who are you and what have you done with my country?

it’s 6:30 a.m., soon after the first sunrise of a long night that will continue for years. I last checked the counting four hours ago. We didn’t get Florida, Georgia looked doubtful and North Carolina was teetering. These were the three must-gets for tRump and it looks like he’ll get them all. But we flipped Arizona, including the Senate seat (Huzzah! for Mark Kelly; now we have a real Space Cadet on Capitol Hill!) And we picked off an electoral vote in Nebraska. At 2:30 a.m. tRump hadn’t taken anything Hilary got in 2016, which keeps us still on track to win, but man oh man, this is sure-fugly winning.

The new voter said a couple more choice words, called the Town Clerk a bitch, leaned in, opened her unmasked mouth and forcefully exhaled directly into — and about 6 inches away from — the Clerk’s startled face. Then she left.

Who are we, America? How could so many of you look past the babies in the cages, the pandemic inertia, the lies! The ceaseless cataract of lying! The self-dealing. The tossed rolls of paper towels. Jeebus. The Ugliest American is the preferred candidate of tens of millions of my countrymen? Really? I don’t care who’s President; THAT‘s a massive political challenge right there, that is.

read on…

clear the hall; it’s election day

It is an American Election Day and this morning, in the dark before sunrise, Donald J tRump seems a very small and petty presence on the national stage — a street urchin who stole into the theater at midweek, and has been horsing around with the scrims and the lights and the set pieces, breaking things, pushing all the works to their mechanical and structural limits. He has just found the flying rig from Peter Pan!

“…a tumbling, bloated and bellowing boy, horribly scared of heights, shrieking at the operator at once to sweep him higher faster, and to land him…”

read on…