of November

April 1, 2016

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I’ve resisted writing about the pending November disaster but given that even my Girlfriend doesn’t read me, I’m think it safe territory to put my thoughts down and perhaps it’ll actually help me sort them. Which is really what I should be aiming for anyways.

There are two things I’m very solid on.
1. Never Trump. I’d vote for Deez Nuts before I’d toss his direction.
2. I’m very torn about both wanting to see this Great Experiment go down in a huge ball of flames, for which it richly deserves at this point, or hoping a contested convention might see a unknown and completely unexpected Phoenix rise from the ashes to save the day and Country.

What’s new for me is that I’m actually hoping for complete and utter chaos at the GOP convention. We need it. A reset. If we survive it.

I must believe we will survive because what keeps me up at night, eyes wide, bunched up and grabbing my knees close to my chest, is the thought of potential SCOTUS seats that might become vacant in the next administration and if any of the current field of candidates were to get their grubby little fingers (yes, exactly, Trump as well) on them…it’s over. Really over.

The William F. Buckley, Jr. strategy of voting for the most electable has failed us, I think.
The idea being that even if not perfect, we’d likely get more accomplished with a moderate than a true conservative and that, otherwise, you’d just be throwing away your vote.
After decades of pursuing this tactic, it has resulted in the GOP becoming virtually indistinguishable from the Democrats, moving further and further to the left to be palatable.
Well, helloooo Trump!

Trump is by no means a conservative, which makes his rise that much more curious, but it’s completely predictable, reasonable even, to see how after decades of incremental gains the progressive, politically correct, agenda has made, there would be a radical shift in the other direction, by a largely ignored and discounted middle America.

No doubt my liberal Friends would insist the average Trump supporter simply uninformed or rather, just simple, but I like to imagine I am neither and there is a certain appeal to a candidate that lends voice to what certainly the rest of us are thinking, but too chickenshit to air.

This is all too apparent in the spate of recent episodes of the Left eating their own. Where overbearing, intrusive, policies or agendas are now targeting the very demographic who instituted their organic (yes!!, been hoping to use that word to this effect!), viral spread.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you inappropriate appropriation!!

Now if I were to generalise, and God knows I love to, I’d guess that poor bastard with the dreads is wondering just how the hell he got there.
Why, no doubt some of his best friends are black. He’s all for legalization, he’s pro-choice, Meat is murder, safe spaces, Mother earth, Palestine.
A quick look at the back of his Prius would have easily fended off this would-be attacker, had she just noticed that he had all the right bumper stickers, his bone fides.
He’s on your side. He’s in the club and obviously “irie”!
~psst, good story, bro. How’s Trump sounding now?~

Well, it’s just a thing of beauty to witness. Seriously.

So here we are.
A clown, an old white dude, and a harpy walk into a bar…
God help us.

Remember, remember, that day in November.

 

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