Posts Tagged ‘Miller’
As sure as orange is the color of prison jumpsuits, these days monumental events fall prey to the 140-charactered immaculate misconceptions of POTUS (Putrefaction of the Umber Scrotum). As the King of Siam said, “So let it be written. So let it be done.” The Umber Scrotum took this to heart and added his dribbling drivel of, “I only regret that I have but 140 characters to tweet for my country.”
In the list of shortest reigns, at 84-days the “Persimmon Putintate” is fast approaching the record of Emperor Pertinax of Rome. Pertinax lasted 86-days before being beaten to death by the Praetorian Guards. His passing was fortuitous since shortly thereafter the Praetorians separated his head from his body, placed it upon a pike, and led a parade with it.
These tangerine-hued 84-days have not been without palace intrigue. Much to the chagrin of all ground beef-faced Americans, it appears Steve Bannon’s sell-by date has come and gone. Even his dead-eyed mini-me, Steve Miller, has broken pucker and in true remora fish symbiosis firmly attached himself to the Kingdom of Kushner.
Many progressives believe the devolution of Bannon into yogurt is positive. Color me unconvinced. Dolt 45, while not yet starting a war, is liable to leave devastation just as formidable in his wake.
Let’s review. If Jefferson Beauregard Sessions is beating the nativist tribal drums, while Scott Pruitt is figuring out how to incorporate asbestos and pesticides into our diets, with Budget Director Dick Mick Mulvaney proclaiming a goal of high inequality, and Gary Cohn running the economy as an asterisk to the Goldman Sachs balance sheet, the Dolt 45 administration is a conservative Cialis-palooza.
For instance, Granny Sessions, a man who was too racist to be confirmed as federal judge 30-years ago, has in the last few weeks:
Indicated a desire to roll back civil rights oversight of abusive police departments, stampeded over states’ objections to immigration enforcement raids at courthouses, dropped efforts to improve forensic science, directed federal prosecutors to dedicate a larger share of their resources to deporting immigrants, launched a new crackdown on high-tech guest worker visas, and indicated a desire to bring back old-school “war on drugs” policies, including a stepped-up federal crackdown on marijuana use.
Or let’s look at the influence of Goldman Sachs. Here’s the picture of the Mar-a-Lago ersatz Situation Room last weekend surrounding the Syrian deserted airfield cafeteria bombing.
In this picture, not counting the soldier at the door, there are fourteen people. Of those fourteen, eight have either worked for or borrowed money from Goldman Sachs.
These things alone will not add Dolt 45 to the Emperor Pertinax list. It will be the cold hard reality of numbers. Since I have trouble counting to 21 with my shoes on, here’s a picture.
Now for some perspective – in the United States there might be 12,200 lobbyists nationwide. We have a better idea of foreign agents since by law they must register. By a recent count, there were about 1,700 registered foreign agents.
So in a country of 320 Million souls, the odds of running into a free-range lobbyist are really slim, like 0.00004. The odds of running into a registered foreign agent on the hoof are even slimmer, 0.000005.
By their own admission, the OrangeCursed campaign had only about 40 key staffers and barely 100 advisers. The question becomes: How did the campaign have, not one, but two retroactively registered foreign agents? And how, out of 320 Million people, did eleven putrid peons with ties to Putin’s Russia find their way to Trump Tower just in time for this hootenanny?
In their conclusory paragraph on Russian collusion in the 2016 election, The Guardian says:
One source suggested the official investigation was making progress. “They now have specific concrete and corroborative evidence of collusion,” the source said. “This is between people in the Trump campaign and agents of [Russian] influence relating to the use of hacked material.”
So let it be written. So let it be done.
What’s on your mind today?
From Anne Rice’s book, The Witching Hour:
Give me a man or woman who has read a thousand books and you give me an interesting companion. Give me a man or woman who has read perhaps three and you give me a very dangerous enemy indeed.
Our White House is chocked full of dangerous enemies. I doubt Dolt 45 has ever read a book. Of the two power brokers, Steve Bannon and Steve Miller, or Steve Squared, Bannon has undoubtedly cracked more books than the dead-eyed, zombified Miller, but their coming of age is almost identical.
According to acquaintances, Bannon changed after 2001. He came to embrace eras of historical significance divvied-up into 20-year increments of “highs, awakenings, unraveling, and crises.” To quote one of Bannon’s 2008 films, “History is seasonal, and winter is coming.”
The Miller part of Steve Squared was an enfant terrible calling into conservative talk radio while still in high school in the early aughts. He bragged to conservative audiences of cracking the whip on laggardly high school janitorial staff. A graduate of U.S. Senator and ambulatory garden gnome Jefferson Beauregard Sessions’ tutelage, there is no better description of Miller than this:
In any other Republican administration, Miller would have been lucky to land a second-tier job at a third-tier agency. But in the Trump White House, Miller stands out: He’s one of the few people in the president’s inner orbit who has actually worked in government.
And that my friends is the high water mark of what constitutes a policy shop for a petulant 70-year old who might or might not have successfully graduated from the Trump University of Potty Training given the reports of vodka-swilling, borscht-loving prostitutes.
Bannon and Miller are zealots. They are true believers – not of Trumpism for whatever that may turn out to be. They have spawned an apocalyptic philosophy of white national populism – the schizophrenic belief of a Judeo-Christian right to a 21st Century modernity of gadgets and gizmos nestled safely in a 1950’s culture where we are all employed by jobs last worked by our grandparents.
Empty vessels are the easiest filled. Barely 40-days in and this truism is proved by Flynn resigning due to canoodling with the Russians, a Secretary of the Navy, a Secretary of the Army, a Secretary of Labor, a Deputy Secretary of Commerce, and at least six White House staffers biting the curb because of non-existent vetting. Hundreds of offices are unfilled without any hint of nominees.
We have a rolling disclosure of Russians leaping like Baryshnikov to meet with campaign Trumpets. As of this writing, Flynn, Kushner, fruitcake Carter Page, J.D. Gordon, Walid Phares, and His Gnomeness Sessions, all met with the Russian ambassador Kislyak.
Then there is Michael Cohen, Trump’s lawyer, who is so squirrely his bushy tail twitches when he someone says, “nuts.” Add to that Paul Manafort and you just need one more to field a baseball team, maybe the Chernobyl Reds who can play in the majorly radioactive league. The nagging question is this: Why the concerted effort to conceal these meetings?
Given these people’s intellectual challenges, they would be safer if they ate their meals with sporks since they are absolutely unfettered by their cluelessness of what they don’t know. The two people who are dancing on Occam’s razor, hoping against hope that Dolt 45’s signing pen doesn’t run out of ink are McTurtle and the doe-eyed Granny starver Ryan.
These two who worship power above all else are hoping that when the dust settles, their treasonous tryst will go unnoticed. And even if they are suspected of nefarious collusion, they will have accomplished their goal – tax cuts for the wealthiest among us. The 400 highest income earners in the country will get an average tax cut of about $7.0 Million a year for the low, low price tag of depriving health care to 21 Million.
Of course this pas de deux of the vacuous and the treasonous will culminate in a virtuoso of viperous Republican retribution. All in an effort to make good on the promise to the reliably hateful Republican/Tea Party voters to hurt those with less.
Overwhelming the already anemic media is part of the Steve Squared’s plan – not that overwhelming the media requires much effort. At least it appears that the Democrats are heeding the message to fight. It seems as if they finally understand there were no rewards for working with Dubya or no punishment for eight years of Republican obstruction.
It seems as if the Intelligence Community is our last bastion of protection. I follow a few former intelligence officers on Twitter and I perked right up when one said quite unequivocally that Dolt 45 will spend his last years in prison. They use sporks there too.
What’s on your mind today?
I love words – especially words that convey a feeling. Recently the German Embassy introduced me to my new favorite word:
Muffensausen! It isn’t a thing. It’s a condition. You can find yourself in a state of muffensausen. The term consists of the word muffe, meaning a sleeve or piping. The sausen means to “rapidly flow out” or “to swoosh by”. So if you are having muffensausen it means you are so scared you’ve lost control of your bowels.
Paradoxically, never before had I thought about the true meaning of being “scared sh!tless,” but our German friends have given us the perfect word for the reign of Lord Commander Marmalade. These days I’m in a constant state of muffensausen.
Everything Lord Dampnut (anagram of Donald Trump) has touched with his freakishly small paws has turned exquisitely FUBAR. First, we have the Mango Meerkat drunk-dialing, or better said crazy-dialing, long-term allies and yelling at them. Europe is actually asking if the U.S. has morphed into an existential threat. From a NYT article:
A European official, Donald Tusk, created a stir this week when he wrote a letter to 27 leaders of the bloc’s 28 member states suggesting that the Trump administration presented a threat on a par with a newly assertive China, an aggressive Russia and “wars, terror and anarchy in the Middle East and Africa.”
Coincidentally, the White House is leaking like an incontinent colander at a watermelon eating contest. There are quite detailed accounts of phone calls and even transcripts being thrown over the transom for an abused press to feast upon and feast they are.
His crazy doctor, who looks like Bannon with greasier hair, but better skin, is even leaking about the Trumpanzee’s prostate medication. In case you’re wondering, the way to get that fresh kangaroo scrotum look for your hair is right through your prostate or so says his doctor whose business cards have, “very famous doctor” under his name.
The guy who looks like the product of an inflamed hemorrhoid having had make-up sex with a more disgusting inflamed hemorrhoid is at the epicenter of all this mishegas (another great word). Around here we’ve known Bannon was trouble from the get-go. People are catching on and the cross-hairs are trained on him. Foreign Policy magazine even called him out.
He’s got a bootlicking henchman, Stephen Miller, who has a resume resplendent with the paragons of conservative thought – Michele Bachmann, Beauregard Jefferson Sessions, and Tea Party ding-a-ling David Brat. At 31 or 32, no one is quite sure from which rat mischief he creeps (a group of rats is called a “mischief” and is there any more appropriate word for this White House infestation).
Effectively, it seems Bannon and Miller masterminded the travel ban, kept it secret, and made sure it was legally and administratively worthless through their bumbling. Of course, there are those who are wholehearted believers — the people we decent folks call “deplorables”. These deplorables even had a “DeploraBall” around the inauguration. Representative of this mélange of madness is Cassandra Fairbanks, first a BernBrain, who then settled on Trump:
“[M]yself I thought, his message makes sense.” She appreciated Trump’s opposition to political correctness… “I started saying a few pro-Trump things on Twitter, and people absolutely lost their sh!t,” she said. “I got called a literal Nazi so many times, I eventually went, Fu*k it, I’ll just go all in.” She now writes for Sputnik, a news site funded by the Russian government.
Fairbanks joined up the night of the DeploraBall with a group of like-minded “Proud Boys,” a pro-Western fraternal organization for men who “refuse to apologize for creating the modern world.” Aside from drinking Budweiser on a rooftop, their other challenge for the evening was figuring out how to put on their Pepe pins.
Each time I read about people like Ms. Fairbanks and the Proud Boys, I wonder: Can it get any worse? And I’m sorry to say, yes it can. Excising the Jews from the Holocaust Remembrance is too thoughtless even for these brain-dead illiberal xenophobes.
Referencing this new avenue of Holocaust denial from the White House is the epitome of disgusting. It is so disgusting I have no words to describe the muffensausen engulfing me. But, if you take the first letters of each of my paragraphs, somehow I have found the chutzpah for a special message to Lord Commander Marmalade.
What’s on your mind today?