What the Fuck Did He Say?

The landscape changes, or seems to change, but however radically different it is from the American political playground of, say, 2010 or 1984 or 1958, the primary features we’re looking at haven’t altered substantially in almost ten long years – that is, That Asshat is still dominating the field, if not in poll numbers (but close), then in newsworthiness and edge-of-our-seat doom-thinking about the chances he has in November of using the Electoral College like a teenage whore, again, and managing to take office.

That means we’re in the same box we were in 2015, asking out loud, what the fuck is wrong with these people? By which we mean the 20% or so of us who are dogged Asshat voters, who seem to know as much about how government works as a locust swarm knows about African socioeconomics. Theories abound, for almost ten years running now, but no one’s quite figured it out, despite the fact that these are adult Americans who can talk and, at least nominally, explain themselves. Which of course they fail to do, whenever they’re asked. It defies explanation – unless you accept the fact that they’re all Christian-nationalist bigots, and the priorities they bring to the table therein (fuck brown people, enslave women, etc.) simply make other concerns obsolete. Which might be the case, over all. Is it that simple? We’re America, so maybe so.

But it’s still maddening, from any educated person’s perspective, to have to tolerate the media attempts at “balanced” analysis of Asscrack’s speechifying, as though it weren’t clearly, to anyone paying attention, the burblings of a malevolent crook with a headful of junk-TV ideas, the moral baseline of a swamp animal, and a dizzying proximity to the edge of dementia. Supposedly he doesn’t drink, but he sounds like every Bowery panhandler I’ve ever met.

After the debate, in which Harris sounded like an adult who’d been to school, we still had to suffer media “discussions” about their contrasting “perspectives” on the issues – an approach to Douchebag’s payload that’s not far at all from picking through dog vomit for evidence of the dog’s thoughts on trade deficits. You think there’s something there to think about? C’mon.

The media has to bite the pillow and at least pretend that there’s something there, poking them in the taint but never coming close to find the key slot, and that only supports the nefarious supremacist flag-fucking 20%’s idea that this is a real man, a real public servant, a real electable adult, and not a whining schemer who’ll shake them down like a mob goon given half a chance. Can we please drop the pretense?

Those people – if they’re not seeing and hearing the same evil rhetorical sewer goop I am, what are they seeing and hearing? It’s like trying to imagine what the world looks like to a sloth, or a crocodile. We’d be better off not trying to understand, of course, and maybe give them their own country – cut out the middle between the Rio Grande and the Mississippi, top it off at the Arkansas, call it Dingustan – but then, because they’re self-pitying idiots who can’t pay their fake work pickup truck loans, we’d have to support them with aid like they’re another Ethiopia or Yemen. But their votes would be their curse, not ours.