne Conway says she never hears about any kind of policy from the Democratic side, she’s right – because it’s been utterly, completely invisible.
Oh, but Hillary’s “glaring weakness” is sure to be covered, even as her huge bump from the debate performance is minimized and caveatted as though its accuracy were going to be defended in a court of law. (On September 30, according to fivethiryeight.com, she led in all 11 swing states. Der Trumperer was ahead or close in several states before his, uh, “microphone issues.”) Do you know what this horrible Achilles heel is? That’s right – millennials! Bros in hoodies, baby. Oh, if only she could win them over, but they’re just too idealistic and lefty for her, and disagree with her on the issues. Writes Emmett Rensin of Newsweek, arguing his case:
The liberal punditry might be forgiven for underestimating the depth and seriousness of these differences had these young people not voted overwhelmingly and across all other demographic lines for a different candidate. The Clinton campaign might be forgiven for imagining these voters would “come home” had it not spent the weeks since the Democratic Convention fundraising and playing Bush administration endorsement bingo. The trouble is not that young people are insufficiently familiar with the neoconservative horror show of their own childhoods. The trouble is that the candidate they are meant to support does not appear to find that show particularly horrifying.
Indeed it is difficult not to imagine that the punditry has refused to endorse the maddeningly simple conclusion that young voters are reluctant to support a candidate who does not represent their policy preferences because such a conclusion might undermine the need for so much well-compensated armchair psychology on their part.
Bzzzzzt! Sorry, Mr. Rensin, but if that were true, Gary Johnson would not have blipped on their radar. A guy who favors the dismantling of the government so that the “invisible hand of the free market” can reach into their pockets and take everything they have, does not actually qualify as more liberal than HRC. And during the primaries, let’s not forget that the BernieBros swarmed the Interwebz with an avalanche of misogynistic rhetoric Drumpf would have approved of heartily. These malicious, misinformed sexists do not get a pass from me because they are young and easily led around by their teeny tiny pee-pees. Nor does the typical Brogressive bullsh*t of calling HRC a neocon play well with me. That’s just an excuse for not voting for her because she’s a woman – they had no problem whatsoever with Obama’s foreign policy, which was no different than hers, except that he never had an opportunity to vote for the AUMF, and rode that fortuitous timing all the way to the White House.
Are we sensing a theme here?
Still, again and for as long as they can, men are pushing HRC and her supporters to the back of the bus. (Yes, I said it. Deal with it.) The fact that Republican and moderate women are going for her doesn’t help her – only those young, “idealistic” millennial men can take her to the White House? Except, not so much, since there are 69 million millennial voters (who vote in astonishingly low numbers), and in 2014, there were 76 million female registered voters. (This was 66% of the citizen population.) As we all know, especially after the latest Machado hatefilled tweetfest, women massively favor Clinton. Even if all the millennials came out and voted, there still wouldn’t be the potential there that 100% of registered female turnout would offer. And yet no one can believe that we should be as assiduously courted as those graced with that famous scrap of flesh between their legs. Why should anyone care about us? We’re only wimminz, just like Hillary. To quote New York’s Nosferatu, Rudy NineEleven:
Speaking of reports that Donald Trump claimed a $916 million loss on his 1995 income taxes, Giuliani said: “Don’t you think a man who has this kind of economic genius is a lot better for the United States than a woman, [bolding mine] and the only thing she’s ever produced is a lot of work for the FBI checking out her emails?”
Note that strategically placed comma, folks? Just like all of Clinton’s outstanding public service for the past 40 years, Hillary Clinton’s gender defines her in the eyes of a lot of American men of all political persuasions. And, it makes her invisible. How ironic that her ad of 2008, which I still remember today, is now applying to not just her supporters, but herself.
I can’t wait for November 8th. When all those non-existent women come out to vote for HRC, all this will change; not immediately, but irrevocably, and for all time.
This is an open thread.