Kahomono - It Means Lucky

Random musings on whatever subject strikes my fancy that day.

Category: Politics (Page 1 of 37)

Fractious, Fragile, Frightened

The White House Correspondents’ Dinner is an opportunity for the press in Washington to poke some fun at the President, and for his part the president is supposed to take it with good humor, and then poke back a bit in his own talk.  It’s like a toned-down version of a Friar’s Club roast.

President Pumpkin knows he’s in for the same treatment as every other President in this annual ceremony, and has decided to skip it.  This is the first time since 1978 the President will have been absent.  Even in 1981, Reagan phoned in a talk from his convalescent bed – he was recovering from being wounded in the assassination attempt.

The White House Correspondents Association president, Jeff Mason, announced that the dinner would be held anyway. He said that the dinner “…has been and will continue to be a celebration of the First Amendment and the important role played by an independent news media in a healthy republic.”  [emphasis mine]  There you have a big clue to why Pumpkin is giving it a miss: that whole First Amendment thing is not at all to his liking, no, not one bit.

But also, the fragility of his ego won’t allow him to listen to the joking with any good humor.  And the deadly seriousness of his adversarial position toward the legitimate press expresses as outright hostility to any media outlet that refuses to play stenographer to his propaganda.

I do, however, like this idea for how to fill the major gap in the program. After all, the President’s talk will not be heard.

Invite this guy!

Dynamite Cabinet

If you look at these Cabinet nominees, they were selected for a reason, and that is deconstruction

I said it in December.  Now everyone is saying so.  Because Bannon admitted it!  The mission of the Pumpkin administration is to destroy the government.  Burn it to the ground.  Blow it to smithereens.

They think the country will be better off without it.  No, scratch that.  They don’t give a f*ck about the country.  They think they will be better off without it.

They’re wrong on both counts but it won’t matter.

When Parody Becomes Impossible

Tom Tomorrow is one of those cartoonists who struggle mightily to parody Trump.  It just never works very well.  It’s not TT’s fault, however: Trump’s straight-on reality reads like such an over-the-top parody that actual parody could never have credibility enough to be readable.

This week’s example:


Lizard Brains

Do you remember middle school, when two kids got in a fight and the crowd around them started chanting, Oogh, oogh! Oogh, oogh!

Pres. Pumpkin is not talking to the people for whom words represent ideas leading to logical arguments and rational decisions.  He is certainly not talking to these reporters in any important way.  He is talking directly to the lizard-brains of the worst among us. And it’s been wildly successful so far.

That is what his speech pattern is.  It bypasses whatever intellect his fans have. And since they no longer believe in the power of thought and reality, they reject anyone who does believe in those things.

As soon as he’s threatened, we’ll see whether this is recoverable.  The only way to stop it is to put it on full ignore.  I think civilization depends on it.


New Ringtone!

For my work phone!

Now this composer remains very unjustly obscure.  Because few works of Western culture have a more immediate and powerful connotation than this one.

I would love to hack all the phones at the White House and do nothing but put this on as the ringtone.  Considering their track record so far with technical challenges such as light switches, it should be a hoot for weeks!

Your Elected Representatives, Ladies and Gentlemen

Florida Rethuglican trots out the Blood Libel Death Panel lie again.  What’s scary is that he thinks this can still get traction.

Check out his mockery of his constituents victims at 00:50.  “OK Children”.

What does he care for voters?  The only election that matters to him is the right-wing billionaires’ decision on how much money to give him for feeding their greed.


A Mildly Complaining Story

I was preparing my lunch at the office when someone wandered into the kitchenette and said something that just pegged the racist-o-meter.

Once I got away from this character, I just wanted a mental frais-palate.  So I found this on the YouTubes:

And still, there was no escape.  The bro at 2:20 who needed to remind his adult daughters that they are his property just blew me away.

I had chosen not to fight with my office racist because I feel I need to reserve that energy for arenas where it can actually help people I care about and who are vulnerable.

Then, I was looking for a recharge and instead I got a slap from a slat of the manbox.  I guess some days are like that.

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