A screaming eagle on fire, perched on a beam of steel

It’s been nineteen fucking years. The twentieth we’re keeping in reserve in Colorado lol. #TooSoon, of course. I was young then, so I feel kind of old now, no longer merely a freshman in this society where nobody is ever held responsible.

Not the ones who do the deeds, at least: remember, George W. Bush is a good liberal now. Even if he didn’t, uh, start the fire, he’s been on the record all along for ordering campaigns of official torture that would have gotten him hanged at Nuremberg.

It makes me feel like I’m having a stroke. Any Hannibal Lecter scumbag who doesn’t trick himself out with MAGA gear or talk trash about centrist celebrities is the #Resistance. My parents and their peers get really uncomfortable when I argue that Trump is not the most illiberal president of my lifetime and definitively is not the first illiberal, divisive, or immoral man to hold the office. Whenever I hear another round of that shit I point out that every other president going back to Reagan, my birth president, was at least as divisive, illiberal, and immoral as the current Oaf of Office, based on actual policy, not just the warm fuzzy feeling that they didn’t yell so much back then.

I think many liberals have spent the past twelve years but especially the past four doing everything they can to forget the horrors of the Bush-Cheney Regime. Trump doesn’t exactly have a Cheney figure; Barr comes close, but he’s a new kid on the block–preowned, actually–in an administration with exceptionally high churn and low institutional memory. If we’re actually looking to limit their damage, we should be grateful that they don’t know where anything is around the office. Few things stand between the Trump Administration and its missing administrative incompetence than the Donald’s own impulsiveness, disorganization, and drama.

This popular centrist derangement makes sense when we remember that the Democratic Party is a cult whose liturgies are set by Josiah Bartlet and folk devils exorcised by Rachel Maddow. We have always been at war with Eastasia, chap!

The Inner Party is mostly grifting; it’s again rid itself of its true threat, Bernie, and can now focus on cynically pretending to oppose Trump for being the worst ever. As long as Bernie isn’t their standard bearer and is given minimal influence over the platform and agenda, Chuck and Nancy truly do not care. They can work with Trump; the record shows that they regularly do exactly that.

The rank and file in the Outer Party take that bullshit much more seriously. This is what makes the cynicism of the Inner Party so heinous. The rich are ginning the merely affluent and in some cases the middling into hysteria so they’ll give more money. It’s despicable.

A spray-tan blowhard in elevator shoes calling people losers almost at random isn’t enough to make me forget or forgive the paranoid hysteria that erupted after 9/11. Bush and Cheney still deserve nothing but ill will for that. Most of the incumbent political class at the time does as well, including the Democrats. The mainstream media sure as hell do. I guess my memory and span of attention are longer than Trump’s. It’s cause for gratitude and relief that we haven’t had a definitive Reichstag Fire-ass casus belli on Trump’s watch. Compared to precedent within my adult life, this is no small mercy.

By the way, why the fuck do the Democrats have to slobber all over every general’s staff in exchange for his endorsement of their latest reviled shithead? Trump is bad, but he doesn’t make them good. Between the all-around weirdness of our old soldiers and spooks and the calamities they’ve made of our foreign engagements, maybe we ought to stop listening to a thing they tell us until we’ve confirmed it with someone we can trust.

Seriously, they’re bad news. Just by taking the usual Beltway shit less seriously Trump is an improvement. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either, but he’s less of a snake, and he calls bullshit from time to time. If we’re doing attack retrospectives, something too consider,,, about 9/11 is that the fourth anniversary of Pearl Harbor was celebrated under President MacArthur in Japan. We’re nineteen years out from an attack that served no clear military objective per se, still raping hornets’ nests abroad in countries whose regimes were vaguely or fictionally connected to the attacks, and meanwhile the Saudis are still our good buddies in spite of it all.

This must be why generals who thought, and still think, our military adventurism in the Middle East was necessary or justified or plainly good are now indispensable defenders of democracy against a Commander-in-Chief who occasionally says they’re full of shit. #Resistance dipshits don’t turn to them for backup just when Trump is mouthing off about not leaving office or pursuing a third term; they turn to them when he’s merely calling our foreign and military policy stupid, or said to have called our World War I dead losers and suckers. Talk about an ability to #NeverForget anything but the lessons of our worst wars.

Forgetting 9/11 wouldn’t be the worst thing we could do, especially when our remembrance has had such disastrous effects for so long, not just for other countries and nations but for our own. The only proper way to remember, it seems, is with the spicy memes. They do more to defend our freedoms than the US government has ever attempted in response to 9/11.

Losers and suckers

They want us dead. If our elected officials didn’t want their constituents dead, they’d show some sadness at the news of the suicide epidemics killing ordinary Americans, the number of Americans medicating themselves to death, and the frankly pandemic levels of suicidal ideation among the American poor. A 25% self-disclosure rate in response to a survey question about suicidal thoughts over the preceding month is not a case of the damn blues. It’s a pervasive mental health crisis, and our politicians good and goddamned well know it.

They don’t care. They’re aware of the opioid epidemic. They know it isn’t a bunch of recreational users who finally have the time to enjoy a dope set. They think it’s funny that despondent people who see no prospects for themselves for the rest of their lives are routinely found unresponsive in Sheetz bathrooms with hypodermic needles sticking out of veins non-users don’t even know they have. They think it’s funny when they become unresponsive by first becoming dead.

It’s a cruel joke to them. They wouldn’t blame entire communities that their own policies deliberately, strategically ruined for falling on hard times if they took their citizens’ grievances seriously. The fucking bumpkins expect us to hand out jobs like candy, they grumble; serves them right to die at 25 for dropping out of school and getting into dope. They should have learned to code.

I’m not joking about any of this. Ripping away people’s livelihoods, doing jack shit to get them into jobs offering them comparable or better pay and conditions, blaming them for being too backwards to do something else for a living in a business their elected officials don’t decide to destroy on a whim for profit, and telling them to shut up and take it like grown-ups is not anything officials do in a spirit of respect or duty or stewardship. It’s depredation, and it’s on purpose.

When Hillary Clinton bragged about how her administration was going to put a bunch of coal miners out of work, she didn’t speak inartfully. She said it because she thought it. Her thinking was as crude as she expressed it: we are going to destroy you. She didn’t mysteriously fail to articulate her thoughts about how she had environmental concerns and saw the market looking rough on account of all the gas coming online. If anyone should be prone to such thoughts, it should be a notorious former commodities trader. She didn’t mysteriously fail to articulate her ideas of how to get mining communities through the hard times and into a more sustainabble economy truly serving the needs of those taking part in it on the other side.

No. She was there to express her smug satisfaction with her own plan to punish the coal miners among her constituents, along with their families and neighbors. To heaven with me, to hell with them; I, of the Elect, righteously proclaim them damned for their sins.

Yeah, Hillary is a Main Line Methodist, not an old time religion Calvinist hardliner like Betsy DeVos. It’s crazy. It’s much too consider,,, But she reveled in the prospect of punishing coal miners for their sins by closing their mines and putting them out of work. Bernie didn’t, because he wasn’t Her, and he wasn’t entirely #WithHer. Hillary did. She wished wrath upon them. Truly that was the depth of her thot.

*****

The denunciations Trump catches for violating norms and being a crooked idiot are outrageous. Bill Barr rolled onto the scene and the usual suspects kept shrieking florid nonsense about Russia. I’d rather see them hold their fire for use on Dr. Strangelove, Pervert Enabler, but what the hell do I know. I read too much samizdat. I even write some.

Trump has committed literally countless impeachable offenses during his presidency. I don’t think I could accurately estimate within a margin of error of 100 how many times he has publicly suborned communal violence. It’s the next thing to background noise. That’s JUST the deal where video keeps killing the star of Radio Mille Collines, the thousand points of hi-fi audiovisual light. His two most recent predecessors committed numerous impeachable offenses of their own, with total impunity, and their predecessor committed some, excluding the government-rate Penthouse Letter about the plump Jewess in the blue dress. *Artfully licentious Stephanie Lazarus voice* Excuse me, I have my own attachment issues around handsome, charismatic men! I, too, am a Jew in blue! John!

Shit. Dan. Greg. Fancy seeing the two of you here. It’s pronouned “Rutten.”

The point, of course, is that Congress could have finally taken some damn action to shitcan the moist boy even though it demurred when Sonny and Mocha Haole committed even higher crimes, but the Russia tale wasn’t it. As I maintain, this was deliberate; the Democrats, or at least Chuck and Nancy and the gang, Bob McCulloch-style threw their own case. They still could take action to this day over, say, the Louis DeJoy scam: no mulligans for that shyster, Don; bitch you are fired.

These shady circumstances should theoretically inspire cognitive dissonance in the Outer Party. The problem is, I hesitate to deem them cognitive. This shit has turned their minds to goo. The Oaf still holds his office, the #resistance is still moaning fortissimo about Bircher nonsense that is somehow as soporific as it is deranged, and the base is still unshakably convinced that its party is a serious and crucial operation, desperately trying to save democracy at the eleventh hour, Winston Churchill as reinterpreted by the smarmiest, most self-important boors in the student government.

No, no, you don’t understand. We had to impeach him because we didn’t like the executive discretion he was using in foreign policy, but we can’t get ahead of ourselves and impeach him again just because the crook he put in as Postmaster General trashed the Post Office to goose the private logistics stocks in his portfolio, no matter how much we love getting insulin to our veterans and hate insider trading. We don’t have the political capital to impeach him again because he did something obviously awful that everybody hates. It just isn’t realistic. Now, if you’ll excuse me, Mother needs her afteroon gelato, you filthy serf.

We never see the limits of their power because they never exercise their power. The House Democrats could shove Trump and the Republican Senate Caucus up against the wall, if they wished, and tell them that either Trump fires DeJoy, the Senate fires Trump and DeJoy with him, or Senators go on the record defending the President for retaining and defending the crook while the USPS goes to pieces on their watch.

This stuff would actually make sense to the voting public. It would convince some of them that the Democratic Party actually has some backbone and that they for once have a good reason to humiliate our Thicc Moist Boi and boss him around. Everything about this scenario makes more sense than the Russia story.

That’s probably why the Democrats aren’t interested, aside from any mutually assured destruction blackmail pact. That’s also possible. Jeffrey had an unfortunate disease. Satyriasis. You should look it up sometime. I hardly knew Jeffrey. He had that horrible disease where he constantly needed to be boning some broad.

We’re well past the point at which the process should be winning outcomes. Lyndon Johnson wouldn’t be sitting around moping about how he has no persuasion or leverage over the Senate; he’d be bodily corncobbing T. F. Green into a fucking closet. It’s hard to believe that Democratic voters don’t realize on some level that their Congressional caucuses aren’t entirely serious about Trump. Mitch McConnell sandbagged Obama’s judicial slate and ran out the clock just to be an asshole, and meanwhile his Democratic counterparts are sitting around with their thumbs up their asses, wondering why their hands are going numb.

The Democratic base’s horror over Trump is mixed up and projected all over the place but largely heartfelt. They want him out. They’re desperate to force Biden over the top for exactly, and sometimes solely, this reason. This allows Biden, Harris, and their campaign to hold them hostage more effectively. Just look at the alternative, they blurt out. We have to vote for Joe.

Uh, who are we calling “us” here? YOU have to vote for those creeps; I don’t. Does that mean I’ll vote for the Donald for real this time? As we say online, fuck around and find out.

The tepidness and ambivalence of the endorsements Joseph and the Witch are picking up is amazing. There’s hardly even the positive feminist message Our Womanhood used last time for Her. Biden-Harris phonebankers are being trained NOT to say anything about the ticket’s platform. Just talk about how empathetic Joe is. The two of them are so warm. They’re making up a huge pile of shit about how that sundowning hairplugged car salesman-ass scumbag is a mensch. Pay no attention to the handsy stuff and the hairsniffing.

Good Lord do these two have the right stuff.

*****

When centrists complain in shock that we’ve never had such a divisive president, what they mean is that we’ve never in their memory had a president who got so messy in public and talked trash about people like themselves or celebrities they admire. The war on drugs, NAFTA, welfare “reform,” mass incarceration, No Child Left Behind, the ACA, and the entire war on terror were all plenty divisive. Busting PATCO and a bunch of meatpackers’ locals was divisive. Pretending to drink tap water in Flint instead of actually making the supply potable again was divisive. None of these fuckers since Jimmy Carter has made a credible effort to unite the country. Carter gets ridiculed to this day as a bleeding-heart pussy for more or less trying.

What stands out about the claim that Trump’s predecessors were uniters, not dividers, is that they all governed in ways that fucked shit up for the poor and lower middling, not the affluent or rich. The unions Reagan and his successors busted had members who were able to save up enough to be modestly affluent, but their busting demonstrated their members’ fundamental precarity. The upper strata are left mostly unmolested in the war on drugs. They’re able to exempt their children from bullshit standardized tests by enrolling them in private schools that leave other, poorer children behind. Flint is out of sight and out of mind, just like everything else about water in Michigan is kept to the extent its officials can enforce. The ACA’s Rube Goldberg horseshit is more navigable for them than for their social inferiors, it enshrines health insurance as a Veblen Good, and it even gets some of their failspawn policy jobs. Discount prison labor and the ratfucking of public benefits claimants makes the servants cheaper for the served.

The talented tenth came out on the blessed sides of these divisions, with occasional exceptions (the war on terror was and still is an all-around horror show). Their kids got the good jobs (or some of them did lol; biotchim whaddup). Their kids got to stay on mom and dad’s health plans through the bitter end of military draft age if they left college first.

Millions of 25-year-old have school-aged children of their own. The non-breeder parts of the upper middle class resent and fear Bristol Palin for personally showing that it doesn’t have to be a total clusterfuck, even if the baby daddy is. *Befuddled deadpan Larry King voice* You were herding sheep. They’re scared of their kids going native with childrearing proles in the same way the Puritan minister-governors of Massachusetts Bay and the joint stock company superintendents of Jamestown were of their citizens fleeing to live with Indians as Indians.

The main thing to keep in mind about the extended adolescence of college per se is that both this arrangement and the hot takes about twentager immaturity swirling around it are profit centers. A bunch of doofuses get to kick the can down the road for a few years and the savvier among them get to turn profits as well. The schools are asymmetrically cynical and crass about this shit; the rest of us aren’t nearly cynical or crass enough.

Even I burden it with too much honor. I shouldn’t wonder if I didn’t get enough out of a college that charged our parents $50k a year and then sent us “bills” upon graduation for the balance of expenses supposedly covered by annual funds and the endowment. That isn’t what any part of an organization does when its core mission is education.

Mocha Haole, being da smart kine, was careful to tacitly keep college looking good. We’re just trying to interact with pushy, neurotic yuppie shitheads more aloha. It’s generally college-educated parents who have health insurance their grown kids can use as dependents in the first place. College might start to look superfluous if any dumb bastard could check a box for a Medicaid card. I guess we’re expected to get jobs at 26 now. I’m not saying this is a good idea; I’m saying it’s the consensus. Don’t look at me. I’m not the fuckhead who set it up.

A 23-year-old with a child in kindergarten might normally figure, no shit, rich kids have an easier time being jagoffs. She might find it more objectionable that full health coverage is now a 100% guaranteed fringe benefit of that deal as well, especially if she comes from a poorer family and falls into one of the ACA’s strategic coverage gaps on account of arbitrary income guidelines.

This shit was designed to be divisive from the start. I don’t really care whether it was Obama’s fault or McConnell’s. They all spent months and countless thousands of pages of paper to give us, their constituents, an unwieldy pile of shit. Fuck them.

Every one of these pompous shits knows full well that Medicare and Social Security are almost universally popular because they’re universal programs. They chose to play mind games on the electorate for profit and sport. They chose to treat the children of the affluent as permanent sophomores because it manipulated votes out of them by exploiting their parents’ coarse class identity, and the adult children’s to the extent that ones other than me could stand to be belittled so by scummy elected officials.

Centrists insist these were necessary compromises. In that case, fuck compromise. Nobody who gets actual services from elected officials gives a rat’s ass about compromise, either. I despise Barack Obama because he condescended to people like me by treating us as failures to launch who needed our parents’ insurance plans instead of just mailing everybody in the country a fucking Medicaid card. I don’t fucking care how much of a failure I was; it was still Mocha Haole’s civic duty to treat me and people I took to be like me with full respect as voters ready to punish him if he stepped out of line or else forfeit my vote and never ask a thing of me again, personally or by proxy.

This is what Tip O’Neill called local politics. It doesn’t get any more local than the Independent Republic of Oneself. I’m the first voter to be unabashedly selfish in the same way that I’m General Stroganoff of Tsarist Russia, where beef has YOU!

Serve me or shut the fuck up. I’m absolutely serious. Elected officials who put themselves through campaigns every two years for positions that, by firm Constitutional regulation, have one opening per 764,000 residents or some shit act like I’m not doing enough for them as a citizen. Excuse me? They aren’t doing enough for me. I’m sure it’s easier to pick blueberries, but if the $174k plus per diem allowances and other expenses for an optional-show job is so awful they can always quit.

The selfishness of individual voters averages out into whatever the fuck we’re currently calling politics. If you or I don’t get our way, some other selfish bastard will get his. The only reason any of these fuckers sit around in salons and preen about their own civility is that either a plurality of their voting constituents or else some disturbed recluse with think tank money can stand them. They’ll shut the fuck up and do work the moment their pollsters warn them that their smugness may be bringing a critical mass of hostile elements to the polls.

Of course they have to be pressured to do their jobs. They get two-year contracts with statistically low chances of nonrenewal and practically zero chance of extraordinary termination between elections (James “Deep Pile Jimmy” Traficant). Many of them seceded from the real world years ago. Fancy Nancy ventures deeper into the Land of Make-Believe by the month. Their advertising budgets are obscene.

These aren’t slacker dipshits who can be fired from jobs doing yard work because they keep running the mower caddywampus into the hedges. They’re supremely powerful and insulated, and many of them are supremely arrogant. This is true of elected officials at all levels, just truer as they rise higher. They need to have their fucking feet held to the fire. Maybe, God and Country willing, the verbal abuse I phone in to Fancy Nancy’s Capitol Hill comment line will aggregate with enough other constituents’ verbal abuse to get her aides to break it to her that we hate her for a reason.

It’s disgraceful to degrade oneself clamoring for a job like that and then, after getting it, to piss and moan or have proxies piss and moan about how hostile it is. Yeah, genius, that means it’s working as designed. You’re fucking up and hearing about it from your victims.

Think about what it takes to act like it’s unfair to be ridiculed and rebuked by no-name losers for displeasing them as the holder of a very well-paid elected office with some of the most lenient attendance and performance standards in the world. Think about what it takes to convince one private citizen to criticize another for being so unfair and cynical as to call Nancy Pelosi an unaccountable psychopath. I dunno. She’s filthy rich, she has access to all sorts of inside stock tips, she lives in several different palaces, she represents a rotten borough that has been purged of its poor on a systematic ongoing basis for decades, she ran Marion Berry Bitch Set Me Up game on her hairstylist after she got caught getting an indoor haircut in violation of public health orders, and she’s always sneering. You tell me.

It seems much more prudent to presume any of these fuckers psychopaths pending evidence that they are not than to presume them decent pending the almost inevitable evidence that they’re evil. It’s especially insufferable to be scolded for judging politicians too harshly by people whose assessments of Trump are virulently denunciatory. They don’t like him. I don’t like a bunch of other politicians but don’t care for him much either. Some of our faves may be implicated. Many such cases!

It’s not like anybody gets results by actually putting foolish credence in politicians. That’s an act. Voters who get the goods either bug the shit out of their officials or hire lobbyists to bug them. Direct action gets the goods, too, in case you’re really looking to make centrists squeamish.

*****

The carrying-on about what an idiot Trump is for pushing tariffs is revealing. Tariffs are bad for business, we’re told. Yeah, what do we mean by “business?” NPR can always get some guy with a steel fabrication business to bitch about how he needs cheap Chinese steel to make ends meet, because shithead business owners would never go on the radio and lie. I don’t see why we can’t also make steel, not just use imported raw steel in our manufacturing. This is a big country. /Annoying little Mexican girl meme/ Why Not Both?

It’s convenient how the neoliberal cotnern-trolling on NPR, MSNBC, and the likes aligns so neatly with the class interests of their affluent listeners. Somehow the offshoring is good for their portfolios. Imagine that.

We’re back to material interests. Good. This means we aren’t getting distracted by another round of Boys State hocus-pocus about process and civility. Lose me with that shit. We really need to run a regular weasel flush on affluent voters who insist that they’re advocating not for their own interests but for the interests of out-of-state industrial workers NPR picked at random. They’re happy with the incumbent political class, probably including Trump more than they want to admit, because the incumbent political class consistently delivers them the goods.

This certainly applies to their satisfaction with haughty asshats like Pelosi. I didn’t say I think she wants permanently affluent voters dead; I said she wants losers like me dead, and that’s a judgment I’ll make case by case on my damn own before I vote. I’d believe this less if Nancy fucking did some shit for me, but I’m not holding my breath.

One of my favorite definitions of elected officials is that they’re the people we pelt with rotten tomatoes until they build a tram stop by our favorite bakery. It’s a crass understanding, but look, nobody votes for politicians NOT to do that. Please. If upper-middle-class voters are satisfied with neoliberal shitheads like Chuck and Nancy because their stocks and home equity are doing well, that’s disappointing, but at least it’s honest. At least it doesn’t force me to read between the lines again.

The last thing I can stand is another Schoolhouse Rock shuck and jive about how basic constituent services other governments have been providing without incident for decades are impossible in the United States because it’s hard to pass a bill. Nuh-uh. Nancy you work for me my good bitch. Do work.

What is it good for?

Regardless of whether or not Donald Trump in fact refused to visit a WWI battlefield cemetery in France because the American war dead buried in it were “losers” and “suckers,” the story is hella funny. The Doughboys WERE losers and suckers for dying for that bullshit. We shouldn’t need the Donald’s insight to notice this.

Since we’ve now received it, however, either as true witness or as scurrilous fun, we get to hear every sanctimonious centrist Beltway chickenshit with an axe to grind about Trump’s constitutinal crises, prolific corruption, breaches of sacred norms, and messy bitch antics intone about how shocking and scandalous it is that our thicc moist boi, the Oaf of Office, would DARE speak ill of our fatally wounded warriors.

The Vet Respecters have logged the fuck on, to make sure we never hear the fucking end of it. Many of them look down on our current military personnel with casually homicidal contempt. Much of the scolding we hear about the need to thank them for their service comes from deferment wranglers and other loudmouthed cowards who use the children of their social inferiors as board pieces in a real life game of Risk. Much of the rest comes from noncombat personnel and veterans swarming the Pentagon and its contractor satellites doing God knows what–my guess, as always, is not a hell of a lot–under the hilarious conceit of national defense. Ask not how Broad-Bangin’ Jack can do you; ask how you can do your country.

Whether we’re enjoying the nonfictional or the fictional version, Trump hit the nail on the head about how cucked our boys were to agree to ship out and become Salisbury steak tartare in Greater Belgium to satisfy the egos of a bunch of titled German degenerates who were upset with their cousins. They were all related to each other, and few of them just once. The Habsburgs were an entire lineage of intensifyingly retarded Latino Rachel Dolezal. That’s the quality of people who were ruling Europe. Victoria’s son and heir Edward was a total ditz. Britain went to war for a belligerent rabble of brass band drunkards and one branch of a degenerate extended family where being a dimwitted failson good at nothing but boning Irish camp followers was no obstacle to inauguration as the head of state.

They would have crowned Elon Musk, Cartman, and Timmy in uninterrupted succession if they’d been in line for the throne. More than a few of them made the imminent Charles III look dignified AND handsome.

Spending months getting gassed in a shitty mud pit for any of them over some incomprehensible treaty obligations a bunch of kraut bigshots had to abruptly activate because one of their kin had gotten whacked by a no-name hunky really is cucked. The First World War was the dumbest fucking war ever fought: no natural resources in dispute, no moral objectives, shockingly ugly conditions on the front.

Anybody who deserted that horror show was wise and righteous. So is pointing out that there was no glory or good repute in sticking around, toughing it out, and getting dead at eighteen. There is indeed some corner of a foreign field that is forever suckers.

Whoever wins this November, Oaf of Office or First State Skull Pudding, we’re facing another four years of lectures from bloodless psychopaths and their equally bloodless asskissers about the need to respect Our Troops (just not those with criticisms of war), Rick Snyder, our other very worst Third Way-curious governors, the Intelligence Community, and a grab bag of other shitsnakes and servile milquetoasts. Our war dead are already props for various Strangelovian adventures; there’s no reason they can’t also be props for tertiary-syphilitic fantasy fiction about how President Bartlet always respected our servicemen (and women!). Cheerio, m’cunt!

Hoosier favorite Hoosier faggot?

Andrew Yang debased himself into deep homophobic cringe in that excruciating comedy (sic) sketch about Mike Pence with Julia Louis-Dreyfus because Louis-Dreyfus is an A-List celebrity worth $400m. That’s what we call causation. Wealth alienates those holding it from the real world. This is worrisomely hard to explain to the normies, but it’s some basic shit. What on earth about Louis-Dreyfus or anyone else at her station sounds normal, let alone ordinary? She’s unfathomably rich and surrounded by servants 24/7. Hollywood is full of supremely arrogant divas who take the servants to include Gavin De Becker and Benjamin Brafman. On-call retainers swoop in at a moment’s notice to clean up any mess. Not all maids are Mexicans.

With rare exceptions, celebrities are abnormal, and the prominent among them all the more powerfully so. Michael Jackson’s entrancingly tragic career shows what can happen when the extreme wealth and power of celebrity suffuse a person with unhealed childhood trauma. Other celebrities are object lessons in the ill effects of giving the same wealth and power to the belligerently arrogant (Mel Gibson), the all-around cruel (Ellen DeGeneres), the hypomanic (Charlie Sheen; Tom Cruise), addicts (Charlie Sheen; Lindsay Lohan), those with intractable sexual resentments (Harvey Weinstein), the more generally sexually disordered (Woody Allen), the violently sexually reactive (Phil Spector), other styles of perverts (too many to count), or narcissists (ditto). Many such cases!

We’re all aware of celebrity perversion; the gossip rags see to it. It’s obvious, then, why celebrities ought to be used sparingly in politics: their deployment as proxies is high-stakes, and they’re very often too extremely idiotic to offer a credible upside to campaigns. They work best when the voting public is every bit as idiotic, a situation many would call standard operating procedure. An assumption of popular idiocy doesn’t work as well as it did a generation or two ago, on account of the internet. It’s impossible to direct widespread idiocy from the top down anymore.

The legacy media understandably resent this. Cronkite, they intone, told it the way it was. It’s fascinating that the major networks were the province of eminent gentlemen of the news, of Murrow and Sevareid and Rather, and never of a dumbed-down sleazeball like Pat Sajak. Does Connie Chung bring back greasily unsettling memories? Goodness, I, for one, always expected better of Maury Povich’s wife.

A big bunch of shady characters are chronically resentful of the breakup of the manufactured consent-industrial complex. They never cared for that sweet antitrust action of the free (lol) market. Sensing their looming semirelevance, the political gatekeepers coarsened their sexual shtick, most bracingly with the shitty saxophonist Bill Clinton, a man whom neither boxers nor briefs could keep continent of slick willie. They’d been more demure about His Vigor Broad-Bangin’ Jack; Christ, Bobby, this isn’t the comic books section in the Bowery heyah. By the surprisingly gay nineties, they saved their discretion for flyover country he-frumps like Dennis Hastert and clumsily weird squares like Larry Craig, unconcerned that John Spritzgerald Kennedy at his soapiest dindu nun wah Denny Dundiddly dun.

Public sexual coarseness in American politics, even presidential politics, dates back at least as far as partisanship in Congress. Washington didn’t care for any of that, but Jefferson and Adams did. There have, however, been periods when this sort of seediness was towards the margins of American political culture. For example, it’s historically been rare for partisan conventions to explicitly sexualize candidates on the main stage.

This manifestation of self-respect in politics is missing lately, along with a number of others. It’s painful. Class analysis, the determination of who gets to take whose shit, isn’t fundamentally any more refined, but it tends to crowd out obnoxious idpol bullshit, and idpol wedges are routinely used to distract voters from economic platforms they may find distasteful or unacceptable, i.e., from class analysis.

Here’s the question. Do you want to allocate our collective resources through a political process focusing on the allocation of available resources, or do you prefer to do it through a pissing match about who’s gay? Our elites continue to reaffirm their choice. It is to judge booty. Our preferences may differ, but if that’s the case, they sure as hell didn’t ask us.

*****

Pay attention to what the party kingmakers do to Democratic candidates whose normal inclination is to stay above that seedy shit. Bernie Sanders, who has too strong a sense of dignity to take sexually coarse bait, just emerged from his second primary ratfucking in two successive primaries. Andrew Yang, who is goofier, needier, and more suggestible, debased himself in that cringe-ass standup routine about Mike Pence being gay because Julia Louis-Dreyfus and company thot it was a good idea.

This is where we find ourselves. A slick faculty brat gentrification thug from South Bend is the good kind of Indiana Gay; a slick hard-right talk radio grifter from Columbus is the bad kind. Mike Ponce, Mike Nonce, What Eva: We run with the cool kind of homosexual, a man from South Bend, first name Peter, last name Booty Judge, husband’s name Chasten.

The Democratic Party is fulfilling its civic pledge to give proof through the night that the fag is still there. Surely a state the size of Indiana has nonpsychopathic gay guys, too, but who cares? Mayor Pete is so inspiring! He’s so unifying!

Inspiring and unifying of what, though? Again, the omissions paint a rich picture. Like Obama in his own prime time and Bush the Younger in Trump’s, he unifies the affluent with the good feelings about their politics that they wish to enjoy along with their money. Trump yells a lot, you see. He makes people feel bad by yelling. He shouldn’t do this in our politics. He shouldn’t do this TO our politics. His predecessors weren’t screaming meanies. They were nice.

It helps to forget the terrible things the center-left constantly had to say about W during his presidency, many of them appropriate to his conduct and some of them understated. It REALLY helps to forget about the Patriot Act, Gitmo, the second Gulf War, and the rest of that big basket of fun. Obama has never come close to the very partial reckoning W faced, and it’s a matter of national consensus that the nineties, back before the Bush family organization did its naughty little thing, mostly in New York, were a time of national innocence.

What we actually mean is immaturity. One of the lines of evidence used to push this stupid narrative is the popularity of the Seinfeld show, our girl Julia’s old hangout. I’ll be sure to ask Ricky Ray Rector for recommendations on later episides next time I see him.

It would help if the arguments people who get paid to comment on politics made were grounded in nonfictional politics, not fictional stories about some friends hanging out in the living room. The nostalgia is for make-believe versions of the nineties, as we’re shown all too well by the continuing obsession with that bitch-ass Bartlet. That cracker is made up, and he was made up to sanitize a Clinton administration that had already been scrubbed good and hard for polite enjoyment. It’s a second-order delusion.

Rector’s execution fits all too neatly into the black lives matter narrative. So do so many of our executions. So does capital punishment as an American institution. On the other hand, we don’t want to say bad things about a charming, beloved president emeritus just for having one poor bastard killed in cold blood purely for political advantage. The mob can have a little Barabbas, as a treat.

Forget Lewinsky and all the adulterers and closet cases she scandalized on Pennsylvania Avenue. The definitive vignette of Clinton’s character as a president was his campaign trip back to Arkansas to execute the dessert afterwards guy. I knew he was a psycho from the start, and I was only ten.

This is the point at which we start discovering just how many Americans–not just people anywhere in the distant abstract, but our own–are expendable as pawns in the great game of moderate politics. The Big Dog had to perform a human sacrifice for the Electoral College, you see. He had to show swing voters that he was tough on crime to win election, and with it the opportunity to govern liberally.

That very premise is utterly amoral and rather inept, and sure enough, as President, Bill folded every time some sleazy busybody with a closet full of sexual skeletons called him a dirty liberal. Instead of Joycelyn Elders, he gave us the Defense of Marriage Act. The worst voters in the country had to be placated. The master triangulator focus-grouped the bigots first and foremost. If there’d ever been anything liberal worth a damn about that ghoul, we would never have blundered anywhere near the position in which it was more politically inflammatory to encourage teenagers to carry condoms in their purses (Be Prepared!) than to execute a guy retarded enough to set his pie aside for the evening.

We can see where some of the hostility arises towards face masks in our time of global sickness. Fascist argumentation has, unsurprisingly, driven psychotic ideation about personal and public hygiene. It’s other people who get dirty and sick. Duh. Gentlemen surgeons have no need to wash their hands. Huh. Maybe medicine has a historical problem with fascism of its own.

It’s a poorly kept secret that the Third Way crew is viscerally uncomfortable with the poor. All we have to do is compare Hillary’s demeanor around the poor and their surroundings to Bernie’s. It’s night and day.

If individual poor can pull themselves up by the bootstraps under the cherished neoliberal framework, excellent; they make neoliberalism look as wonderful as themselves. Not so much if they get use public assistance to take care of their families, or if they collectively bargain through unions assertive enough to steamroll management and capital, or if they decide Trump is better for them than Her and vote accordingly. At that point, they suddenly don’t understand their own interests. They’re self-destructive idiots, voting for Elmer Gantry to dispossess themselves.

The Third Way would have said the same thing about William Jennings Bryan. This shit has nothing to do with policy, as the Democratic establishment shows time and time again. What they mean when they say that the poor vote against their own interests is that the poor vote against the interests of the affluent, as asserted by mealymouthed centrist Democrats. Tu casa es mi casa, pendejo. It’s what Mencius Moldbug called a nostrism. Bitch, who’s “us?”

NAFTA was good for the country. Okay, who the hell is the country? Who the hell is the economy? Can the fuckers even distinguish between the overbearing rich assholes who own the factory and the working stiffs who actually run it? Another whiny prick who blew the proceeds of his fabrication business on framed sports memorabilia is on NPR to bitch about how he *needs* discount Chinese steel to compete on the mercilessly competitive market. What the fuck does that do for a town full of people who got laid off when the hot mill closed, whose kids are now floundering on the margins somewhere between dead-end jobs at Dollar General and an archipelago of dope squats? What are the aggregate numbers worth? Who puts food on the table in the fucking aggregate?

Ah, swamp critters with think tank salaries and portfolios to defend. Of course.

They can’t possibly imagine they’ll win disaffected voters over by thundering on high from their 90% model minority (Asian/White) neighborhoods in Arlington that Trump’s supporters are on his side because they’re all unrepentant, incorrigible racists and sexists. Can they? Some of them are delusional enough to believe it, but the bigger impetus is their burning desire to humiliate and punish their inferiors. It’s the same thing they in the ACA with the individual mandate and the doubling down on affluent parents as the channel of health insurance for downwardly mobile young people whose age peers were already raising their own school-age children. Fuck you for not having insurance. Fuck you for not having a job. Fuck you for not deftly and happily Navigating The Marketplace.

Fuck you for thinking the company owes you a decent job doing something else if it won’t give you a decent job on the floor at the mill. Learn to code, bitch. Stack cash with Uber. Fuck you for not having a 110% serviceable late-model car. Invest in yourself. Fuck you for not finishing college.

And of course, fuck you for not voting for us. Why are you such a bitter uneducated racist? This abrasive lace curtain Irish car salesman-ass shithead from the Commonwealth of Chancery Court, LLC, and his creepy diversity office dungeon mistress lieutenant from the sniveling part of San Francisco (which one?), aslo a prosecutor, are here to defend you against predators.

Just trust us, for God’s sake. You ain’t black if you don’t. Why are you asking me about guns, punk? Let’s take it outside.

A bonechilling faculty brat sellout whose whole career reads as proof that affirmative action and Title IX are vectors of capricious discrimination is here riding shotgun to Bhad Bhabie with hair plugs, and we’re supposed wholeheartedly believe them decent, empathetic people, committed public servants looking out for us always.

There’s much to be said for voting for Trump expressly to punish these ghouls back. It isn’t hugely much; the #resistance is right that Trump’s bad. Maybe Nancy could fucking do something about him, then, like not expedite his homeland security wish lists. Mitch McConnell jammed up Barack Obama’s judicial appointments just to be an asshole. There’s no procedural reason Chuck and Nancy can’t both run a turtle-speed train on Trump’s entire agenda until he at long last behaves himself. Instead, Lady Gelati won’t even play good cop to Rashida Tlaib’s bad cop. She won’t even be Captain Queegan, sympathetically but firmly warning a punk to shape up and watch his ass, to Macky Mack, Steyaff Seaagent.

Good God is that an odd squad. It’s no wonder, then, that the convention featured a jarring juxtaposition between Pete Buttigieg waxing earnest about how he wasn’t allowed to live his gay truth until Obama and Biden finally allowed it with Julia Louis-Dreyfus’s obnoxious gag about Mike Pence being a perv and a fag. It’s no wonder that Yang got ganged into taking part in that extreme cringe. They would have decked him out in Kente if he’d been in town for that helping of spicy Jollof rice.

There’s zero principle to any of this shit. The orchestrators don’t care about the welfare or survival of ordinary African-Americans. They don’t care about sexual liberties. Our smarmy phony is good for being gay; your self-righteous demagogue is bad for being gay. Hurr durr Trump and Putin are butt buddies. First of all, that’s too improbable to consider, but what do coarse schoolyard taunts add to the already weak case that Trump is Putin’s Manchurian Candidate? Besides, we/ve known for years that the Saudis don’t need to personally sex our officials to have their way with them.

This is the party of sexual privacy as a human right, if you can believe it. Can they just let him have a private sex life and focus on something that matters? They’re studiously silent about the Epstein affair, the great Implicator of Faves. Maybe this would be a good time for shysters running cover for an international child sex trafficking organization to demur about their salacious speculation that Mike Pence is a switch hitter. It’s obnoxious, it’s stupid, it’s morally and civically derelict, and it isn’t going to win them a single vote.

Fancy them caring about that, though.

The Democrats are impressively unfunny. They raise it into something approaching an art. As performance bits go it’s excruciating, but there’s something awesome about their dedication to inept self-seriousness so total as to produce political standup routines with all the lameness of Jimmy’s summer camp set on South Park but none of the entertainment value.

Maybe comedy, too, is that polarized. Shit. It’s confusing to come across so many liberals who see absolutely nothing funny about the Oaf of Office when he waxes rude about “college students, crummy students, great students, horrible students, dumb people, liberal people, conservative people….people with PhD’s from MIT, people with PhD’s from crummy colleges.” Their objections to him are aesthetic: Barry and now even George the Younger barely register with them for having done things that were just as bad. Paradoxically, this keeps them from enjoying the amazing aesthetic gifts he brings to the presidency.

Again, this shit is a distraction from the people’s business, which the Democratic Congressional caucuses steadfastly refuse to do. If they brought serious articles of impeachment against him and eighty-sixed his ass, he’d be free that night to get airtime for blurting out the same ridiculous shit as ever, just not from a high public office invested with the most frightening powers.

The Democrats care about aesthetics. What distinguishes them from the Republicans is that theirs are atrocious. A small community of squeamish nerds digs that shit and everybody else hates it. The Epic Clapback could have been fun, but Fancy Nancy doesn’t know how to have fun. The giorno di gelati came close, but it, too, was overly performative and forced. Nobody had fun at the Kente Cloth Kneeling Ceremony. They don’t enjoy delivering their lectures.

They’re too desperate to defeat an opponent they refuse to meaningfully oppose to enjoy Funny Uncle Joe’s recurrent brain scrambles, which–let’s be honest–are hella funny. “Covid has taken this year, just the outbreak, has taken more than one hundred year–Look, here’s it–The lives, it’s just, it’s–I mean, think about it, more lives this year than any other year in the past hundred years.” If it’s okay to ridicule anyone for talking like that, Joe’s it. He’s a psychopath pretending to be a left-liberal and a reactionary authoritarian at once, nominated for the presidency on the cusp of eighty because his crooked party fixed the primaries on his behalf, appearing in public with a skull full of watered-down Quaker Instant Oats.

Why can’t we make fun of his cokehead son? He got the kid sinecures with Amtrak and Burisma. I make fun of Larry Kudlow for being a cokehead, too. They aren’t all that shitty, but a lot of them are. Rob Ford is okay, though; dudes rock!

It’s not like the Trump Organization, which we actually have good reasons for calling that, isn’t crawling with shambolic characters and covered in the splatter of their hilarious substance abuse problems. Steve Bannon seems like one the Dems could fun to good effect. Our boy Stephen Kevin decided to bamboozle the griftable with a story about how he was going to Build The Wall, privately, on federal property, with their donations. The only thing that chunky dunker was about to build was another mound of corned beef and cabbage to ward off the whiskey munchies. Can you believe it?

Bannon, like his donors, had what the Massachusett elders called Lassen Knee Innis Hat. Did I ever tell you about the time Vladimir Putin rode a tiger all the way through the taiga? Somehow, these stories only ever get worse; that one’s so headspinning I can hardly bear to tell it myself. Can you believe they got Charlie off and gave him his own checkpoint? CHAHLEE! My favorite Vova anecdote, though, is about the time he joined a search party to look for a group of old hunters who’d been friends in the war, a Czech, a Brit, and a Frenchman. The search party came across two exceptionally plump and sated bears. Uh-oh. Vladimir Vladimirovich drew his sword and with a single deft stroke sliced open the belly of the sow, revealing the Brit and the Frenchman. Turning to his horrified companions with a shrug and a smirk, he said, “Well, I guess the Czech’s in the male.”

That was free, whatever the hell it was supposed to be. The wall isn’t. When I first read about Bannon’s wall grift, I assumed he was hard up for cash after living beyond his means. Then I read that he was worth $48m, acid enough for as many hot tubs and trips as he desired. It turns out what he did was almost archetypal: people who study white-collar crime say it’s never the guy making $80k who goes crooked for a windfall of $3m, but always the guy making $3m who cheats for an extra $80k.

That tubby old parrothead-looking-ass lush stacked the cash because he was totally gonna build the wall. They had to send a crew of Coasties and Posties out to bring him back from #YachtLife. What the hell was wrong with him? Switzerland doesn’t have a maritime border, but Costa Rica does. You might want to Christopher cross into waters that don’t fall under our extradition treaties, big guy.

Whale oil beef hooked, Huizenga, it is a hearty Colcannon. Mercy, my Dutch love, oil beef hentai Eire leaf hooked to lie me yeas upon the flue of lard sloughing off that greasy hot cross bun.

That was rude. I guess we should just let the make-believe Veep call the real Veep a fag instead. Vote for Cuomo, not the homo. *Impossibly annoyed Alan Chartock bedtime voice* I’ve always wondered when the party would run a colored man for that office.

Financing the farm

The real estate market in Palo Alto is its own circle of mentally ill hell, so it’s conceivable that Stanford is partially exposed to its downsides, not just its upsides. It’s farfetched, but the market and the entire community enabling it are so unbalanced that it’s a little something too consider, just in case the fund managers do the math wrong or misread the investment markets and bet it all on duds.

Still, what Scott Galloway had to say in this interview is hard to believe. The Junior University had to cut student sports programs during a cash crunch because the endowment assets theoretically available for liquidation to make up the deficits in question had to be kept available for capital calls. The mechanics of this arrangement make my head spin, but if I follow, a number of counterparties are currently using Stanford’s endowment as collateral to secure venture capital for whatever dicey gee-whiz get-rich-quick schemes they think they can dream into existence.

That’s what Silicon Valley has been since the first dot-com bubble. Webvans? What the fuck do you fools know about grocery delivery that Safeway doesn’t? Not much, as it turned out. The deal is, you go to a special subprime financial district that for some reason lends at superprime rates–this is Sand Hill Road–and tell your fellow industry assholes about how you need some absurd amount of seed money for your latest dipshit business proposal that will totally turn a profit sometime in the next year to century, the idea being that the funders get an equity stake or some shit.

It’s odd, since the borrowers are such blindingly bright brain geniouses, that they can’t just go to a bank, which probably doesn’t have lending standards itself. It’s probably that the interest is too high and some of the bank officers aren’t gullible idiots. “We’re working on a huge unlicensed cab company where we make random proles drive their own cars for our computer.” Yeah, that ain’t it, Chief.

Go up Sand Hill, though, and suddenly it’s as good a reason as any other to dump money down the shitter for a decade or two on end, under a bizarre business model that comes closest to profitability when its jitney hacks are on strike. The ride service is a permanent loss leader for a long-game monopoly scheme premised on robotic cars that are secretly operated by remote control.

Where else would Elizabeth Holmes go for funding? Here’s a crude rich bitch with horrible hair and a turtleneck runing girl boss Steve Jobs game on her investors, staring at them with her Stephanie Lazarus eyes in a vocal register lowered so artlessly that Hrycyk would roll her straight into a fucking cactus patch from the top of Elysian Park for trying that fucking Dale Carnegie bullshit on him. Okay, that’s more like what Rampart Narcotics would do, because why the fuck did you think we went into narcotics, pendejo, but just because you’re a crazy freak doesn’t mean you have to be a crazy, stupid, badly dressed, badly coiffed, ineptly flimflamming freak.

An impressive collection of Stanford eminences funded that bugeyed bitch. George Schultz got into a family feud with his own grandson, who was concerned about his financial judgment for getting taken in by a nubile dropout with a pushy pitch. Meanwhile Steph bought her own art supplies.

Merit and passion–the real deal, not the marketing version–are the province of the upper middle class, not the upper class. As I point out from time to time, Art Theft was what kept Lazarus off RHD, where she would have been assigned to investigate herself. Nobody involved with Theranos investigated so much as how existing state-of-the-art blood tests compared to what Holmes was pitching.

We really need to realize how many rich people are truly stupid. Ooh, this coed is cute, and she talks real low. They all fell for that shit just as hard as Frizzy Lizzie dropped it on their jowly superannuated asses.

There are many reasons to expropriate their excess wealth, and this is one. Elon Musk is another. He’s even worse. The guy who serially fucked up a car company’s production, delivery, and finances, who had the FCC ordering him to stop posting, is now saying he put a computer chip in a pig’s brain. Yeah, and I’m just back from putting my chip in Carley Gomez’s dataport. Two questions come to mind: 1) Can that guy be trusted with a pig, Mr. Cameron?; and 2) Did he actually do that to the pig?

No, David, it’s live.

If Musk didn’t blow his credibility on Tesla, we might hope he did when he mouthed off about how he was the unassailable world expert in cave exploration and called an actual expert a pedophile for turning down his offer of a submarine to rescue a lost school group on a mission that ultimately killed a Thai Navy diver. This is the same fuckhead who’s always talking about how he’s totally gonna put cars in a subway tunnel and hook them up to a magnetic aircraft carrier launch cable or whatever the fuck. Why wouldn’t he? He’s exactly the asshole who would combine the capacity limitations of the Morgantown PRT with the service area of the Fred Rogers Living Room Line and call himself a visionary because he’s trucker-tweaked in public again.

Everything about Elon Musk screams aristocratic degeneracy. Research scientists don’t carry on about their own beautiful omniscience. People who know stuff know what they don’t know. They want to learn shit from other people who know things they don’t. It’s hard to find structural engineers who work on tunnels for a living and recreate by flaming strangers for being pedophiles when they turn down unsolicited offers of rescue submarines.

This is behavior fit for a seventh-grade bully. Coming from a corporate officer, it’s utterly disgraceful.

That’s the kind of shithead who’s collateralizing Stanford’s endowment money. It’s tied up with coked-up flimflamming braggarts who need to be cunt-punted into the Bay. Does Elon look like he’s employable? Does he look capable of getting a small business loan from anyone who isn’t a doofus or a sleazeball?

Silly fat white me, I thot Stanford would carry insurance to protect its endowment against major losses. Instead it appears to trade on margin with the principal. Oops, we misplaced the athletic budgets again. Guess it’s time to reactivate the donor pool!

It has to be just swell to pay 110% of the median household income or some shit to take remote correspondence courses with this outfit in our time of sickness. The computer allows us to make audiovisual friends with fellow members of the community historically including Elizabeth Holmes, Ellie Clougherty, Joseph Lonsdale, and Brock Turner.

At least Blondie can’t bodily rape a bitch under the current dispensation of college. *Hardened Weiner Voice* Where’s the fun in that? We’re all on the computer now! Zoom zoom, from Tony’s trousers straight into your room!

Bright college daze

This is, in countries without recent histories of extreme wartime devastation, the worst time in a century to go to college. It’s a terrible time to go to school in general. Anything besides cautiously supervised lab practica should be on hold until the Ailment is credibly under control. We aren’t there yet, so #TeshTips, my good binch: school is out.

What’s actually happening, of course, is nothing like what I just described. A small number of students in nursing, medicine, welding, and other curricula that require meatspace study are dwarfed, as always in these degenerate United States, by hordes of students who have no particular reason to enroll, let alone study, other than Mother And Father Would Be Upset. Do we want to risk the ridicule of our psychiatrically unstable striver friends for just kind of hanging around, in the same fashion as our little friend from Fort Detrick? Of course not.

The schools are here to capitalize on it. That’s a whole-ass Men’s Warehouse Guarantee, right there. My alma mater, Dickinson College, appears to have responded to the pandemic relatively reputably, the standard being the apparent failure to commit outright fraud on individuals enrolling their money for the coming academic year. That is, the administration didn’t announce the reopening of campus in time to collect room and board fees, then close back up for the semester just after the cutoff date to apply internally for a refund.

I’m sure America’s institutions of higher education run their Title IX sex crimes tribunals in a manner too just and competent for their rulings ever to be held constitutionally unenforceable in a court of law. Campus housing is often barely inhabitable in the best of times, but because we can’t just, like, teach our adolescents adult skills, but insist on putting them through bullshit rites of passage, it’s considered worthy and not at all embarrasing to complain about dorms that do NOT resemble Chinatown SRO’s. We aren’t building enough character in our young.

Yeah, how about you go build character out on that ice floe.

The lawsuits are already starting, exactly as any no-backs slumlord shyster affiliated with $100k-plus in declared endowment assets per current customer should have expected in the global leader in lawyers. The schools just can’t help themselves. It’s amazing. They actually send lawyers out to argue that word is bond and their mentally competent customers freely signed contracts whose clearly stated terms included a cutoff date to request refunds. Yeah, and you know what else was in the fucking terms? Four months in accommodations that were vacated and shuttered after two weeks.

The defense attorneys here didn’t just show up after the fact to a mess they had no idea their clients had made. The only reason these schools have defense lawyers contest any of these claims instead of immediately providing full refunds on demand is to further their fraud. Most parents and students wouldn’t go through with suits if they received prompt refunds, even if there were credible prospects of additional damages. They’d cut their losses and be done with the headache. Many of our schools wish to screw their customers over anyway. To do that in these circumstances, they need lawyer accomplices.

Additional information is available in O. J. Simpson’s new book, with Kim Kardashian, “If Bob Did It.”

Really, though, collecting full tuition for the balance of the Spring 2020 term after the end of instruction in person or for the joke of a fall term now upon us is indefensible. We all know, somewhere deep down inside, or maybe somewhere not so deep, that online education is a joke. C’mon, do you really call that college? Any ridiculous outfit in this sleazy country is allowed to print out diplomas with some bollocks in Latin and call itself a college or a university: Corinthian, De Vry, Phoenix, USC. Until this year, the main reason we maintained the polite fiction that online education is just as valid as brick-and-mortar, or kinda sorta pretended to go along with that, was that we’re too stingy and sleazy as a society to provide the time off or the subsidized tuition common in countries whose farmers are happy to spray liquefied cow manure on riot police. Now that it’s medically unsafe to congregate in school buildings, not just too expensive for the serfs by the reckoning of our worst Reaganite shitheads, we’re mumbling about how Zoom maybe works okay some of the time because it is what it is, and specifically it’s impossible.

Like hell is that worth $40k a year. We’re talking about some shit like $50 or $75 an hour for twenty-way teleconferences on a janky platform nobody had heard of at the start of this calendar year. This is under a model that already forces students to pay to do work outside class and get smeared on the permanent record if they do a poor job on it.

The fuck is this? Real estate in Palo Alto? If this is what we’re doing, I think I’ll pay for a full steak dinner with a loosely packed takeout bag full of deposit bottles. Rough multiplication is one kind of math I know, and we’re using a pretty generous multiple here.

Ah, yeah. That’s right: we’re the ones who pay, and they’re the ones who charge. Vinny No-Knees, he ain’t da one ain’t got da knees.

Strike up the Saturday Morning Big Band, Simon, for many of our esteemed schools are turbocharging this shakedown with #SPORTS! Why would it not be time? Their student athletes must be on campus for their studies, but their nonathletic scholars must not. Good God. Who are we accusing of going to class now?

It’s not a job; it’s amateurism. Okay, then. If they love it so much, why do they have to be told to show up? Since we don’t count me based on my obsessive internal prompts, nobody is barking at me to write this shit. Nobody is on my ass, like, generate content, pig. Why do the sports we so love, as players and as spectators, operate like shitty McDonald’s franchises? Three tardies and a no-call mean an immediate conversion to unemployment, and I hear that’s pretty generous in fast food today, but they keep saying college ball is NOT a profession.

What they mean is it’s unpaid. They hire and schedule their workers, but they don’t pay them. If fact, it’s against the rules for players to solicit or receive payments from third parties for their very profitable services. It’s a huge scandal when a coach sweetens the deal with cars or shoes or hookers. Turn the kids into half-assed Kato Kaelins and you’re a shyster; personally profit forever and ever and you’re a civic leader.

We’re adding exceptional health hazards to the missing hazard pay this year. This is what one does for the love of the game and the interest in retaining one’s scholarship.

That’s the only sanctioned compensation. The company pays these kids in scrip. Then the administration wonders why the athletes and their groupies won’t refrain from getting wasted and hollering all night at parties during a pandemic.

Gee, I’m just a fuckup from a no-cut high school cross country team, but did you think about not ordering them to return to campus? Maybe there’d be fewer teenaged doofuses running around and breathing on everyone in sight if there were fewer invitations.

Temporarily removing the profit motive would vigorously cut back the hooting and hollering and coughing. Everyone on campus and in town knows the problem bars. They could start just by shutting down the major vectors: sit-down dining, lecture halls, residential and food service operations for nonessential members of the campus community, and of course the fucking oaf bars.

No shit a lot of these kids will still find ways to party. Here’s the question: Will they move out of town to party with people they’ve never met who are also from out of town, or will they party back home with people they already know? It isn’t brain surgery to restructure incentives to minimize recreational travel. In this case, all the schools have to do is not order impulsive young people to gather in congregate settings. Don’t put out the fucking all-call for the youth hooliganism strange attractors. Just don’t fucking be the oaf who catalyzes that shit during a global respiratory pandemic.

There’s no truly banishing the profit motive from the athletic programs and the bars when the profit margins are so high, but governments can still come down with a well-placed jackboot on recalcitrant institutional actors or pay maintenance for the duration of the Sickness. The latter is objectionable since these outfits are always more solvent than they say. Geez, where the heck did my money go? Do I have an S Corp? All the same, it’s better than allowing them to act on excuses to stay open, such as “we needed the gross,” or the health department not physically clearing the premises and barring the door. The perfect is the enemy of the good. We can still do better than that, but we’d best not do much worse.

This whole ecosystem is a massive racket, of course. If a high-volume athletic program or student bar that’s been operating for anywhere from thirty years to a couple of centuries is reported to be facing bankruptcy if it shuts down for a year or two, that means the profits were misappropriated. It doesn’t say how or where, but it does say that the money went bye-bye from the statements of cash on hand. It’s usually to evade liability and enrich the principals.

I don’t want to inveigh against the realization of profits from a popular, successful business in sweeping moral terms, but some of these characters really need to shut up about times being tight, even if they are. Whoever owns the Gingerbread Man on the square in Carlisle is rich. I’m sorry, but those fuckers are loaded, and that’s a fact. If they can’t make it through 2021 still solvent, it’s either because they blew the money on stupid shit or are lying about their finances for sympathy and handouts.

It’s become commonplace again, as it was in the leadup to the Great Depression, to invest on margin. Again, this is not evidence that the market is tight and merciless in our competitive free enterprise system. Did the owners of the meatmarket blow half a mil on NASCAR memorabilia and a powerboat? Did the trustees use the football program as collateral to get a mortgage on the new dorm tower? These aren’t problems intrinsic to barkeeping or higher education. That’s like saying, shit, I can’t make ends meet on $200k, but what the hell do you mean it’s because I spend too much at the poker tables? I WORK HARD to go to Reno!

Americans love to bitch about shit like this. It would be moral hazard to increase food stamp benefits or make hot food to go eligible, but it’s right and proper to spend five or ten times as much per capita on people who used serious business income to lose money by being stupid and degenerate. This is why Bob Rotanz needs da gibs in these hard times, along with every four-year college in the land.

Our public health crisis is gonna get our schools rekt. The class actions will be lit. The administrators will whine, but sow lawyers today, reap lawsuits tomorrow. It’s a profit center one way or another.

God willing, the festivities will finally crash college sports. Ordering hundreds of yahoos back to campus for high-contact sports against public health advice as a matter of contractual right will make the schools involved look awful when they defend it in open court, and they will. The NCAA and its member schools have been making too much of a scene about their exclusive right to profit from the labor of their athletes not to assert their right to rescind scholarships for athletes who express health concerns about a pandemic constantly in the news.

The claims profitable programs make about their prerogatives to exploit their “student” athletes have always been preposterous. Adding the right to sicken or kill them for the ratings may be the overreach that makes the courts lose their shit. This may be the year they finally rule that the very corporate model at play is designed to violate every principle of contract and intellectual property law going back to the Magna Carta.

If that isn’t technically correct, it won’t be the first time the courts have made shit up. They had to do it to fail to invalidate the amateur model in these programs in the first place. Anybody holding that entertainers should have to relinquish the marketing rights to their own names and likenesses because they’re working for free is an ass.

Then again, it’s about what should be expected of institutions that assert the contractual right to furnish negative recommendations because the subjects are paying them to work. Do I sound like I’m about to reconsider this position because what I’m describing is a poor GPA? Fuck that. That’s my whole point. Since we don’t seem interested in establishing our employability by getting and holding gainful jobs, insisting instead on sheets of mumbo-jumbo about different letters and numbers arising from work the evaluators cannot remember and nobody retains, maybe we can streamline the bribery operation into a one-stop shop.

Shit, I guess that’s what got Rick Singer into trouble. Carry on, then. Surely this is an opportune year to spend a prior year’s earnings either getting sick unto death in a bougie barracks or chatting with new computer friends from home. This cannot possibly be anything but smart. This is your life. Inject it with intelligence, #BigBandStyle, until it bursts.

D mock crass, see

NPR’s initial coverage of the debut of Kamala Harris was loathesome. Hope springing intermittent, I’d been foolish enough to expect better, not good by any stretch but also not excruciatingly embarrassing. Oops. The breathless fawning over Harris’s great liberal vision, personal toughness, popularity, and trailblazing ethnic identity was beyond my tolerance, so I actually turned the state radio off a few times to spare myself, but I got a taste of it, good and hard.

NPR is the same network that aired an El Paso Walmart shooting survivor’s insight that “as a Latina, you sometimes argue with your mother.” Christ. Are they Jews now? The Harris debut is that, but lasting for days, and focused on one prominent psychopath’s bottomless virtue, warmth, and popularity. For the Harris festivities, they interviewed a lady who collaged her own Biden-Harris sign at home and an Indian doofus who gushed about Kamala for being one of his kind. My excruciating favorite was Robin Young’s softball to Amy Klobuchar about how she removed herself from consideration for the vice presidency because she felt passionately that the nomination should go to a woman of color. Klobuchar is an ice-cold weirdo who yells bloody murder at her staffers and throws projectiles at them, so I’m sure her dwelling place in an even uglier part of the uncanny valley than Harris had nothing to do with her decision, and surely there was no partisan corruption or intrigue at play for an elder stateswoman of her character.

Listening to that sneering freak enthuse about her fellow prosecutrix was like getting Dennis Rader’s thoughts on the upcoming sheriff’s election. “With Dahmer unfortunately departed, many have been asking me to run, but I’m as much of a kraut as that treacherous bastard Landwehr, and I’ve come to believe that the position demands a colored fellow. Say what you will about Joseph DeAngelo, but know this: He’s an Italian. Joe won’t just be a top cop. He’ll be a wop cop.”

This is exactly what the KHive and its allies are doing with their rewarmed idpol shit. They’re being just as crude as I am. The difference is that they’re pretending to be refined and intelligent, not disingenuous wokescolding partisan hacks.

I voted for Loretta Sanchez twice in 2018, but I guess she doesn’t fit NPR’s bill as a Congresswoman of Color. This may have something to do with her being genuinely liberal, not a deeply illiberal megalomaniac. The Wilson-Deukmejian Republican vote was going to go somewhere, and not all of it followed Mark Fuhrman up north onto the Whitey Rez. In 2018, it went to John Cox and Kamala Harris. Cox is a proud Republican who loves to yell about crazy shit. That talk radio energy falls flat in the burned-over district off Mark West. Harris is a grandstanding wackass herself, but she codes it to barely meet rich liberals’ standards for dinner party respectability.

Kamala is popular in many rich white neighborhoods. Is it because she’s black? Oh yeah sweet baby girl it is. Few dare admit it, probably even to themselves, but what they cherish in her is the cover she gives them for their most bigoted authoritarian impulses. They’re squeamish around brashly authoritarian Republican white boys like Pete Wilson noting that California traditionally cooks with gas but they’d consider switching to electric. It makes them feel bad to quietly agree that minority crime is a real problem having more than a bit to do with their settling in the hills.

Harris, then, is a real Brahmin score, a black yuppie who’s made it on the San Francisco social scene and talks a great game about shit like the importance of education and the professional gatekeepers of the nonprofit-industrial complex. She’s sassy, but not TOO sassy, and she QUIETLY locks up the young bucks. For disingenuous hypocrites whose currency is virtue-signaling, Kamala Harris isn’t a hardhearted prosecutor who spent much of her career disproportionately incarcerating black and brown constituents for a combination of extremely minor offenses like their children’s truancy from school and the state’s interest in maintaining a full complement of inmate firefighters; she’s their black friend.

These are affluent, sheltered people who get really irate and defensive when their politics are challenged, especially by those they presume their fellow travelers. One reserves one’s worst ire for the apostate, not the heathen. Why the fuck are Hillary Clinton and Kamala Harris feminism, but not Jill Stein and Loretta Sanchez? Have they ever even tried feminism? Katie Hill has. The common denominator of what it means to be With Her is center-left yuppies shrieking about the absolute need to support some of the most vicious, illiberal, corrupt candidates the Democratic Party coughs up for high office. We need to defeat the bad orange man, they scream.

Okay. Find me a challenger who isn’t atrocious. The handsy hairsniffing funny uncle behind the crime bill and the student debt crisis has now chosen as his runningmate a crazed prosecutor who argued in court to keep the slaves in their camps to fight fires on the cheap. Biden and Harris are literally slavers. Kamala prefers direct slavedriving, while Uncle Joe demands to Shanghai the poor into debt servitude as an adjunct to the slave camps.

These are just two terrible parts of their records. Knowing what I know just about American prisons, I cannot for one second believe that Donald Trump is the absolute standard of evil and danger in American politics. He’s running against two challengers with longstanding records of doing their damnedest to lock Americans up. Even his own ghoulish, Strangelovian Attorney General, Bill Barr, has directed the early release of federal prisoners in the interest of public health.

It’s telling, though, that so few #Resistance loudmouths have seized on Barr as an exceptional threat to our constitutional order and our civil liberties, instead continuing to focus on Trump as an utterly and uniquely bad leader. What they’re doing is pretty straightforward: they’re scapegoating the Oaf of Office for being a messy bitch. Barr cleans up well, just like every other depravity from the movement conservative hard right. They speak in public like white shoe lawyers. Trump speaks like exactly the celebrity drama queen he loves to be.

Hence the endless bellyaching about who on earth let HIM in here. Hence the squeamish whining about his activation of the white working class, a constituency that never would have come close to electing him without Trump’s much larger base of Optimate business success guys and right-wing professionals. Trump is an MBA leading a base heavy on dentists, car dealers, industrialists, and major landowners. He’s still widely presented as a washed-up carnival barker leading a rabble of out-of-work coal miners. The assumption is that they’re all uneducated, ignorant, and stupid: never mind the keen working intelligence needed to make it through the day in a shaft mine or a steel mill, of course.

In other words, Trump is unqualified to lead, and his voters are unqualified to vote. This is facially bogus under the US Constitution, of course, but the West Wing nerds don’t care about any of that shit when it conflicts with their prejudices. We need more and better political education, they moan. And where the hell do we go for that? MSNBC? That shit’s Wesley Willis psychotic, with none of the insight and humility. There are a lot of really disturbed people who would gladly admit that they must have been off their meds when they caught Vladimir Putin’s cube farm elves rewiring their brains over the computer. Shit, Aftab, you aren’t gonna believe it, and indeed he won’t. Maybe florid conspiracy theories about Kremlin mind control that ignore the overwhelming evidence of the losers’ political ineptitude should be taken on advisement.

Mind you, I’m just an overqualified loser myself, and I don’t even have the political sinecure to show for it. All I’ve gotten are interrogations about whether I’m wallowing in the samizdat. Nice try, officer. This party that demands my vote in exchange for more or less jack shit has taken an official stand about foreign election interference that is clinically paranoid and also extremely fucking whiny.

That’s just the aesthetic obnoxiousness of it. Substantively, it’s evasive, not just in how it deflects blame for self-inflicted fuckups but in how it projects every seedy and crooked thing about US politics onto foreign scapegoats. Our presidential campaigns are awash in manipulative ads costing over a billion dollars a cycle in recent years, but the problem is Grandmother’s special internet friend, a Russian pretending to be an American. We’re explicitly lectured to heed warnings from the “intelligence community.” Excuse me, but that lame-ass name is about as old as the Trump Administration, and those motherfuckers lie. There’s no warranty that any particular classified briefing our elected officials claim they can’t disclose to us isn’t a crock of shit. In point of fact they’re immunized against prosecution for reading classifed information into the Congressional Record, but solemnly intoning about their secret knowledge is mainly another way to lord it over the rest of us.

It’s unconscionable to be expected to treat any of this nonsense as prudence, not insanity. They work for us, not vice versa. We have a compelling interest in their honest services and every reason to demand it. This easily includes the disclosure of bad acts that have been given cover of classification. They actually have the nerve to lecture us about how we need to believe them that they have our best interests at heart when they’re obvious crooks and they refuse to offer us a full accounting of what they’ve heard from the spook nests.

Again, they fucking work for us, not for Langley. A den of liars who keep promising to tell the truth told them a bunch of shit that we’re now expected to take on faith even though we’re unworthy of the details. They want to know what we’re reading to give ourselves such outlandishly conspiratorial ideas, but they don’t trust us with full information about what they’re reading.

Yeah, here’s a point of order, punk: go fuck yourself.

These same ghouls won’t shut up about how much they’re doing for ordinary Americans. “Working families” seems to be the popular term of art, probably because the country has fewer residents than usual either working for a living or living in families. They do all this shit for “us.” For the Democrats, much of it is not being Donald Trump, as they loudly point out. In other words, they beat us up less than our ex did. They buy us flowers afterwards.

Who the hell is us? It’s obviously bougie trash who are too squeamish and self-esteeming to Bradley Effect John Cox into the Senate to protect their property values. That ain’t me, chief.

This is not an incidental, negotiable point. My circumstances and interests have dramatically diverged from those of my parents and their peers, and I fucking expect our elected officials to do something about it. That’s the whole fucking point of politics. It’s precisely and exclusively the raison d’etre of representative democracy: we vote and they act on our demands.

The yuppies, young and old, who vote for dungeon crawlers like Kamala Harris and Eric Garcetti fully understand this. They vote against Bernie Sanders because they fear, correctly, what he’ll do to their privilege in the broad public interest. Their prerogatives as gatekeeper and rentiers will become unenforceable. They’ll have to do something honest for a living or just live on their properties, not exploit them for financial gain at their neighbors’ expense. Their portfolios may lose value.

Personally, I’m sympathetic to their fears of socioeconomic decline and retaliation, having caught a fair bit of it myself. This is why we so desperately need to equalize our society, to level up the worst-off and ensure that none among us ever again crashes into their degraded circumstances.

What I find absolutely unsympathetic is their insistence on speaking on behalf of the entire left-leaning swathes of the poor and the downwardly mobile. Nobody has my blessing to speak over me on my behalf. That’s when I talk over them until they shut the fuck up. Biden, Harris, and their ilk have done significant articulable damage to my prospects and circumstances, and I do not forgive them. They need to whole-ass 180 their ship to have a chance in hell of winning my grace. They didn’t incidentally or accidentally flood the zone with bad, ill-disciplined cops, cater to the worst banks, or structure the disbursement of public funds in ways maximizing the employment of obedient failchildren in gatekeeping positions at the expense of beneficiaries who need the fucking help.

Anything I have to do with Biden or Harris is going to be 100% transactional. They need to shut up and serve me. Again, this is the point of politics: voters don’t turn out, let alone campaign, for candidates they don’t expect to effectively and consistently serve them. If that’s Donald Trump and not Joe Biden, what the fuck else am I supposed to say? This is the point at which a shrieking chorus of property owners who have lived for decades in segregated neighborhoods angrily call me a racist, but Fat Cracka ain’t here cause he cares about any of that.

This same affluent, notionally liberal constituency proudly proclaims that it cherishes an engaged, passionate citizenry. Then that passion and engagement works in Donald Trump’s favor, even a touch, and they flip their damn shit about how the only people who even think about voting for him are idiots, ignoramuses, and bigots. Maybe check out the records of his opposition if you’d care to revise your statements; hell if I know. I could drive to the watering tub just over the hill on 29, or I could get screamed at for the better part of an hour a block off Silverado. It probably depends on how much company I need.

Joey and Kammy–those two are in no position to tell me how they are to be addressed–are thrust before us as the indispensable bulwarks of relative good against the absolute evil of Donald of Orange. It’s a cool story for those of us who are familiar with precedents for much worse evil in American politics: you know, Preston Brooks, Woodrow Wilson, George W. Bush, George H. W. Bush, the rest of the CIA. We had an NGO gig in Indonesia under the Ford Foundation, yeah? We tortured some folks, yeah? We’re just trying to deal with our old grievances against past administrations more aloha here. *Juicily disturbed Guy Hagi voice* See you out in the Pacific!

Now, white Punahou alumni aren’t supposed to pass da kine of da local parlance into themselves, and Mocha Haole is half white. In fact, he’s wholly White. What I’m writing about our first half-white president is a spicy poke bowl. Any worse and I’d be in public office myself. In fairness, he’s pretty competent at politics, apparently convicing a plurality of Americans that he’s a black guy from Chicago and half-assedly reforming the health insurance system to spottily restore coverage to young people whose affluent parents raised them to vote.

Don’t let anybody tell you the politics of division don’t work. They work great for messy bitches from Queens, too. Many wonder about our Thicc Moist Boi’s acumen for responding to a combined public health and economic crisis by Posting Through It, but he’s in show business, same as ever, and he’ll continue to grift his goobers whether he stays or goes. So will the Democrats. Does any of this look like it’s NOT a business?

The coming politics of unity this November and the four years starting the following January is another piece of fantasy fiction. It’s Harry Potter, but with gravity, as Shoko Asahara is said to have ultimately experienced. We obviously spend too much time reading about Bartlets and wizards and construing them as political models. If I published Keebler Elf fan fiction recapitulating the beleaguered yeoman virtue of the early modern English farmer, I doubt I could justify the cultural disgrace with the royalties, not in a land whose public television network is always airing bitch-ass Downton Abbey. Nah, let’s be real: I’m not too self-respecting to refrain, just too disorganized.

Who the fuck are we gonna unify this fall? Americans who earnestly regard that stupid manor soap as reputable, harmless entertainment with those of us who correctly identify it as lame, low-key seditious trash about a castle full of the most miserable cunts? Affluent, secure property owners with precarious to flat-ruined renters? Is there a place for the homeless in this coalition? I don’t mean as an agenda item for do-gooders to handle; I mean actually fucking listening to the homeless, as Democratic politicians do to any shitlib homeowner with property values to defend. I can tell I’m on the wrong side of that transaction for having personal experience, as far as they’re concerned.

On that gross topic, I’m not here to accept ANY blame from them for having become or remained homeless. They’re always free to start blaming their own propertied base for making homelessness such a huge problem by being pushy about zoning and chasing cheap deals that screw over workers. Besides, you don’t win voters over in politics by blaming them. Donald Trump knows this. The Democratic establishment is so accustomed to abusing the lower strata of its own target base that it doesn’t care. We’re obviously on the shitlib do-gooders’ side. What upsets them is when they talk over us and we have the insolence to talk back. They’re highly qualified, you see.

Yeah, it’s passionate political engagement, bitch, and political ignorance it is not. I’ve closely followed Bill De Blasio, Lori Lightfoot, Jacob Frey, Jenny Durkan, Ted Wheeler, and Eric Garcetti over the summer. Blue no matter who is going great!

Lose me with the cult shit. That’s like pointing out that George Pell is Roman Catholic. It’s meant as a disingenuous appeal to tribal affiliation but works out as a grand object lesson in derelicts and moral horrors who should immediately be banished from any party claiming the mantle of the left. I don’t need a reason to stay Catholic, incidentally because nobody is all up in my face to demand my fealty to bad clergy. On the other hand, I’m not a Democrat. Yes, I’m registered as one, but all that means is that I’ve told the registrar of elections to let me vote in Democratic primaries. I am not a member of that outfit and have never been. Do I sound that stupid? Go bother your own people.

If the Democrats want me on board, or millions of other Americans who are angry about the way both parties have been running the country, they can run on a platform that isn’t dogshit and be credible about it. For starters, they can promise to provide for public medical and dental coverage on demand and free at the point of service, a medical debt jubilee, a student debt jubilee, the imposition of strict oversight and discipline on the police, an end to qualified immunity, an end to civil asset forfeiture absent a conviction or verdict of liability, the prosecution of bad cops and prosecutors, the systematic release of prisoners who do not pose an articulable and credible threat to public safety or welfare, the systematic overhaul of the entire criminal justice system, postal banking, a crackdown on residential evictions and foreclosures, a major buildout of high-quality public housing, the close regulation of credit reporting agencies, strict limits on the use of credit scores, an end to drug tests (with narrow exemptions for truly high-risk positions, if need be), and a monetary and fiscal policy reestablishing a goal of full employment. It’s straightforward: we demand to be treated like fellow people and fellow citizens, to have our general welfare safeguarded in the same fashion as the most affluent, and to regain the liberty to tell bad actors in positions of authority to fuck off witout suffering consequences for prosocial assertions of our rights.

What would the Democratic Party say to this? We already know. Oh, be reasonable. That’s unrealistic. You’re asking for too much. We need to appeal to moderate swing voters in the suburbs. (Cool, property owners again). Be patient and wait your turn. Go back to school. Learn to code. The loser can have a little means-tested tax break, as a treat.

If this shitty party insists on catering to the shittiest elements of the upper middle class, there’s nothing the openly poor, downwardy mobile, or precarious can do to directly force it to actually be the big tent it brags about being. They’ve rigged their own presidential primaries twice in a row to ratfuck their most popular candidate, done their best to marginalize him as he’s tried to engage and influence their platform, and surrounded themselves with a forcefield of prissy bougies who feel beleaguered for having home equity but not the prerogative to summarily silence insolent peasants.

Here’s where it gets abusive again. What happens if we defect? What happens if we tell them to go fuck themselves? Oh no, you can’t do that! You can’t vote Republican! You can’t vote Green or Libertarian! How can you say ANYTHING good about Trump? Blue no matter who! We need to stop him! We need to stop Putin!

What the hell Putin has to do with any of that, including Donald Trump, is pretty tenuous. In any event, it would be more reputable to examine our own interference as a nation in other nations’ elections.

It’s worth noticing that all they ever tell left-wing dissidents in their own defense is that they’re better than the Republicans. They’ve now reached the disgraceful point at which George W. Bush is better than the Republican Party, certainly better than Big Orange. They can take that take straight to hell, no $200 on the way past Go. A survey of what they actually represent and accomplish shows that they’re too busy for the little people because they’re occupied in a spirit of great devotion with the psychic and material maintenance of their real base: affluent Brahmin conformists. They’re siding with a prickly, defensive constituency articulably adverse to me as socioeconomic and cultural actors. They’re representing voters whose politics have already done me significant harm and have killed many.

Guys. Ya gotta do better.

Not to brag, I was right about Trump being too outrageous and provocative not to stir up opposition to agendas he shared with centrist Democrats. They crafted the Crime Bill and continue to quietly delegate police violence to local agencies; he had federal goons gas and beat protesters out from the curtilage of a church for an absurdist photo op with a bible, had goons go on rampages in Portland that helpfully distracted the public from Ted Wheeler’s failure to control the PPB, and fumed at length about his plan to deploy feds to Chicago, distracting from another Democratic city government’s deployment of out-of-control municipal police. They allowed the GOP to ratfuck the Post Office with pension prepayment obligations, left these obligations in place through two years of unified Democratic government, and publicly mulled privatizing the Post Office; he appointed a blatantly corrupt crony Postmaster General to remove mailboxes and sorting equipment a bit over a month before an expected huge surge in electoral mail.

Trump is such an incorrigibly messy bitch, he forces the Democrats to do their job and stand up to him. They can’t West Wing it and throw all the usual little people into the buzzsaw; he makes the whole gig too blatant, forcing them to act on their avowed principles. A good reason to fear Biden and Harris is that they’ll revert Washington to the usual bipartisan civility gobbledygook, giving themselves and Congress the cover to workshop more privatization schemes. I say workshop because nobody has yet been able to get the full privatization of Social Security or the USPS into law on account of the blowback. Even so, we’ll have to stay on guard, even more than we do with a raging oaf appointing a sleazy doofus who owns lots of FedEx and UPS stock to unabashedly trash the Post Office. That’s reason enough to distrust and resent the Democratic ticket.

Shit. Maybe Biden and Harris are having Trump kayfabe them into a position that will force them to beef up the USPS. This shit can be baffling. Chuck the Schmuck and the Donald get along fabulously behind closed doors and open curtains, a heartwarming bipartisan friendship between two greazy bridge-and-tunnel sleazeballs. I doubt Obama minded being smeared as a Sharia Mau-Mau when he’d already spent so much of his life establishing himself as a member of the Chicago Community. Or, as his Vice President Emeritus would say, you’re articulate, but you ain’t black!

I doubt Kamala minds the tokenization, either. It’s powered much of her career. In fact, I’d be surprised if the campaign isn’t directing the fawning idpol coverage of her debut. They must expect it to appeal to Millennial Voters of Color. Every Thirty Seconds a young Latin becomes eligible to teach Antonio Villaraigosa Spanish. Personally, I’d start with English. At least they’ve still got that colored fellow Garcetti as mayor, although word on the streets in the Gateway Cities has always been that Paul Tanaka is white.

These are the things that matter when the police are committing an armed insurrection against the citizenry. With Kamala, it’s an overachieving Indian-Jamaican state beatdown. It’s a refusal of color to reexamine the conviction of that Persian son of a bitch who definitely shot RFK without any help.

The party line is that Harris will help win over the minority youth vote. Okay, but why is she so hated and distrusted in young minority neighborhoods and so popular with shriveled-up old honky motherfuckers? Look. I’m just trying out racial essentialism; I learned it on NPR.

Duh. She’s got Whitey’s back. It’s the same answer as before. NPR is dressing her up for the fancy crackers. This is why we hear about how the Indians love her because, like the Oaf of Office, they love the Hindu. It’s why we hear about how the Jamaicans love her because she’s an overachieving Jamaican from an overachieving Jamaican family. Say, could you shut the fuck up about your above-average children? We grow enough of that shit at home not to have to import it.

Of course not. It’s NPR.

For all the identitarian shit and wonkery, Totebag Nation has no grasp of how the racial framing of Kamala Harris plays with young voters. It keeps hitting me that thirty-year-olds today have spent their entire adult lives under either a two-term black president or his immediate successor, who barely beat a woman in the general election. There are no assurances that young voters see anything trailblazing about Harris, while it’s well established that many of them are unhappy with her record. Most of them, if they vote, will still vote for her, but mainly because they’re horrified by Trump, or just sick of him. The suspicion that she’s a phony, a sellout, and a ghoul won’t be put to rest with fawning coverage on NPR. They’ll sour on Harris and Biden in a hurry if they don’t deliver the goods in ways that repudiate their own longstanding records. They’re already off on a bad foot for being a cop and a rapist in a time when both roles are under great fire.

Can you believe it, DeAngelo? They can’t even maneuver a hand truck through a supermarket warehouse!

Did you know that Kwesi Millington is an Afro-Canadian? Did you know that Monty Robinson is an Indian drunkard? If you’ve been around here long, I’m afraid you do. I shouldn’t polerize our politics, so of coarse I do exactly that.

I don’t know why I just thot of that, but they don’t seem to be sending us their best.

Friendship Ended With Electoral Democracy; Now Direct Action Is My Best Friend

Chuck Schumer and Donald Trump get along fabulously behind closed doors. There are photographs. Trump is said to get along well with Rod Rosenstein. Fancy Nancy and Addison the Bitch get along well, an odd thing for anyone to do with that turtle-ass motherfucker when his whole caucus is reportedly fed up with him.

It’s all just for show: the epic clapback, the speech-tearing, the Kente Cloth Kneeling Ceremony, the acrimonious deadlocks over arbitrary spending limits on emergency social welfare payments in this, our Time of Illness, the impeachment. It’s a game for them. For most of them, the game is politics. For the Donald, the game is show business. The establishment ghouls are there for the usual West Wing horseshit about civility and wonkery and similar barfables. The Oaf of Office is there to be a messy bitch from Queens who lives for drama. His idea of a professionallhy aggrandizing time involves a lot of yelling in public, not just in private. A handful of true believers are in Town for public service (Bernie Sanders), ideological aggression (Stephen Miller), or both (Steve Bannon, maybe). It’s real strange, but there are reasons to believe that genocidal eugenicist creeps like Lord Hairspray are some of the LEAST cynical Beltway critters.

What the rest believe in is straightforward: their own wealth and power. They’re there to enrich and entrench themselves, their cronies, their families, their prep school classmates, and a few high strata of comparable worthies. Everybody else can go die in a ditch. The election was held in March, over the course of a few days bracketing Super Tuesday, when Mocha Haole cleared the field for his trusty old hairsniffing lieutenant, passing da rest o da kine outta da way, yeah? Between that aw-shucks wave of dropouts, the bought and paid-for endorsements, and the electoral fraud in various Democratic caucuses and primaries, the party did what it needed to do: it ratfucked Bernie again. The big show we’ve got coming up in November is as civicically meaningful as the Super Bowl. Are the ads any better? Your taste is as bad as mine. (You’re here, after all!) All We’re doing over the fall is determining, with excruciating melodrama and at licentious expense, which style of bigoted authoritarian police state shyster gerontocrat we want yelling at whom and how.

The Outer Party is still having a shit fit about the Bad Orange Man, of course. They’re doing this because the Inner Party has been grifting them with moral panics about Russia and threats to our democracy in the same way it’s been grifting the openly fascistic and the religiously preoccupied with moral panics about secular communists. Biden is against God. He’s here to hurt the Bible, to hurt God. We all hurt God at Gethsemane, in the present and the past, a paradox I prefer to leave to theologians, theoretical physicists, Leon Bridges, and whoever. *Most Visitation of Robert Oppenheimer Voice* Long time since we’ve had nukes around here, right? How ya like em?

The Inner Party doesn’t give a damn about this shit. Fancy Nancy reading from Ecclesiastes is every bit as performative as our Thicc Moist Boi walking out into the smoke and holding up A Bible. Pat Robertson reserved the Pig Hebrew for the boob tube and the latest copy of the Financial Times for the Operation Blessing flight to the blood diamond districts of the Congo. Ish kabish kawaka waka hey hey shalom it is mitzvah unto the rain please bless.

The NYT, one of the great CI-Adjacent papers of record, made a killing peddling tenuous, baroque campfire stories about Donald Trump, Traitor, to hysterical shitlibs. Some speculate that Trump, a very likely money launderer for the Russian mob, is also a CIA and FBI asset. In that case, he has to be secretly but heartily in favor of the Russia smears. Who would ever think to look for US secret police and intelligence assets among Kremlin assets? But think about it. Who looks more enthusiastic to recruit and retain that boor as an A-List asset: Vladimir Putin, or the WASP dumbasses at Langley?

It’s not exactly that nothing will change after Biden takes office. The federal penal regime may get marginally worse, depending on what the hell Bill Barr does. It won’t get better; Biden has never believed in mercy as a component of justice and he still doesn’t. He’s still a bigot who relishes locking up black people. The differences between him and Trump are minor and narrow, dwarfed by the overlap.

This is why I keep responding to Blue No Matter Who deadenders when they sputter about Trump’s singular awfulness. Gee, maybe what Biden has been DOING for practically half a century straight is predictive of what he will do as our next president. As a struggling, inept empire that won’t maintain basic government services at home, we’re about to inaugurate our seventh successive stone-cold pandering sadist as our president. Like hell we had politics of unity and decency for decades and then suddenly this oaf showed up from the TV and ruined it all by mouthing off a lot. Should we be surprised to watch this character claim his office in P. J. O’Rourke’s Television branch of government?

If he picks Kamala Harris as his running mate, as his campaign has inadvertently leaked through its predictable ineptitude, I’ll be honored to vote against her a third time. Trump actually balanced his ticket with Mike Pence, a smarmy Hoosier religious busybody to his own libertine New York drama queen. Kamala has Joe’s carceral politics on steroids with an extra creep factor, but as Joe would say, geez, Jack, why don’tcha meet me outside, she’s a colored broad!

That’s what we’re calling diversity. It’s disgraceful. Melissa Ann Shepard looks like she wouldn’t try to kill me unless I married her. Few of our federal elected officials care if we live or die. Half a million or a million constituent deaths are nothing but numbers on a spreadsheet to them. Sometimes they do good things for other numbers on different parts of the spreadsheet. When that happens, they approve. The opioids are just killing backwards white working-class bigots, after all, Trump’s base. Neither of these things are true, but the big tent of liberalism has an embarrassingly large amount of room for Harry Potter freaks.

All kinds of vile bigotry are perfectly acceptable as long as they’re politely couched. Establishment Democrats have the extra nerve to demand that the targets of their bigotry vote for them because the opposition, if we can believe them, is even worse. They despise the downwardly mobile college-educated losers they did their best to create, but we went to college, and college boys and girls vote Democratic.

Huh? First of all, where the fuck did they get that idea? Ah, they mean we were raised Brahmin. Okay, fuck you too, then. The liberal arts give us the liberty to make up our own minds, remember? Some of us make up our minds differently from others and get tearfully screamed at about it for close to an hour off Silverado Trail.

I have to go a step further here, though. You do NOT lecture anyone AT ALL for not having the skills or the education to get a job and then demand my vote. That’s all there fucking is to it. I expect politicians not to publicly disrespect constituents for having difficulty in the job market. I do not dispense absolution for shitting on me and tens of millions of other Americans, many of them much more decent and worth having around than our political class, for coming to grief in a job market that the same nasty politicians calculatingly trashed.

As I’ve said before, Trump at least has the principle not to demand the votes of people whose right to a livelihood he contemptuously dismisses in his own public comments. The Democratic establishment can’t help itself. We owe them our fealty. We’re them. They’re us. How dare we say otherwise.

This is a strategic conflation on the part of the Inner Party. The Outer Party’s critical thinking is so shot that I can’t tell what the hell its thoughts are on this insane nostrism. Nancy Pelosi has jack shit in common with someone who ended up homeless due to dangerous living situations like me or to anyone with student debt. One would hope to hear her supporters recognize this. Oh, yeah, you’re practically ruined and she’s richer than God. This is some basic shit. On the other hand, the shitlib base is full of old real estate owners who don’t want to admit that they benefited from Prop 13 in ways their children and grandchildren never will.

It should be mortifying to project one’s own success under the current neoliberal regime onto people it has obviously, grievously failed, but the narrowly broad center of American politics is full of disingenuous self-dealers high on their own supply. For movement conservatives, it’s mostly happy horseshit about job creators and government debt. For shitlibs, it’s mostly shit about education and skills. The twain happily converge. None of this crap is in any way necessary to the proper function or viability of a society. That’s why they agree on so much of it.

Trump is refreshingly honest for activating the most defiantly base elements of the right wing. The hard right is into some pretty crass shit. It’s huge, as she said, on sales scams like mail-order dick pills, gold certificates, and car dealerships. They’re shitheads, but they’re obvious shitheads. Only the greedy would try to join their league.

The really slippery shit is in the respectable center. That’s where we find beliefs that are just plausible and respectable enough not to reject out of hand on first sight like the latest Stan Merrill pitch. That’s who tells us most earnestly that education is the path to success, that critical thinking is cherished above rubies in the job market, that the forty-hour salary plus benefits model is the foundation of upward mobility and the middle class, that deadenders working horrible minimum-wage jobs will someday, somehow, but not right now catch the same train to prosperity.

Honestly, I’d rather have some hustler barking about dong hardeners on news-talk radio. The less normal that shit sounds, the safer it is for all of us. We want everyone involved with corrosive ideas to sound like a deranged, sleazy freak, not a respectable normie. We do not want to be bored or smoothtalked into lowering our defenses.

This is what’s so dangerous about Barack Obama. Mocha Haole, he smooth. It’s the same thing with Peter the Booty Judge. They use a dangerous style to conceal an ugly substance. They’ve both gotten people immiserated and killed, and they don’t care. They both dispossessed large numbers of African-Americans of their houses, deliberately. Obama fucked up healthcare reform. He’s responsible for our dystopian postmodern parlance of “open enrollment” and “marketplace navigators.” He could have set up a simple, easily navigable system. Instead he chose to set up a heavily siloed kludge and a jobs program for servile white-collar dimwits who stayed in school too long.

Bad policy has bad consequences. Americans fall through the cracks because the ACA is designed to allow us to fall through the cracks. Why the fuck would I call Covered California to “report a change?” The fuck will they do for me with the information? The fuck will they do for anyone? The horny-for-rules nerds who pushed that shit would have come up with something less intrusive and useless if they and their college buddies regularly had changes to report, but the gig economy is for other people, you see.

It rules that Democrats think they can win over the downwardly mobile voters they’ve ruined with more artificial complexity, artificial scarcity, and artificial pain. That shit is not okay. It just isn’t. I’m not taking questions about it. Donald Trump is able to outflank the Democratic establishment on the left because he’s content to beef with other celebrities. He doesn’t need wonk policy clout for his bunghole. He probably won’t tack meaningfully left at this point because he’s so tight with Bill Barr and other heinous police state ghouls. It’ll cost him the election, but we’d be fools to assume he’d have a problem with President Biden just because he says he would. They’re both out to hurt God. They’re certainly both out to hurt God’s people.

The dignity of work

Nobody who opines about the dignity of work works for a living. Ben’s Ass–goodness, how do I keep misspelling the name of the Member from Nebraska–draws a $174,000 federal salary for doing and saying whatever the hell he wants. His driving for Uber on trips back home is dilettante misdirection. The germane thing about that gig is that his generously salaried federal job affords him the time and energy to 1) drive for Uber and 2) jawbone us about how he drives for Uber. He ought to be grateful that anyone in this country shows up in earnest to do the work needed to keep anything running when he keeps drawing a public salary to lecture us about how he knows work to be soulcraft because he enjoys dabbling in it from time to time.

This is of course the same horseshit we’re fed by practically the entire Republican Party. None of those motherfuckers works for a living. More than a few of them are at first glance utterly unemployable. I stand by my assertion that they’re a good example of why we need public assistance: to remove them from our labor market and officially designate them, by means of their consignment to the welfare rolls, as the useless losers they are. If Paul Ryan draws public assistance and a prole he’s lecturing supplements his public assistance with the wages of a 7-Eleven clerkship, the signal transmitted to the rest of us is that the 7-Eleven cashier is employable and productive, while the esteemed Catfood Commissioner is neither.

UBI is a valid mechanism. Needs-based benefits are a worthy adjunct in this case, the need being insufficient character to pursue or maintain an honest occupation, but UBI would still help. We already pay these assholes to lecture us. We might as well just pay them on the basis that they’re useless bullshitters who should be encouraged to retreat from public life for their own dignity, if not for ours.

Again, if any of these homilists–smug, hostile, smarmy, or whatever else they are–sincerely believed in the dignity of work, they’d stop preaching to us about it and go find some for themselves. Rand Paul’s retreat from ophthalmology indicates that he prefers grandstanding about values to the practice of medicine. So does Bill Frist’s position in HCA. The good surgeon could just practice surgery and make do on a surgeon’s salary. He prefers to make do on an executive’s salary.

Better yet, to his way of thinking, was to draw a federal salary to grift on the tragedy of an unfortunate braindead woman and her unfortunate family, playing a video of her barely moving her eyes to pronounce her conscious and demand that she be kept on life support. If Frist practiced medicine, as opposed to Here’s Where You Cut, his grandstanding in the Terry Schiavo case would make me hesitant to engage his care. The poor wretch didn’t need a religious busybody abusing his qualifications as a cardiac surgeon to intrude into her case; she was already under the care of a team of exceptionally seasoned boarded neurologists.

Frist, like his fellow travelers, is all about hard work. But good God, who calls that work? Jawboning about one’s hopelessly idealistic opinion that a braindead woman entirely reliant on advanced life support equipment was conscious and had a quality of life worth extending was nowhere close to work. He could have spent that time and energy practicing surgery. He chose to spend it promoting the Quixotic claim that a terminally ill woman on life support was viable because it was a useful wedge to rile up pro-life extremists and, surely, to milk their savings and credit for movement slush.

The permissive lavishness of Congressional compensation packages never gets enough scrutiny. Members of Congress enjoy either two-year contracts paying out $348,000 plus benefits or six-year contracts paying out $1,044.000 plus benefits. These contracts are guaranteed unless they go full Traficant while in office, i.e., do something not only sleazy and crooked but egregiously, crassly so.

For every calendar day they spend in office, they draw gross salaries of $476.38, rounded down. That’s their per diem pay for every single day of their terms: weekends, recesses, everything. That isn’t what they call their per diem, though. What they call the per diem is the extra standard reimbursement they are allowed to claim each day they are in Washington or on the road on official business. On top of that, they’re allowed to claim expenses in excess of the per diem for official business.

If I go out for dim sum, I pay out of pocket. Congressmen (and women!) routinely go out for group meals costing more than my usual quart of hot and sour soup and three-piece hom su gok, and they bill Congress for full reimbursement. This assumes that they’re even footing the bill and passing the buck at the first opportunity. Lobbyists are always much obliged to do them the honor.

The salary, benefits, and daily allowances are merely the secondary salary for the average member. The primary salary is insider trading and bribes. We recently saw at least a sampling of those United States Senators who are antisocial enough to trade on classified information about a looming public health crisis. One of these, Kelley Loeffler, was already worth over half a billion dollars. Another, Dianne Feinstein, had been in Congress for about half her life and on the San Francisco Board of Supervisors before that. Coach, a simple country teacher from the Heartland who enjoyed simple heterosexual pastimes like youth wrestling, enriched himself by getting freeway interchanges placed next to land he happened to own. Denny showed up early for that transaction, to be sure.

None of this is an ordinary way of life. Nothing about it overlaps with how the median, mean, or modal American lives day to day or year to year. It’s a different, alien world.

Know this: None of these thieves does jack fucking shit for $9.50 or $7.25 or $2.13 an hour. Please. They aren’t about to waste their time and energy on a chump’s game. A few of them, at least, recognize their good fortune and use their power mostly for good, for what good it will do. They’re mostly inept against their colleagues. The senior leadership is a collection of white collar crooks and mob associates.

It takes some fucking chutzpah for a miserable, dyspeptic turtle-looking son of a bitch Triad asset like Mitch McConnell to complain that ordinary Americans are being incented by lavish government benefits not to work. All he’s trying to do is to shame and coerce his powerless constituents into submitting to indentured servitude for an indefinite period. He demands meek servants. He demands servility.

That’s all. There’s no high principle behind any of this shit. His only goals in life are to hoard wealth and power and subjugate those who don’t have enough to defy him. This is not a partisan thing, though. Fancy Nancy is basically the same evil thing. DiFi isn’t much better. Kamala Harris, apparently our next Vice President, is a wantonly cruel moral busybody and maniac. It’s the same thing in statehouses and city halls. They play the same game in the farm leagues.

Again, if they wanted to work for a living they could work for a damn living. They could at least try. It would build character. They say so themselves!

It’s obviously happy horseshit. They’re soft, coddled, and privileged. Few of them show a glimmer of gratitude for any of it. They’re insatiably greedy and power-hungry.

They project their own sins onto their constituents. If the government hands out checks, the proles will sit around collecting government checks. Yeah? And? Would Applebee’s go shortstaffed? I’m just an overqualified, underemployed shitposter who responds coherently to shrieking Health Boomers about how I don’t regret voting for Jill Stein and not filling Hillary’s bunghole with a superfluous popular vote in California, but that sounds to me like a failure of a vigorous free market to assign a price commensurate to the value of the labor it demands. Is the government offering workers a better deal? That’s competition, baby.

We can confirm that they don’t believe a word of this shit about lean government because they’re always demanding handouts from the same beast they claim to want starved. It’s just another sermon for the coerced faithful. If they allow their government to pay ordinary citizens enough to drop out of the job market until wages and conditions improve, they won’t be able to abuse their inferiors for sport and profit. They’re telling on themselves when they whine that nobody will show up to work for them if the government pays them enough to stay safe and sound. Gee, if nobody can stand to work there, maybe it’s a bad place to work.

Notice that this is a problem peculiar to poorly-paid jobs. You’ll get hired to harvest wild pine cones when somebody falls out of the tree. We don’t see doctors, lawyers, nurses, engineers, and other well-paid licensed professionals doing a whole lot of sitting around on the welfare dime. We don’t see overschooled dimwits with bullshit jobs they got by reciting the right platitudes to the right people, usually greased by knowing the right people, doing that, either. It’s still welfare, but they call it work.

Call me cynical, but these look like market incentives. Shitty pay working in shitty conditions under a shitty manager sounds like a set of disincentives. Would it not be moral hazard for the government to step in and ensure that workers are forced to ignore disincentives?

It’s always exquisite to listen to “conservatives” who “understand” human nature insist that they have exactly the recipe for a utopian land without government. Bull fucking shit. What we actually get is Somalia or Pitcairn Island. It’s warlords or Funny Stepfather; take your pick. Driving good people out of a functioning government means inviting bad people into the vacuum to run a bad, dysfunctional government. Mind you, libertarians rarely mind a jurisdiction with no age of consent; it’s one less local rule to commit to memory.

None of the bellyaching about disincentives to work has a thing to do with keeping society fed, housed, clothed, or sheltered. They’d hire fewer American prison firefighters and Cambodian garment slaves if they valued that shit. Rather, it’s about the fear of not having servants to boss around. Pay grades for actual, honest-to-God work would jump if there were real labor shortages on the horizon, or if the owners cared.

Some seek to eat the rich for enforcing this regime. I’m reasonably content to mock them.

Ah, Mr. Acevedo, would you fancy some refined white crackers to accompany your beans?

NPR issued a stern “language warning” ahead of its most recent interview with Art Acevedo on All Things Considered, over “an ethnic slur.” I kept thinking he was going to say somebody had called him a beaner or something, but that didn’t make any sense.

The grievously offensive slur came in a short exerpt of Acevedo’s Congressional testimony about systemic police misconduct. “We call them ‘Gypsy cops.'” I could not fucking believe it. I spent fifteen minutes waiting for that segment and listening to it, all ears, and all he said was “Gypsy cops.”

The idiots who run NPR no longer do business in the real world. They can’t even see it from there. The shitcanning of Bob Edwards was an idiot wind. It blows over us to this day, more briskly by the month.

We find ourselves with ro mani problems. We try to fix them with moral window dressing. Gypsy is always a slur, never a descriptor. Language Warnings, tramps, and thieves. we’d hear it from the people of This Town, my God, Halperin; Language Warnings, tramps, and thieves, but every day they buried Tim Russert, we’d sit there in the pews, and fix to lay our money down.

Cher these findings widely; they are signs of our times. It fell on an old wifebeating Chippie to suggest that “Groundhog Day cops” might be a better descriptor, since they kept reappearing: a cheap dodge to a cheap question, but what else can we expect? None of this shit is relevant. It’s an absurd distraction.

It’s NPR.

It’s hard to know where to begin. Oftentimes I sit here, dumbfounded, trying to asbord it all and make faint sense of it. The pettiness, the moralizing, the sycophantic childishness, the sheer unreality: all of it unfolds on an unfathomable plane of thought and existence. Nothing about it intersects with my thinking, observations, or lived experiences. And I went to prep school and college. These are renowned, preeminent reporters. We entrust the news, the first draft of history, to them and their craft.

Maybe Art Acevedo was the Houston Police Chief when one of his riot cops rode his horse over a woman and trampled her, just because she had the uppity nerve to protest the brutality of her city’s police department, and just because he could. Never mind that; Acevedo spoke to Congress, shall we say, inartfully.

What the hell is wrong with them? Are they conniving? Are they just fucking stupid? I had classmates who graduated, apparently in fine academic standing, in a state of stupidity at least as profound as they enjoyed upon their matriculation. I mean, I sat through an admitted students’ roundatble with a girl who used “matrculate” in a manner proving that she believed it to be a synonym for “trickle.” Such are the characters who make the cut. Ponder who doesn’t, and shudder. Then again, I also knew classmates who were deeply amoral, or immoral or, I’m pretty sure, both at the same time.

Who the fuck even told them to warn their audience about a coming ethnic slur and pester the Chief of Police for the City of Houston for using it by way of quoting his own officers’s shorthand for the worst cops in their midst? The schoolmarmish freaks who run that joint always ask for the manager and the owner when they swoop into Fort Wayne or whatever postindusrial junkie dump most recently caught their intenton when their back-of-the-house nerds scanned a map of the Ohio Valley. There’s no way they’re liaising with the village elder of a trailer squat in the backwoods of a palisade peeking discreetly down on the flats of Secaucus for guidance on what to call his clan. Their term for these unwanted visitors would surely be rude; draw up another language warning and get it on air.

The thing about Gypsies is that they’re too busy with the usual Gypsy shit to give a rat’s ass about what a bunch of schoolmarms in Washington have to say about them on Scold Radio. Their interest in the imperial center is pragmatic: manhole covers, the superstitious and their bank accounts, public benefits, getting their fellow Bogles out of the Oregon State Penitentiary and back into the businesses that are worth a damn.

Predictably enough, these are not the sort of things one would worry about as the lavishly salaried host of a radio news show of no particular journalistic standards. So who are they trying to reach? As The Last Psychiatrist liked to say, if you’re watching it, it’s for you. Charles Osgood has yet to see me on the radio, but I’ve got enough trouble without that twee dork.

For better and worse, I’m a college boy. NPR is my cultural residue, an awful and yet irresistable pilgrim journey o fthe mind and the soul. Jesus harrowed hell for three days, which it seems we’re counting at about 25 hours from the Good Friday service to the Easter Vigil; I spend anywhere from two to six hours a day listening to that crap, because, look, I got a rechargeable pocket radio at Target and it’s useful company for laundry or guerrilla blackberry brush clearing or whatever.

Over time, the tics shine through. The cultural compulsions gaze back from the abyss. There is *NO EVIDENCE* that Jeffrey Epstein didn’t kill himself/Seth Rich was killed in anything other than a weird unsolved robbery with no leads in a heavily surveilled and videotaped city/Comet Ping Pong is tied to the weirdly, inexplicably repetitious language in the leaked Clinton e-mails, none of whose context-free words are, say, code for child pornography according to internal FBI manuals.

They’re constantly reporting on their sponsors. Google is a sponsor. Facebook is a sponsor. Amazon is an NPR sponsor. There are hours when they can’t go fifteen minutes without another of these artless disclosures. Yeah, we get it: you’re corrupt. But who the hell is “us?” Just me, I guess, the king of understanding unfortunate things in the news. Wonderful.

KQED radio broadcasts the PBS NewsHour live from Washington at 3:00 pm. BNSF is a sponsor. That’s the amalgamation of, among others, the Burlington Road, the Atchison Topeka & Santa Fe, the Great Northern, and the Northern Pacific. and the Frisco. This behemoth is one of Warren Buffett’s Monopoly pieces. He moves properties around on a board in his parlor across town from the Union Pacific dispatch center. Nobody in the news business has a clue that there is one. We presumably prefer trains that don’t rear-end each other at 55 to 79 miles an hour to ones that do, and maybe there’s a skilled trade of people who monitor rail traffic and control signals and switches to help keep that from happening all the time. Maybe one of them is worth more than a bunker full of Tom Brokaw-ass blowhard jagoffs playing Monopoly with 32.500 miles of trust trackage as just one portfolio holding out of hundreds. To assess the relative vocational value of these activitites, it might help to be aware of railroad dispatching as something that a number of people do for a living in Omaha.

Naw, that’s too earnest. Reagan busted PATCO and fired its air traffic controllers en masse because they worked for a living. That was what the working class wanted: the inability to successfully demand better pay and working conditions from a showboating sellout from the Screen Actors Guild. That’s why they voted for Reagan in Chicago and Hibbing and Montesano when they voted for Carter in 1980 and Mondale in 1984.

That’s the kind of shit any of us might be able to make up for a living if we moved to DC. It’s what we call work.

I’m what we call General Stroganoff. Please, to the table. The people may have a little Beef, As A Treat.

Our rulers and courtiers aren’t just broadly ignorant and incurious. They’re ignorant and incurious about their own news and analysis beats. I know exactly why they didn’t see Trump’s election to the presidency coming: they never socialize with non-Brahmins. If they’re adventurous, they branch out to socialize with #NeverTrump Optimate movement conservative dorks in Loudoun County. They spend hours in Panera lobbies in Alpharetta and emerge with no clue that they were surrounded by Trump voters, convinced that the path to a Democratic South runs through a 60% Republican exurban district full of Yankee transplants who are obviously Democrats and mostly Republicans. Conversely, they dredge up the the most crotchety, vile diner geezers to explain why Erie voted for the Donald by way of voting for Hilldawg.

They don’t even look at the fucking county victory maps. These are the Politics Understanders. Forget the crisis of legitimacy for the moment; this is a blatant crisis of confidence. They’re all morons.

Hillary is liberal, they insist. Huh? She’s a spiteful, prudish old scold who’s permapissed at her notoriously horny husband for chasing strange. Her personal morals are pretty fucking asshole-conservative, by that reckoning, at least. Her libertine husband, however, was never measurably any more liberal than her as a working politician. He threw Joycelynn Elders under the bus because Larry Craig and the gang were sore about sex education (as in, hey now, that’s our job!). He triangulated “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” and signed the Defense of Marriage Act into law, as a notoriously heterosexual married man himself. He grandstanded in front of a military school yard assembly of prison inmates at Stone Mountain, blustering about law and order.

He fucking flew back to Arkansas from the campaign trail to sign a death warrant for the most retarded guy on death row. Does Ricky Ray Rector even register with these asshats? I was nine and a half when Bill had him killed. It shook me to the core. He got exactly the meal plan Randy Newman promised; it was just that he didn’t want to rush dessert.

I keep noticing that some of us live in a world that has consequences. These aren’t just Monopoly pieces being moved around on a board. These are livelihoods. These are qualities of life. This is people’s basic welfare. These are lives. Bill Clinton had a man with the intellectual capacity of a three-year-old killed because his strategists told him it would win him parts of the Upper South and the Midwest. That isn’t liberalism; it’s overpowering illiberalism, because it’s also chilling psychopathy.

If you’re starting from the premise that Slick Wilie was a leading liberal light and berating me for an hour straight about what an ignorant, reckless fool I am for not voting for his hideous, bigoted wife, whom I’m convinced hates me, yo dawg, it ain’t me, chief. If you’re proceeding to lecture me about my duty, to myself and to our country, to vote for the current mush-for-brains dotard, again because he’s the liberal, I will of course be perfectly fucking blunt: Joe Biden is a handsy pervert, an authoritarian bigot, a serial liar, a man who 32 years ago dropped out of a race for the same office he’s currently seeking after he was exposed plagiarizing a British prime minister’s speeches, and by now visibly a drugged-up mush-for-brains dotard. You may want him, but that doesn’t mean I do, asshole. As it is, I’m barely, possibly in his camp, and that’s only because Donald Trump has veered into armed factional sedition and late-stage Qaddafi-Borgia mashup oratory.

Our soi-disant liberal scolds moan that they want more educated, informed voters. They can sack up and come talk to me about what it’s like to actually be one. Alternately, they can shut the fuck up. I rather enjoy the latter option.

These motherfuckers have spent my entire adolescent and adult lifetime rubbing it in our faces that this whole political spectacle is a frivolous game to them. It is, by their own slobbering accounts, a horserace. They’re degenerate enough to play the ponies, for sure. The only reason they were angry at Brett Kavanaugh was that he didn’t clean up the way they preferred, choosing instead to daydrink and snort a big line on his way to his tantrum in front of some of their faves on the Hill. That, and he raped a high-caste white girl, which is the same thing.

Excuse me, but I am not here to take these pearlclutching, sanctimonious nerds seriously. I’ve been homeless. It’s amazing to get into spats online with #Resistance deadenders about our duty to vote for Joe Biden this time and watch them completely fail to register that I’ve been homeless when I explicitly say so. They aren’t even, like, whoa, shit, are you serious? It flies straight over their heads. I had a guy call me disturbed and a bot for pushing back on his horseshit narrative about the public’s scandalously insufficient deference to the Democratic Party’s eminences grises. For real, I’ll be over on alt, using the same writing and argumentation style I use here, minus most of the shitposting, and I’ll have overpaid idiots calling me a disturbed dipshit and a bot.

One of the lessons from these unfortunate interactions is that cryptoclinically disordered ideations are much more prevalent than advertised. We’re talking paranoid, schizoid, post-traumatic. One of Donald Trump’s strokes of genius is his knack for reaching the schizoid and the paranoid on their own channels. He isn’t exactly one of them, but he vibes with that. He channels the denpa, as the Japanese call it. Normie bipartisan ratfuck politicians never allow themselves to go with a flow so subversive.

Trump uses this gift for little but deep evil. Like any other spiritual gift, it is abused with terrible ease, and the Donald is rarely any better than amoral. Our shitlibs and mostly disingenuous #NeverTrump movement conservatives are still idiots to ignore his spiritual attunement to the ideation of so many of our disturbed shut-ins, given how often they vote.

These bipartisan shitbirds are exactly the scum that rises to the top in a society whose talented tenth bully the rest of us into a political economy devoted to pure, distilled amoral rationality and purged of all spirituality. They’re here to impose hard science and drive out all humanities–all humanity, really. They aren’t actually scientific or rational, but they insist they are, and they have the resources to pay intellectual mercenaries to say so 24/7.

As it always bears repeating, they do not live in any part of our real world. They hardly even visit. When they do, they squeamishly moan about how gross it is. Techbros are trying to gentrify the Tenderloin, for some mindbogglingly fucking bizarre reason. It’s probably just because they’re used to getting their way. It’s probably just because they can. If we’re paying attention to the details of life in San Francisco we might flounder for months scrutinizing the thinking of some asshole like Jack Dorsey and contemplating why he’s also the guy who flew to Burma to sit on the floor all day and injure his ass. This isn’t a particularly foolish pursuit, but it is for naught. That motherfucker pulls that shit, all of it, because he can.

They all do. Every time one of these pricks shows up for another round of gentrification, he’s just throwing his weight around, because he feels like it, and because he can. Occam’s Razor always puts a crude cut on that bitch. It goes full SEPTA 61-Ridge Badlands on a motherfucker, not Dennis Geyer knife time.

It’s so easy to overthink these ghouls. Here’s the dumb but powerful thing: Many members of the upper middle class, scions and arrivistes alike, are not members of the cognitive elite, but a great many of the cognitive elite are members of the upper middle class. It’s subtle but important.

This is a skeleton key to how and why Rex Tillerson very perceptively called Donald Trump a fucking moron. Rex is an engineer who spent a career spanning roughly two generations in the oil industry, delegating the vast majority of the operational work as he rose into the executive ranks but still keeping a keen eye on operations and providing extensive guidance to operational chiefs. The Donald inherited the proceeds of an outer-borough slumlord empire from his sleazy father and wormed his way over the bridge into Manhattan, and you can betcha that meant the part below 95th Street. He plastered his name on a series of showboat businesses that he promptly ran into the ground. Then he went on television and played a shitbag simulacrum of Lee Iacocca.

None of this military school bone spur malingerer’s shtick had anything to do with competence. He’s just an actor. As Doug Casey says, acting is like prostitution: an honorable profession, but one that shouldn’t be taken too seriously. Casey lures bitcoin dipshits to his bugout spread in Argentina, or maybe it’s his buddy’s spread, to violate Argentinian labor laws by working for free in the vineyard, but he’s right about both professions. Kim Kardashian and Lindsay Lohan are entertainers. A healthy, livable society always has its buskers, its orchestra musicians, its stage actors, its Wesley Willis multimedia visionaries, its muralists, its interior designers, and its whores. This is the good shit.

The problem is that we take the more prominent of these entertainers,, who are not coincidentally often some of the more mediocre, as real-life leaders. This is a key driver of our epistemic closure as a nation. As John Regan, my favorite monarchist blogger, says, societies always end up with a hereditary elite, so they might as well collect and curate one for official adoration. I don’t care for this idea, but I have a hard time refuting it. All I can do is enthuse about Nicola Sturgeon, England’s low-key smallholders and craftsmen, and the National Fruit Collection. No, I’m not talking about Elton John; if you look it up you’ll see.

It’s not like I’m necessarily against getting a piece of Caterbury tail. Regan has openly admired Kim’s more demure nudes: not my idea of taste, but if you look at the other stuff I’ve published here you’ll know that I have no business commenting on taste, which I never promise to have from minute to minute. The hilarious thing is that Regan and Kardashian are colleagues; I recall hearing that she’s in law school, and if anyone has ghostwritten law review articles, it’s Kim. A bitch has to balance her personal branding and her intellectual interests.

We do that out on the streets, too, for our own welfare and survival. The idea that Chuck and Nancy or any of the Trump family, maybe excepting Tiffany, have any capacity or interest to relate to ordinary Americans, let alone to the poor of them, is absurd. They live in a different, unreal, surreal world. The homeless psychotic guy at the Metro 40 bus stop at Inglewood and Century, catty corner from the Yoshinoya and the laundromat, who told me about how he was “pretty much traveling between universes right now,” happily and graciously conceded the validity of my only perceptible universe. Is that A340 actually on final approach to 24L, or is it on short final to a wormhole? We can’t see it, can we? Sure, you just landed on 25L without incident this afternoon, but what’s its turbulence?

I’m absolutely serious that Turbulence Dude was more attuned to the lives of the sane, functional people around him than Fancy Nancy and her crew have been in years, if ever. He probably had other bums telling him that he was batshit fucking nuts, and hey, we aren’t all traveling between the same universes at the same time. There’s all kinds of angles for astral projections, shit, a lot of universes, and maybe you’ll encounter a few more on the 40 by the time you hit Western, or maybe you won’t, yeah, that’s probably it.

Nobody tells Nancy that she’s totally full of shit and totally out of touch. She pays for layers of security and sycophancy to cosset herself against this insolence. That’s why I usually show her no manners whatsoever when I call her Washington office and demand the constituent services we’re all due as Americans. She’d catch worse in the Tenderloin. She is domiciled right about two miles from the SFPD Tenderloin Station, the official Heart of the Shitty. I’ve been looking for her home address, which has to be a matter of public record for her to represent the Twelfth District, but I guess they try to memory-hole that shit even though it’s a constitutional requirement to verify it for public office. It’s not like she stays there on any given night away from Washington, as opposed to any of her other opulent properties; I mean, we all know she lives on Zinfandel Lane; but she governs us, so it’s obviously relevant.

Our politicians are ever less our servants, ever more our masters. Lincoln rode around Washington alone on his horse. He walked across the street, alone if nobody wished to accompany him, to the same church whose perimeter Trump ordered goons from his palace guard to violently clear so he could pose with what he called “a Bible.” Harry and Bess Truman retired to their old unassuing house in the Independence town platt. Fancy Nancy would never settle for a single bungalow when she can own at least three castles for her personal use. The third is her pied-a-terre in Washington; that’s a ridiculous term of art for anywhere she lives or works, but the French, bruh.

We’ve had high elected officials, even presidents, who lived in the real world. The Roosevelts were ungodly rich but still had a keen finger on the ordinary American’s pulse. Trump does, too, after a weird fashion, but mainly by way of setting narrow factions against outgroups they already hate and activating segments of the mentally ill.

It’s a good bet that a sneering, mobbed-up centimillionaire Baltimore mayoral daughter who’s been in Washinton forever and represents the next thing to a rotten borough ain’t it, and in Pelosi’s case it’s the correct bet.

Prior to the techbro invasion, San Francisco was a socioeconomically diverse city where people of ordinary means could afford to live, not on Nob Hill but at least somewhere in the Richmond, the Sunset, the Excelsior, or whatever. Tech purged the city of the middle class: the old-timers cashed out and moved out, and the newcomers and local kids found themselves unable to get by anywhere closer than Hayward or Petaluma.

What this exodus left behind was the usual Tenderloin losers, with their 5-10% turnout or whatever the fuck they achieve at the polls (it’s a free country; take your own guess); thousands of non-Anglophone noncitizens cooped up in SRO’s in Chinatown, counted in the census but not on the voter rolls; and the rich. I’m only half eliding this shit. A whole lot of ordinary working people fled or got run out of town. San Francisco’s black population hasn’t been cratering by coincidence.

Members of my native upper middle class ask me, incredulously, how I can possibly believe that Nancy Pelosi and Hillary Clinton hate the poor. Epistemic closure, like every other vice, causes less chaos and damage for the rich, so that’s nice, but let’s look at her with clear eyes and clear minds. Her net worth is mathematically impossible on a Congressional salary. She’s easily worth an order of magnitude more than a six-sigma miser would be able to amass on a Congressional salary. Yeah yeah, she’s got family money–as I note from time to time, her father was a huge mob crook–but she also owns a constellation of successful investment properties and an ample stock portfolio, blind trust my fat white ass, and Congress is crawling with habitual insider traders. Congresscritters don’t just kind of end up in positions to buy into the Napa Valley landed gentry. That takes some combination of marrying well and juice.

/Annoying little Mexican girl meme/ Why Not Both? How could the modal asshole in that joint not work every available angle? It was, what, six or eight percent of the Senate that got exposed insider-trading on information from the Covid-19 briefing over the winter? Plus they’re all positioned to place their kin and cronies in sinecures and get paid for it. There’s an old Anglo-Saxonism for a five- or six-figure speaking fee for spending half an hour at an all-expenses-paid junket regurgitating gobbledygook: we call that a bribe.

The last bus any of these assholes is riding is the Straight Talk Express. The Democrats among them are permanently furious with Bernie Sanders, a rare colleague who for the most part thinks and speaks like a normal adult of ordinary means. Obfuscation is the coin of their realm, and yet they wonder why some of us distrust them. Yeah, asshole, it doesn’t take a proctological exam to determine that a serial liar and fraud is full of shit.

The reason I don’t trust Fancy Nancy, Hillz, the Big Dog, or any of the rest of their ilk to do a damn thing for the poor is that I have every reason to distrust them. That’s a circular argument for my distrust of the circle jerkers, but I’ve been over the particulars more times than I can count. Homelessness, emotional abuse (in my case, consistently at the hands of overt or tacit socioeconomic superiors), and hard downward mobility have resulted, inter alia, in my acquiring a worldview divergent from that of the Brahmins I left behind up there. Their worldview and interests are not mine.

This is a suprisingly hard teaching for them. As I keep having to ask, who the hell are “we?” It ain’t me, governor.

There was, of course, a mass delusional break among establishment Democratic officials and their voters in 2016. A guy they really disliked caught them off guard and won the presidency. All of a sudden, everything was the Kremlin’s fault. This is an overt delusion of persecution. We often see such ideation in the clinically psychotic.

This is not, however, a case of denpa, but rather a flareup of mass hysteria with an indefinite half-life. This shit is extremely fashionable among the fashionable. It is not a low-class hobby for schizoid shut-ins; it’s much, much worse. Change any of the characters in this play and see how it sounds. “John Cox would have won the California gubernatorial election, but Angela Merkel had German junior intelligence analysts under her direct command catfish as American chat buddies and brainwash entire communities of conservative Chicanos.”

Out on the streets, that’s what we call nuts. We’re walking the 5150 block on that journey. Some of us have reasons for being sick of that shit. For one thing, it isn’t even fun. Most psychotics aren’t just trying to deflect blame for shitting the bed, the way the Democrats have been doing for the past four years. It’s always someone else’s fault. In my case alone, it’s my fault for taking negatively to Hillary, for having positive reactions AT ALL to Donny Fingers, for having an affirmative enthusiasm for Jill Stein. It’s a batshit insane binary: #WithHer or Against Her, and Against Her means with HIM. This is nonsense: one of the reasons I voted for Stein was that Trump put me off, too. I got sick of that fucker by the time I got my ballot.

These dipshits construe the entire 2016 election as a humiliating, scandalous breach of deference. Why America’s yacht dealers and dentists wanted to defer to the pussyhatters in the first place is beyond them, too, because Trump’s Optimate base does not exist to them. This is why I’m one of their scapegoats for not taking their orders in the completion of my legally secret ballot.

Fuck that, of course. What’s crazy is that these delusions of persecution are a high-class phenomenon. This is political astuteness, too Them. That guy from Inglewood needs to catch the bus and run some universe checks on these freaks. Listening to millionaires, some of them bigtime multmillionaires, whine about the breach of their aesthetics and their norms, and now pivot to the frantic assertion that the election of a different rapist and flagrant sex pest is feminism, doesn’t impress me in a good way.

Besides, if the plan is to convince me that Biden or the Clintons or some such trash love the poor like Jesus and Trump hates the poor, it might be a good idea to demonstrate either some personal familiarity with what it’s like to be poor or else some working observations. They never show up with this. It’s hopeless for me to explain how and why I have to observe and understand them more accurately than they have to observe and understand me. It’s the stuff of a basic human education, which they so proudly completed, In School.

Add this to the treasury of things not understood about Christian teaching and practice in this, Our Christian Country. The average Hindu seeker who’s looking in bashfully and wondering what possesses us to lay it all on a single god-guru and the two other gods who are part of him understands Christianity better than our biblethumping leaders ever do, just by not being hardhearted and idiotic.

Ever since Constantine we’ve been discovering anew how pigheaded and disastrous it is to try to mold Christianity into an official imperial religion. Christian discipleship, which, to lightly paraphrase Gandhi, sounds like a marvelous idea, is, leaving aside questions of strict divinity, a lifelong pilgrimage in the path of a humble mystic, healer, and almsgiver who was put to death for defying the Roman imperial authorities and one of their Levantine satrapies. Even if we’re convinced that he’s a god, not the God, or what have we, reading from Eccleasiastes to clap back at a political opponent for holding “a Bible” up as a crude talisman who’s power didn’t even interest him and then proceeding to do nothing for the poor and vulnerable among one’s legislative constituents plainly ain’t it. Remember, “as you do to the least of these, you do to me.” This sure seems like it applies to civil officials who wield great power to provide for the needs of the poor, or to refuse them all aid.

The confusion over this discord between word and deed starts to lift as we consider that American governments are formed mainly from incarnations of the Antichrist. Hypocrisy doesn’t always sound quite right as an explanation; it’s at least a significant component, but we’re talking about people with serious delusional disorders, the loudest of them having to do with Russian spook sabotage and chat bot mind control. They’re evil, but they aren’t JUST evil. There’s a whole lot going on here.

In any event, we do have a leadership class of Structural Antichrist. Casual but sincere students of Christian scripture and tradition know more than well enough what’s wrong with this shit and why it’s a huge fraud. Countless outsiders who have studied Christianity look at what passes for Christianity in the United States and think, correctly, what the fuck.

The synthesis here is gross but compelling. We’re all about epistemic closure, we’re all about in-your-face Christian piety, and so, QED, epistemic closure in the name of Christ Jesus is extremely our shit. Reading some decontextualized bollocks about seasons of life from Ecclesiastes for the sole purpose of one-upping a political opponent for being proudly ignorant of the whole book of books is what we call Christianity, instead of suspecting that the Tenderloin is exactly Jesus’s beat and he wants us to at least try to do something about it.

As I said, Fancy Nancy is in a position to really do something. I show up in the confessional guilty that I was curt with some bums and knew I could spare them a few bucks. Most of us fail here more than we succeed and fall down more readily than we get back up, and it’s a good reason to seek maybe not so much absolution as guidance, but I’d say we could use some fucking help from that bitch on this job. We could certainly do worse than to rebuke her and her kind as rudely as seems useful.

Our rulers need to be dragged, kicking and screaming if they insist on being so graceless, back into the real world, to do the jobs they owe us. All they’ve been doing lately is making messes and contemptuously leaving them for us to clean up. The quality of lawmaking and administration they offer us is abysmal.

This is why we had to have the police brutality protests. Our lawmakers would feel differently about cops kneeling on people’s necks if cops barged into their living rooms and knelt on their necks. These atrocities are always for the little people. The high theory holds that with great power comes great responsibility; the low practice ensures that with great power comes great power. Power asserts itself for its own sake. Our rulers have the same morals and appetites as a cancer.

One difference, of course, is that cancer doesn’t stage a Kente Cloth Kneeling Ceremony for the purpose of exorcising the centuries-old racial sins of a nation founded on chattel slavery. There’s no making this shit up. Nancy got down on her knee, like, a week and a half after reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes. It feels like it could have been months. It should have taken decades, because she should never, ever have been involved in anything of the sort. Still in Kente shawls, Chuck and Nancy glared down at the press pool from behind their masks like two exceedingly hostile and condescending birds of prey. In fairness, though, they look only marginally less contemptuous from the dais when they’re unmasked and not dressed like Kwanzaa show-and-tell fools.

It’s all inconceivably absurd. They have a job to do, and that ain’t it. Even by P. J. O’Rourke’s reckoning, their branch of the government is money, not television. Nothing about kneeling on the floor for over eight minutes in a doofus waka waka hey hey vestment is a reasonable or bona fide way to respond to a police misconduct scandal in which a cop knelt on a man’s neck until he was dead. We’ve living in the twilight zone of elected assholes who will always resent us, their constituents, for demanding their representation. God help us if we deserve the grandparenting of Chuck and Nancy.

The Kente Cloth Kneeling Ceremony is an exceptionally flagrant example of our epistemic closure. In a single outrageously self-absorbed stunt the Congressional Democratic leadership provocatively recapitulated the murder of George Floyd in a gesture that was at the same time bathetically meaningless, elevated vacuous style over crucial substance, dicked around in ethnic garb like a Nigerian federal cabinet with Swiss bank accounts full of embezzled oil royalties and bribes, clumsily tried to stand back up, preened about their racial magnanimity at a time when blue-on-black killings had their nation at the flashpoint, and declined all around to do their fucking jobs. They’re shitheads, but they aren’t JUST shitheads. They expected this provocation to bear political benefits. They of course arrogantly assumed that the serfs they didn’t want reacting peevishly to their contempt would miss the show, or at least would hold their peace (fuck off lol), but they were pandering to a core constituency every bit as performatively vapid as themselves. Nancy know her neighbors. No, not the ones hard up in the Tenderloin, a mere two miles down the hill, but the ones who matter, the ones like herself. Duh.

This horseshit is never about Africa. An interest in West Africa might inspire astute observations of the culture that Congress shares with its counterparts in Nigeria, specifically, their common love of being huge crooks who live to take bribes. Instead, the usual suspects, Inner Party and Outer Party alike, are again walking around with their thumbs up their asses, proud that they are at last getting justice for Kunta Kinte. It’s an odd way to react to protests over a guy from Houston getting murdered by a cop in Minneapolis. That sounds pretty American and not very Ghanaian. It doesn’t seem like a national evil we can purge by holding a seance with Kwame Nkrumah.

Then again, Africa has had blameshifting no-account incompetents in high elected office, too, and Jerry Rawlings is white. Kente Cloth didn’t have anything to do with OJ, either, until the Dream Team decided it did and got Lance Ito to compliment them on their ties. Still, I’m down here, thinking that if I traded places with Fancy Nancy I’d be working on telling the police what to do, such as immediately arresting their colleagues upon establishing probable cause for murder if they want federal appropriations to continue, and not making a huge ass of myself by doing Motherland cosplay on the boob tube.

This cosplay was much more crudely and divisively racialized than anything about the Black Lives Matter movement. The point of BLM is to demand that the police stop murdering black people. The police have been murdering African-Americans ever since there have been Africans in the Americas. They aren’t reachable like black street gangs or lone hotheads, either. They go around murdering people at will.

Sometimes those people are white. The “All Lives Matter” countermovement doesn’t actually give a shit about life. Provocateurs like Matt Walsh pop up out of the woodwork to scold BLM protesters for not demanding justice for Daniel Shaver or whoever, reasonable points that might be well taken if they’d had anything to say about these cases in the years prior to the murder of George Floyd. The emblematic All Lives Matter demonstration was the attempted point-blank bow-and-arrow attack in Salt Lake City. Protesters nearby agreed with him sufficiently to bumrush him and stop him from fully acting on his violent disdain for life.

The “Black Lives Matter” framing is divisive, but only incidentally so. Exceedingly few people who are horrified by Floyd George’s murder would say that Daniel Shaver had it coming as a honky or that Brailsford is a good cop. There is no natural antagonism between those who want justice for Floyd and those who want justice for Shaver. Any distrust can be assuaged.

BLM is not a movement of racists who want Whitey to be murdered by cops. It’s an interracial movement of people demanding an end to police brutality. Its emphasis is on black lives, as opposed to all lives, because African-Americans bear the brunt of police violence. Cops preferentially harass, menace, assault, and murder black people. Where black targets are scarce, however, or for that matter whenver a non-black person pisses them off, they’ll gladly take it out on Caucasians, Asians, Hispanics, American Indians, or whoever else is in the vicinity, especially if they’re poor.

This is a profession whose members have been given carte blanche authority to batter, strangle, rape, and murder people under color of law and force of arms. Support for these thugs and their enablers correlates with affluence and wealth: the moneyed know that the police, the managers of Outside, are their de facto mercenaries; the poor know that cops are as shitty and abusive as they feel like being. The downwardly mobile feel the injustice acutely as a looming threat to their own welfare and survival.

We can guess, with perfect ease and accuracy, which side Fancy Nancy takes in this war. That’s right: not ours. She hates poor people and demands servants; cops are overpaid servants who hate the poor.

By NPR’s reckoning all of this has to do with Gypsies. “Gypsy cops” is a slur on the Romani, not on lemon dance thugs. The United States has very little communal tension between Gypsies and the rest of us, so NPR is there to inadvertently foment it through its sheer woke ineptitude. But Chief, why do your officers them “Gypsy cops?” Jesus tapdancing Christ, you fucking nerd, why the hell do you think? How much of an asskissing dork do you have to be to ask that in the first place?

Mary Louise Kelly is here to distract Art Acevedo from police reform. I need to take up drinking again.