Oct. 27, 2019
Yesterday being Saturday morning, I was, as usual, mucking out Hubris’ corral and also, as usual, Hubris was following along behind me making smart aleck comments about my raking and shoveling ability. I’m not as young as I used to be and my back was beginning to hurt a bit from the bending and lifting, so, when Hubris said, with a little snicker-whinny in his voice, “Aren’t you glad you don’t have to shovel up all the crap that’s hitting the floor in our President’s oval office?” I turned to him and said, “The difference between your crap and our Presidents crap is that yours is good for the flowers and his kills people! Washington doesn’t have a shovel or a wheel barrow big enough to pick up his and you should be glad I’m still willing and able to pick up yours!” Silence followed the wheelbarrow, and me, out of the corral.
I don’t usually drink anything but coffee, tea or V8 juice in the morning but Hubris’ question caused me to head for my little bar off the dining room and crack the seal on a bottle of Uncle Jack’s finest and take a good gulp— just to calm my nerves. We don’t have a ‘man’ in the oval office, we have a simple minded, egotistical, mentally deficient, rotten-spoiled, child. He is a totally corrupt, morally bankrupt, hate-filled monomaniac, running and ruining our country with every totally self-serving decision he makes. I find it hard to believe Trump has so many of the Republican members of our Congress still willing not only to support him but looking and sounding like utter fools when trying to justify his decisions. When the Trump ship sinks, and I now expect it will sink much sooner than later, it will take a whole bunch of syncopates down with it. Remember, a cornered rat is a very vicious animal. Watching and listening to Donald Trump these last few weeks I see a big orange-blond haired rat with a big red tie shouting obscenities at all of the perceived enemies around him. Be careful Mitch, Rudy, Lindsay and William. Rats are known to eat their own family members first, rather than starve for food, wealth or attention. If Trump goes down, I expect he will take them all down with him.
Then, as the gulp of Uncle Jack’s breakfast enhancer kicked in, I had another visionary idea. Just imagine Donald Trump putting (rather than throwing them under the bus) William Barr, Rudy Giuliani, Mitch McConnell and Lindsay Graham into great big, vinegar filled pot and its’ mechanical lid slams down before any of them can say ‘Hail Donald!’ Then, he calls the pilot of his presidential helicopter to lift the pot onto a really BIG stove and there it sits to boil for about six hours. He stirs the pot every half hour or so using an old wooden canoe paddle while standing on the top of his Executive Ford 1500 gold-plated pick-up which his secret service protectors parked next to the stove for him. He has Jared add about 50 lbs. of salt and Baron puts in 5 lbs. of white pepper (sorry, those guys didn’t like anything ‘black’) and Don Jr. throws a hay bale sized ‘flake’ of Italian parsley—in honor of Rudy—into the pot. (He wouldn’t even think of having anyone add Mexican oregano!) As the mixture cools, he skims off the fat and removes the bones. He has just made his first batch of Trump Republican Soup! Every Republican congress-person gets a big bowl of his soup and six white, saltines (crackers) for lunch just before the vote on whether or not to impeach him is taken. Every Republican congress-person not wanting to be in the next batch of Trump Soup votes ‘No’. His key supporters have served him well. Trump Soup is served at the 2020 inauguration dinner. When someone asked Vice president Mike Pence how he didn’t get to be a part of the soup he patted his heart and said, “Trump wanted someone he trusted saying the prayers at his inauguration dinner party.” ‘Trump Soup’ is on the Mar-a-Lago lunch and dinner menu for weeks thereafter but regulars notice it now has a different taste—more like mulled wine than sour grapes.
It took only a few seconds until I snapped out of my little fantasy daydream but I did continue to think about what will happen to the key Trump ‘enablers’ on which my ‘Trump Soup’ fantasy was based. I believe the element of ‘perceived survival’ will be the determining factor. Let’s consider the key players one at a time:
Trump is a liar, thief, coward, con-artist, tax-cheat, and draft-dodger but he is also a proven monomaniac and that’s the main characteristic that keeps him being a ‘survivor’. He only thinks of his self-interest. So, if Rudy and his nefarious friends go to jail— that’s their problem— not his. If Mitch or Lindsay loses their seat in the Senate, that’s their problem— not his. If Bill makes one ruling against his interests, Bill will not be the Attorney General for one minute longer. But, if Trump thinks that his personal wealth (let’s call it the ‘Trump Empire’, he will love that!) is in danger, he is going to do any and everything possible to escape that danger. At this point, Trump is waiting for the winds of public opinion, not laws or the Constitution, to determine the direction he will have to take to protect his fragile ‘wealth’.
McConnell is a politician in all of the most derogatory elements of that label. Mitch has no moral or ethical character. He only wants to keep his Senate seat and position as Majority Leader. He will do whatever public opinion ‘tells’ him he must do to keep that position and power.
Graham is the same kind of politician but with the ethics of the old South, filled with the pursuit of white supremacy and the hatred of minorities. However, he is, like Mitch, a politician first and a professional hater second. Fortunately for him, his electoral base shares his ‘ethics’, or lack thereof.
Barr is just a gut-less fool, willing to do anything and everything he can to satisfy his provider— Donald Trump. As Donald goes, so goes Bill. The answer my friends, is blowing in the wind— and the winds are public opinion, not our laws or our Constitution. Friends, stay awake— and watch the wind-sock! Anything can happen, for the better or the worse, and it could happen fast!
Hubris was in the back corner of the corral and hanging his head as I came out of the kitchen and headed for the barn. Feeling that I might have been a bit harsh with him, I picked an apple off the first tree in our little orchard and called to him as I reached the near side of the corral. Hubris lifted his head and turned to look at me. When he saw the apple he gave a little whinny of excitement and trotted over to meet me at the corral fence. If only solving problems with people was as easy as it is with horses— life would be a piece of cake!
Copyright, October 27, 2019, Louis J. Christen