Wednesday, May 18, 2016
The Evil of Two Lessers...
So it's come down to this? With somewhere around 330,000,000 people in America, not counting 10 or 12 or 18 or 50 million illegals, and a bunch of ISIS/ISIL/Al Queadeedada/Al Gore, and some number of foreign spies, and no doubt a significant number of those who arrived via UFO's, intermarried and are now teaching at the University of Chicago, the very best we can do is Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump for President of the United States of America? The U. S. of A? Really?
As a good loyal 'Murican I must tell you I find this hard to believe! With a starting lineup of a whole bunch of the very most qualified candidates in the history of our Country, we're left with these two? Like, we're living in some sort of Bizarro World! Trump or Clinton? Really?
In normal times, we're faced with choosing between the lesser of two evils at election time. Today? I suggest it is rather the evil of two lessers. And here's why:
On the one side we have a woman who wrote her senior thesis at Wellesley on her hero, Saul Alinsky. He's the guy who wrote "Rules for Radicals." That's the tome that advocates the destruction of capitalist America from within to turn it, by any means necessary, forcibly or otherwise, into a socialist utopia. By the way, our Mr. B. Hussein Obama is a very big fan of Alinsky and his little book and has been using his methods to "fundamentally transform America." (For those of you who have been living in a dumpster behind Wal-Mart, this is what Barry O. promised during his January 15, 2009 speech, just five days before he was immaculated...the libby bozo.).
A woman who somehow managed to join in the Watergate Hearings during the effort to oust Tricky Dick Nixon from office. Oh yeah, she was fired for lying under oath. And lying became Hill's raison detre. She's done almost nothing else since...
A closet socialist royalty-wannabe who has ridden the coattails of her serial sexual-predator hubby, Billy Jeff "Blue Dress" Clinton, into success she truly does not deserve. An aging woman of questionable health, no more than middling intellect and minimal political skills who, after failing her D.C. Bar exam, managed somehow to turn a Yaley law degree into becoming Arkansas's's's First Lady, carpetbag Senator of New York, Barry O's frequent-flyer Secretary of State, and now uber-rich Prez candidate with about $500 million in ill-gotten gains tucked safety away under a mattress somewhere. And all she had to do to achieve this level of wealth and fame was to trade influence to the Arkansas Statehouse, the White House, and then the State Department in exchange for gargantuan donations to her unscrupulous foundations.
A woman whose voice is quite a lot like the sound a rusty file makes when vigorously and rapidly rubbed against spring steel. A sound that is eerily similar to that made by a blue tick hound at full bay whilst treeing a terrified raccoon. A sound that's similar to a runaway leaf blower brandished by an illegal alien early on a Sunday morning when you're trying your very best to sleep off a hard night on the town. A screeeeech that confounds the senses and makes the nerve endings vibrate eerily. A sound that cannot be duplicated nor forgotten. Very unfortunately. A sound that if played over the loudspeaker at GITMO's little jail, would guarantee those jihadist killer buttholes would swear to whomever to never, ever, ever go back to the battlefield if their keepers would just - please Mohammmmmed - STOP THAT NOISE!
A sound that, when accented with a laugh, is much more a cackle. A laugh that usually precedes your entrance into the House of Horrors when the carnival comes to town. A laugh that comes at the most inappropriate moments. A laugh that would however be appropriate as she lifts off on Broom Force One. A laugh that's so unnerving as to cause milk to curdle. Yes, my friends, you know her as Hil(liar)y Clinton. The maybe, please God, hopefully not, never, ever, Pantsuit-in-Chief!
And on the other, we have a guy who was born on third base and thought he'd hit a triple. An orange guy with a bushel basket full of cotton candy hair. A guy who starts every single sentence with "I will tell you this!" And inserts "believe me! believe me!," and "very, very," and "millions and millions," and "am I right?," at least three times in every paragraph that tumbles willy nilly from his overactive mouth. A guy who doesn't drink and doesn't smoke and doesn't do drugs, but makes up for all those non-vices by vicing the crap out of things by tweeting his ass off all day and all night.
A guy who will swear to something during a debate and tell you the very next day that he absolutely never said it, and sometimes just a few minutes later. Or maybe even in the same sentence! A guy who never had a business go upside down, he says, except for the very many that did, of course. A guy who, when asked to comment on a recent primary victory, said "I won bigly." "Bigly?" l know I make up words, but hey, I'm not running for POTUS!
A guy who is neither a Democrat nor a Republican, but rather a "Trumpian." A guy who, depending upon when you ask him, is both for and against increasing taxes, hiking the minimum wage, building a wall on the Meheeeekan border, defunding Planned Parenthood, eliminating NATO, and recommending every single country on Earth have its own unending supply of nuclear weapons.
A narcissistic, bombastic, buffoonish, egomanical, bloviating, blusterous, scowling, rude, crude, conniving, intimidating, misogynistic, carnival barker ruffian bully clown who has mastered the ability to say lots and lots of stuff at a fourth-grade level with machine gun rapidity, without ever uttering a single coherent thought. A guy who is the smartest, the quickest, the coolest, the nicest, the toughest and the very most important POTUS candidate, except for Abraham Lincoln, of course, that ever lived. Or so he says.
Some of us know better. A guy who turned a very "small loan" of just $1 Million Dollars from his daddy, plus a "small inheritance" of somewhere north of $100 Million into his gargantuan empire. (Full disclosure: I turned a very "small loan" of $150 from my daddy into my first car, a very used 1953 Chevy. And I had to pay it back, with interest. BTW, I loved that car!). His name is Donald John Trump. It used to be Donald John Drumpf, before daddy changed it). The maybe next Media Star and Deal Maker-in-Chief. But you knew that.
However, given that we're heading into the General Election Season, and knowing that these two presumptive candidates, the most hated persons in America, the two politicians with the absolute worst negatives of any who have ever pursued The Office, will do their best to eviscerate each other over the next several months, I thought it might prove helpful to give you a little deeper dive into each of them as they prepare to run for President of the United states. They will tear into each other with viggah, I tell you! They will explore each others' weaknesses, gaffes, foiables, duplicities, mischarac-terzations, misrepresentations, sexual proclivities and outright, bald-faced lies. And each will present, using Top Gun-speak, a very "target rich environment" for the other.
And so, my friends, and you are my friends, I will attempt over the coming weeks to provide you, my legions of loyal readers, with the inside dope on each of these remarkably flawed - and talented - candidates, and with some of the stuff they might each choose to use to disembowel the other in front of all to see. In fact, maybe they'll choose to do so on Pay-per-View. Stay tuned. It should be interesting...
Epilogue: In closing, I prayed to God before the Primary Season began to grant me enough more life to see the process through; to watch our Country go through the "sausage making" to the point where we had selected a shiny new President of the United States. A POTUS actually qualified for the office for the very first time in eight years. I wonder if there's someone out there in Internet Land who knows how to rescind a prayer?