The Eight Habits of Successful Trumps

My Dear Herr Drumpf .... You may not remember me but my husband, Rinse Plebiscite, introduced us at that meeting where a lot of really important men gathered to learn from you and from what Rinse calls your singular ability to encourage people to agree with you. Rinse's real name might interest you ... it's Rheinhold, though his parents never talked about which Rheinhold they had in mind when they gave him that beautiful WW-II name. I do know that he's been brushing up on his Goethe and Wagner.

I'm not writing to you, though, about Rinse ... he seems to have done quite well for himself and now runs the Good Olde Boyz BoysBand, even though he's barely half the age of the average leader in his group. That's pretty good, right, Mr. D. No. It's about my own kids. that I'm writing. Here we are in an old picture.

God has blessed us with a boy and a girl and I've made certain to lose all my baby weight, as Rheiny told me that it was really important to you that women continue to look like they never had a baby, at all. I told Rinse that it was important that he and our son both grow to be real men .. Broad Shoulders, Big Bellies and Zafta Grosse Tuches. But that I remain teeny-slim but whose " (like Honeybuns in South Pacific) Broad where a Broad Should be Broad. I've been trying to feed him right ... Buckets of KFC, Caine's 999 Pizzas and Fried Hog Bellies. But back to my question:

We're not so worried about our little girl and have already set up a Katie Gibbs fund to get her through school when the time is right. It's the future of any Little Rinses that I worry about ... y'know ... das kleine schpritzer and any schpritzes that come along, later. So, please, help me know how best to raise my son so that he grows up to be a lot like you. I did write a letter  to Susan Shlafly but it was returned. Oops!

Where's our Guiding Star for Women?

Thanking you in advance for any assistance you might give me, I remain your admiring fan ... 

Mrs. S. Plebescite



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My Dear S. ... Your letter, itself, is a good start. You've come to not only the right place but the only place to get this question answered. I know more about raising children -- sons and daughters -- than all the Psychologists ...So, even before I begin ... before I say another word ... really important ... before I begin: "Don't listen to any of the Elite experts. They are responsible for all the weaknesses and faults and sissinesses in our sons, particularly, and they make our daughters grow up to be shrill, fat, flat-chested and ugly women who look more like Beagles than Beauty Queens. Can you imagine? Some women are fat, flat-chested and ugly." That's important. That's really important.

To your question ... I love to answer questions directly and -- believe me -- I know more about me than anybody and I intend to keep it that way. So, here are eight boy-raising techniques that are most likely to raise a Closer and a Fighter and a Man -- maybe not as rich as me but -- Richer than my Father ... and Richer than your Husband, too ... a lot richer than Rinse. Rinse has become a good and fair man but Men with names like Rinse or Schpritz can never rise to Real Menhood with a name like that ... 

Rule 1. Men need to carry a moniker like Hose or Rod or Dick or, of course, Donald. Think of all the great Donalds you know ... starting with me. Don't ... I repeat Don't ... Don't ever let your son think his name is Rinse, Jr. Try calling him Hose'emDown-Don (long names with lots of initials do the trick).  My Dad used to tell me every morning: Hose'em Down, Don and then he'd chuckle. So, that's Rule 1. and really important. 

Rule 2. From an early age, teach your son what to call little girls. The Little Guy must come to realize that being a Guy has power. Calling your sister, Sis, is for Sissies. That Dokteur from Vienna said that boys need to have pride in their penises ... Phallic Narcissism, he called it. 

What help most  are two things:

Teach your little guy that he has the biggest penis since Alex Phallics, the First Prince of the Weimar Republik and no other man's is as big. To settle the matter, tutor him in calling his boy playmates by endearing names like ... Little, Lyin', Crooked, Wee-Wee-Macher and Phyllis.  He's gotta learn early how to make other guys feel small.

Let his first words be endearing words about pretty little girls who agree with him and make certain he calls  any girl who doesn't agree with him either Dog-Face or Fat-Ass. That'll fill him with Self-Esteem and even the Tree-Huggers will tell you: that's important.

Rule 3. As you already know, diet is very important. Keep up the KFC and make certain that the chickens are genetically modified so as to make them Finger-Lickin'-Good ... which brings me to his fingers and how he eats.

Rule 4. Maybe you've noticed how I articulate words very carefully by rounding my mouth. The Pursed and Round Mouth are hypnotic. Little Rinse is likely to sometimes say things imperfectly but if he holds his mouth "just so" people will watch his mouth and not hear the occasional malapropism. Now my parents (don't let him call you Mom unless you want to raise a Sissy) trained me to keep my mouth rounded by having me suck on -- initially -- Hebrew National Hot Dogs and only then to move up to Bratwurst. It's the Bratwurst that really did it for me and I've tried my best to get my Lady Surrogates to do that mouth thing but a lot of them don't have it in them. Jeb was really bad at it. I had hopes for Little Marco, but he failed me, too. Now, Kristie Kreme, Rudolph the Red Nosed Mayor  and Neuro-Ben? They got the hang of it and it's like Bicycle Riding ... They never forget how to get their lips, once they learn.

Rule 5. Hit the Little Brat every time he tells the truth. Lies will set him free from keeping it real. People don't want a Real Man to Keep it Real. I hear some people think they can get me on the School or Taxes or Illegal Business in Havana or Shooting Someone on 5th Avenue ... Don't let him believe that he can be caught in lies. To the contrary, support every one of his lies and hire some Dog-Faces and Fat-Pigs to swear on all that is sacred that the lie is true. And don't let him believe it's not. Get Preacher Mike whose got the mouth thing down to a religion (some call him Reverend Bratwurst) to swear that he heard God say that it was true.

Rule 6. This is the most important and training should begin by six years of age. Any time, your son gets caught doing something, you deny it and have him deny it. You have to deny it and say: "No, I know it was Billy down the street who did it. I know for sure. Believe your Mom and Dad ... You didn't do it." If he gets sloppy about it and forgets to blame somebody else, remind him that in the Old Testament, everyone was smart enough to deny any involvement in matters of sin until Ch. 37 of Genesis and that had to do with paying a hooker.  Tell'em that guy was Judah and no one named Judah ever got to be CEO or ROTU (Ruler of the Universe). Buy him a Big Leather Chair, too.

Rule 7. Really important, too. Tell him that he's really the Center of the Universe and prove it to him. Have him go around and listen ... 

Where do all the sounds go? To his ears;

Where are all visions coming? To his eyes;

Where are all smells going? To his nose;

Who can taste that Bratwurst while it's in his mouth? Only him; and

When he puts his hand in his pants who can feel? Well ... we don't have to go there, do we.

Rule 8. Never let Little Guy admit to hurting anyone else. Only wussies admit to hurting other people. He can either blame Billy-down-the-Street or just deny that it ever occurred. This may be the most important skill for a man to learn. Get him his own Doctor (particuklarly a Derm for any Rosacea) and his own Team of Lawyers, before he's seven and send him to Military Akademy by 10. Repeat for him: 

I always follow the law and smartly! 

Talk to my Lawyers. 

Just talk to my lawyers. 

I don't talk about that, anymore.
Talk to my lawyers!

He'll grow up just-so, if you do. Just with these first 8 rules of childhood pedagogy, you'll get a Good Ole Little Rich Kid who believes that everything he says has an implicit importance just because of all that Self-Esteem ... Ain't nothin' like Self-Esteem and a Bucket of KFC:

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There is a Rule 9 but it's a secret. When I was young, it was before the Polio Vaccines and every block and just about every class had a cripple in it ... short arm? short leg? Since then -- I don't wanna say it's too bad but it kinda is -- it's harder to find people to make fun of. Maybe you could bring your son to a place for multiply handicapped kids ... Nah! When others go low, I go high!

Happy to help ... D. J. Drumpf, President

     

The Party's Over ... Water Controversy Spills Over

(Disclaimer: Jest jesting, Komrades ... jest a leetle sarcasm)

TRUMP NEWS

I. Luvuov (New York): Coloring Kellyanne has once again triumphed in her report on Mr. Trump's thrashing of  Crooked Hillary. When Katy on Tour asked her about the buzz that Mr. Trump had his pants shortened by Secretary Clinton, Ms. Conway explained:

"My Dear Katy ... There can be no doubt that Mr. Trump can hold his water for the full 90 minutes.  He demonstrated that, last night, in front of the largest audience that has ever watched a man hold that much water. You do remember -- as all America does -- that Secretary Clinton couldn't get back to the Primary Stage on time from her Potty-Break. How could she possibly hold it in long enough to lead the Joint Chiefs. Mr. Trump is expected to issue a commemorative  bottle of Trump Water on the day of his ascendancy ... err ... innauguration. This bottling will be available for only two days and will cost $39.99 for two liters (enough to get Godzilla to pee) and Mr. Trump will waive the Sales Tax as his first Presidential Order."

When Ms. LaTour quietly asked a second question about the scene caught on film at the cars wondering if Mr. Trump's wringing of his hands had anything to do with choosing a restaurant for the afterparty that had a bathroom and that was less than two minutes away (this had been reported by a lip reader on CNN), Cunning Conway  responded with her favorite:

"You'll have to ask Mr. Trump about that. But I do personally think  ... that I may well have heard ... that Mark Cuban said something ... about his wishing that Madame Secretary could've demonstrated that same capacity to hold her drink if she's really serious about ascending to the throne."

NEW YORK TIMES

Igor Glovesoff (New York): While Mrs. Clinton apprised herself well in last night's debate, controversy arose concerning her reserved demeanor. Bad-Ass Bannon wanted to know what it would be like to have a President who couldn't effectively tell off Vlad the Impaler in coito, that is, as he was screwing the USA's digital infrastructure in his typical thugly fashion. "Go, Vlad!" As BA Bannon continued, he carefully chose his words with this Times reporter. 

"Mrs. Clinton had her chance and just like with First-Strike Nukes, if a President can't get it out quickly, the American people are gonna be toast. I mean it; she had her chance on the Tax issue. When Mr. Trump did a Rook-to-Queen-7 and declared Checkmate with "When my audit is complete and you show me yours (30,000 emails), I'll show you mine (my Big Fat ... errr .. Tax Returns), Mr. Putin woulda in strength and not from behind (Mr. P. never does it from behind) responded: Vell, Komrade Hills .... y'should sed ... Vhen you show us your BF Tax Returns, da Kremlin vould let you run for Prezident of Politburo. Vhat ist she? still a yokel from the Buro of Scranton, PA vhich I vill take over as soon as Krimea settles down?"


In the Meantime, the New York Post concluded that the Nation was equally divided between those who believe the Scoring of the Thrilla from Hofstra was best scored by the Trump News and its focus on Holding-It-In or by The New York Times that focused on whether  Mrs. Clinton could Get-It-Out. Indeed, 97 Million people were waiting for the report from the authoritative also-Russian staff at the:

NEW YORK POST

Anon E. Maus (New York):  While the Post Editorial Staff is aware of the pressing need for clarity from last night's debate in the neck-and-neck battle of the Titans, it has concluded from reliable sources that the election hinges on the controversy about Melania the Beautiful. Our staff was first to break the news that Melania would be the healthiest looking (well, each of you knows what we mean by "looking" ... "It's a question of stamina") First Lady in the History of Our Democracy.  We know that Abigail Adams and Bess Truman, that Barbara Bush and even Michelle Obama were all lacking in the transparency that the American Public demands from the dudes and dudettes among the Washington Elite who have so thoroughly embarrassed our Country. One of the staffers who only eats the biblically mandated quadripedals with cloven hooves, who also chew their cuds (the one who Chaiffetz was heard maybe saying: He could be a Muslim!), pointed out that all these First Ladies were like pigs who put their cloven feet out for inspection but kept their mouths shut so you wouldn't know they didn't chew their cuds ... or give you the idea that they could chew on anything else.

In the meantime, there was some question as to whether it was Carville or Cuban, Castro or the Secret Service, or maybe someone from The Hawaii Ledger who gave Milania the code-name HRT ... The investigative reporters at the Post have yet been unsuccessful in determining what three letter phrase HRT abbreviated.  Hallie Jackson who won a spelling bee in her senior year of High School in 2008 ruled out Hormone Replacement Therapy as unlikely and was heard opining: "Spelling matters!" We heard somewhere reliable that it has something to do with Mr. Trump getting over his long young adult years at Studio 54. We're still workin' on that one, Folks.Get back to you before we see Mr. Trump's Taxes.

*******************************************************************************

OK, OK ... I'm being silly. But putting Secretary Clinton on stage with a 70 year old who is somehow going to become informed about how to run a Country in a moment-in-time when the World is at or near the abyss, as if he were General Contractor on a tall building in Dubai is pure lunacy.

Speaking from experience, like Hillary Clinton, I know what I know ... She wasn't my first choice but this is no time to be picky. Dammit. She knows her stuff. Hiring Anna to return from Siam for a 70 year old Little Rich Kid Prince (or Old Man Me, for that matter) who at this age demonstrably knows little but who has come to believe that he knows more about everything than anyone and that whatever comes out of him is Golden and beyond criticism ... Oy and  

Hey! Gather ye Lemmings and March On!!!

Someone claimed that Drumpf surrogate, Kristie Kreme was heard saying: "The galling bitch had the nerve to prepare for 40 years for a job? Can'ya'imagine?"

Chilling, isn't it ... 

Mourning

King David sinned. Nathan the Prophet chided him and explained that for this not he but the child born of that sin would die. A curious theology, at best. Life's stumblings have their consequences. I just read a posting by Rev. Mike Huckabee, in which extols the virtues of this Trump-Man Who Would Be King. What times they are ... these times in which we live.

Camelot? No More! Run for Your Lives

Saw a film about difference, today ... Out of Cordoba ... film on the 12th C. period in Spain when the three Abrahimic religions lived together ... made me tearful ... most of what I listen to today is polluted by the nastiness of the Mean Clown!

But what made my eyes warm. Hard to say but clearly had something to do with the elections. It occurred to me after the airing when I asked the Director: 

"Could you help me with my pessimistic feelings. I found myself thinking that you (the Director, Jacob Bender) were determined to demonstrate that in Cordoba, later in Venice, and I would think in other places, too, like Pisa ... in all those places at moments in history folk lived together. That is, you've demonstrated that it's possible. Still, in each of these situations, someone comes along with a political agenda and USES difference as a means of gaining power."

As I've found myself considering throughout this election cycle, I have no reason to disbelieve the Little Trumpets when they say that their Father doesn't have a racist bone in his body. And when the Christians expelled the Muslims and Jews from large parts of Spain, I have no reason to believe -- in general -- that these expulsions were related to bigotry. "I hate these people, so they must leave." 

No, I suspect it's, as I've said before, much worse than that. I suspect that these expulsions -- or in Drumpf's case his misogynous comments and his anti-Muslim and Mexican comments (whether they're his sentiments or not) -- are based in nothing else than utilitarian necessity. 

The persona that Donald puts forward knows no such dichotomous categories ... Muslim-Christian ... Jew-Christian ... White-Black ... Russian-American .... perhaps, not even Rich-Poor. No. The only consistent binary category is "With Me" or "Agin Me." And here, while people who actually experience life this way are deemed by the Psychotherapists as struggling with Borderline and/or Narcissistic Personality Disorders, it matters little whether Mr. Trump suffers from these developmental disorders or simply presents himself as such a person -- except that the latter is likely indicative of a more dangerous kind of despot!

The very idea that America would elect itself a President who will accept his enemies as long as they succumb ... that he would put Krispy Kreme Kristie who mercilessly attacked him during the RNC Primary in charge of putting together a government simply because he's relenting to his power ... all this is far worse that even electing a Birchist who actually believes that his type is superior to another's ... and that makes me sad ... profoundly sad.

This American experiment has worked progressively well for 240 years. For that many years, we've worked to refine a system in which difference is not to be used in a utilitarian fashion ... purely, to achieve power. It's sad, also, that so many have been mesmerized by him. They have been scammed so much that they fail to see the paradox in fighting -- to the end -- to preserve the 2nd Ammendment to the Constitution -- all the time willing to abridge the Bill of Rights.

Many have pointed out that the Founding Fathers who ratified the 2nd Ammendment were authorizing the posession of single-load non-repeater rifles and had no idea that their Amendment would be perverted to include high-count-magazine repeaters ... and maybe RPG's.

I was saddened by the film and the obvious recognition that experiments such as Cordoba in the 12th C. or Venice in the 14th ot the United States in the 18th were ... ephemeral moments in time ... always at the risk of despots and ego-maniacal folk who maybe had never known love ... but certainly who were not skilled in doing more than speaking about love to others.

Sad, indeed.

What's Good for the Ham!

He was a Good, if Hammy, Hamster.
He had a strong look and Good Hair.
He had especially Good Hair
and Fine Pursed Lips.

Ach du Lieber! What's Good for the Ham is Good for the Hamster

Truth be told: I don't have Good Hair. Indeed, I've of late found it inaccurate to use the collective noun "hair" and have begun speaking of "my hairs," instead. Life is about making adjustments and betimes accepting that other men's mop-tops are thicker and more elegant than mine but it's also about recognizing the slings and arrows shot off against others and experiencing quintessentially-human guilt. Catholic Guilt, Italian Guilt, Jewish Guilt or Upper-Middle-Class Gilded Guilt. I suppose they're all pretty much comparable. 

Mea Maxima Culpa. I've been shooting off my mouth against another human. To be specific: I've called Donald J. Trump of zip-code 10022 on Fifth Avenue all kinds of names.

I've reverted to calling him by the German form: Drumpf or Herr Drumpf!

I think I once called him Herr-less Drumpf and Drumpfenkopf and even Drunkenkopf!

I've borrowed Elizabeth Warren's: Little Orange Man!

In a dream, I cast him as a White and Mushy-Fleshed Pillsbury Dough Boy!

I've referred to him as Donnie, Don, and Donnie-Boy!

I've posted images of him inter alia:  

as the Grim and Nasty-Mean Clown! (actually, me)

as an empty headed caricature of a man!

as an inflated phallus!

as a little oedipal lothario!

as a patient saying: aaaah!

as a repeatedly self-destructive Charlie Brown!

as Heston Moe Cheston!

and  even as a surrogate in drag!

see the great hair!

I should be, I suppose, ashamed of myself ... but I don't feel shame and only some residual guilt. I am a Citizen Therapist, even if the Web-Meister of that group of therapists excommunicated me for my angry humor that he felt ran counter to the Goldwater Rule which speaks against the diagnosing of public figures without meeting with them and/or without informed consent by that public person.

This blog? It will continue Deo Volente until the election. Mr. Trump has, for the past year, presented a persona ... cavalier, reckless, divisive and mean-spirited. Nazi-Schmazi is here to mirror that kind of persona ... to paraphrase Drumphenkopf: Nazi-Schmazi just counterpunches.

In the end, I am not the Be-All-End-All of anything. I am a therapist who feels bound by my Mandate to Report possible damage to others that comes to my attention. I do not proffer a diagnosis for the Mean and Angry Clown Persona that Little Donnie presents to the World. Frankly, I don't care.

By your deeds will ye be judged!

As I've noted before, Leviticus 19 makes it quite clear that one must balance the prohibition against loose-lipped gossip with the need to protect your neighbors from harm. In the same spirit, the journalist must balance journalistic neutrality against the duties that fall uponthe Fourth Estate and the difficult task citizens and police, alike, need to juggle the citizen's right to be free from Illegal Search and Seizure and the safety of the Citizenry.

You want it simple, 

follow the smells that waft into your nose and guide your life 

as an instinct-driven Ham or Hamster.

Kornacki! ... Playing "Chicken" with the World?

"For the Record, Sweetie

and Bugga-bugga ....

I don't think you answered 

one of my FFFFFFine questions."

- - A collaboration by two old men ... 

Howard Covitz and Hal Brown

"Hey, Folks. It's Me. Steve-ee!
Guess what? Hillary Clinton has outspent  Donald Trump ... 5:1.
Hi-Ho ... Whole new World.
Adverts don't carry the day, anymore!"

Lemme first make a public confession: I'm envious of the crew of articulate and young folk who have grown up in the recent crops of journalists.

From the Halls of Montezuma to the Queen of MSNBC (the brilliant Rachel) ... from Chris the Younger Hayes (Chris Matthews interrupts a bit much for my envy), Ezra the Direct Klein, Ari Mellow-Man Melber, Toure the Elegant and his Friend the Krystal Ball (where did she go?), to the poised ladies who've followed around the candidates ... Katy Tur, Kasie Hunt, Kristen Welker (who went to the same school as some of my grandkids -- Go, Kristen) and Hallie Jackson ... and all those smart youngsters that this Old Man forgot. And, yes, I even envy Megyn Kelly from the Dark Side. Brave and Bright ... Able and Articulate. How  I'd welcome their presence at dinners and how I envy their youth and their quick-thinking! The older folk (older, my aging butt!) like Carol Costello, Don Lemon, Anderson Cooper, Halpern & Heilman, and Joy Reid? I envy them, too, but not as much as the 30-40 crop (if I've prematurely aged anyone ... sorry). They're really cool ... and smart! I'll talk some other time about the Wild Ones, like the Coulter Gang from Foxxy Gulch! 

And then there's Steve Kornacki ... the smiling, fast-talking guy at the Smart-Board. Little Stevie, always young and now talking slow enough for my receding prefrontal-cortex to follow his (sometime even Rachie's) arguments, the guy who takes us through all the paths to 270 that Sec'y Clinton or Herr Drumpf might follow in their ascent to the Presidency. I like these people ... I really do. The whole lot ... Their ability to recall ... that I only recall ... in myself ... ....  to their perspicacity. Sheeesh! They're great.

So, I do hope that Mr. Kornacki will hear the following as a warm critique of his calculations by an admiring and ardent fan.

Dear Stevie ... WTF? ... How could you possibly report 

that Clinton+PACS outspent Drumpf+PACS ... 5:1?

How misleading!

How obfuscating, indeed, without a report of how much free air-time

was given by MSNBC (and other media outlets) to the Donnie.

I don't have calculations, Mr. Steve, but my subjective

sense is that youse Guys gave Trump as much air-time as

all the Noble Republic-Men and -Women and Hillary, 

Bernie, Lincoln and Brother Martin were given, together.

So much, indeed, has been lopsided by this Prez Election season that your surprise at this result and your claim that we may no longer be acting rationally if we value electoral strength by the $volume of candidates' coffers is disturbing. It makes it appear as if Herr Drunkenkopf had a natural appeal that didn't require TV ads ... ~ "Young Donnie just had this raw appeal ... that's all he needed!"

So Stevie and Friends ... 

I think you are glorious examples 

of a new crop of top-notch journalists. 

But you guys did create and encourage this Presidential Grotesquerie. 

Take responsibility for it! Stand up! 

Dammit ... join Ezra Klein der Jung and Dan Rather der Alte 

and Dear Departed Walter Cronkite who all -- in their time -- arose off their

Journalistically Neutral Butts and began to speak their minds about 

Clowns Who Would Be King (yeah, yeah! ... Walter woulda ... if he coulda)!

And, please ... do it before it's too late!

This is no time to be Playing Chicken with the World. 

T minus 49!

... and Counting.

***********

Or, else, Bubbilas, you'll be looking at the World you inherit

through you-know-who's Sphinctor Magnum
... you, too, will be doing what Republicans call  ... 'leading from Behind.'

And one more thing while we're ranting and shaking our cane at you youngin's: 

It's High-FFFFine-Time that y'all  feel 

comfy-enough saying to any one of your on-air interviewees

who play footsy with the Truth and tight-as-a-clam's ass with your queries:

"For the Record, Sweet Surrogate

and Bugga-bugga ....

I don't think you answered 

one of my FFFFFFine questions."

Apology ... Long Overdue

Dear Mr. Lewandowski and Mr. Bannon:

By innuendo (if not in-a-you-endo) I began and perpetuated a rumor that you, Mr. L., and/or  you, Mr. B., might be implicated in the Chelsea bombings. I reported having overheard some discussion between two Republican-looking men at a Democrat Picnic that The Donald had the most to gain from a terroristic bombing in New York and, since he was far away spreading his hateful rhetoric, elsewhere, it just could be that you or your minions might have chosen to orchestrate a non-lethal bombing to further the Big Boss's political ambitions.

I feel great shame in admitting that I naively jumped to conclusions and began this perfidious rumor, spreading it like the trails left behind by Ebola sufferers ... spreading it on Facebook, LinkedIn and the Daily Kos. I don't know what to say beyond that:

There is no credible evidence 

to put Mr. Lewandowski or Mr. Bannon 

at the scene of the Chelsea Bombings.

"I'm singing in the rain"

Cory dances, too!

Images of you, Mr. Lewandowski, pulling at the arm of a member of the Media and involved in policing Mr. T's rallies ... and the claims broadly made about you, Mr. Bannon, that you had been engaged in Dirty Tricks in the run-up for the Presidency by President George Herbert Walker Bush ... these had me erroneously thinking that your allegiance to the Scary Clown might have moved you to pull off such a prank. This was especially tempting on the day after Almost Always Agreeable Donnie-Boy apologized like a bully-school-boy in the Principal's office saying "I'm really, really sorry" for looking up some Sally's skirt or for kicking Gordon the Geek while he was on the ground. Let me repeat this: 

There is no credible evidence 

to put Mr. Lewandowski or Mr. Bannon 

at the scene of the Chelsea Bombings.

Now, as to the matter of KellyAnne, was she or wasn't she in the NBC and CNN studios within hours of the bombing? And was it she who in response to questions by Todd and Dickerson take taking a sort of Fifth:

You'll have to ask Mr. Trump about that.

Any case ... If anybody saw
KellyAnne in Chelsea Friday night,
gimme a ring.

Conspiracy! Who Dropped the Bomb?

It was in the height of the killings of WW2 ... 1940 ... that James Thurber penned his very short piece on barnyard gossip, a hitherto unknown method for discrediting others. Here, it is from his Fables for Our Time.

Not so very long ago there was a very fine gander. He was strong and smooth and beautiful and he spent most of his time singing to his wife and children. 

One day somebody who saw him strutting up and down in his yard and singing remarked, "There is a very proper gander." 

An old hen overheard this and told her husband about it that night in the roost. "They said something about propaganda," she said. 

"I have always suspected that," said the rooster, and he went around the barnyard next day telling everybody that the very fine gander was a dangerous bird, more than likely a hawk in gander's clothing.

A small brown hen remembered a time when at a great distance she had seen the gander talking with some hawks in the forest. 

"They were up to no good," she said. A duck remembered that the gander had once told him he did not believe in anything. 

"He said to hell with the flag, too," said the duck. A guinea hen recalled that she had once seen somebody who looked very much like the gander throw something that looked a great deal like a bomb. 

Finally everybody snatched up sticks and stones and descended on the gander's house. He was strutting in his front yard, singing to his children and his wife. 

"There he is!" everybody cried. "Hawk-lover! Unbeliever! Flag-hater! Bomb-thrower!" So they set upon him and drove him out of the country.

Moral: Anybody who you or your wife thinks is going to overthrow the government by violence must be driven out of the country.

"I think he went that-away, Officer."

Now I'm not pointing any fingers at anyone but, at a dem-Dems Picnic today, I think I might've and could've heard two whiggy kind of fellows ... dressed much too good to be Dems whispering about how Gay Mr. Trump must be and how fortunate he was to be at the receiving end of the news 
about the New York Bombings. Now, I couldn't swear to it -- after all they might've been talking about some Gay threesome they thought that Donnie got involved in when he was just a kid and they was pretty far away from me. Still ... Could be! Could it be? Hard to say. Gimme about five years to figure this one out.

But it seems to me that there might be somethin' there. I'm just sayin' and I mean nothin' by it ... but who WOULD have the most to gain by non-lethal bombs goin' off just a mile or so South of Trump Palace. Didn't have to be T-Rump-his-self. Coulda been one of his sir-o-gates ... Coulda even been Robert Gates ... or ... one of dose All-Together-Not-Too-Bright folk ... Maybe it was Bannon or that Epshtein Guy ... he sounds like a Russkie t'me! Y'think he's a Russkie? Like the Moscovite Candidate or somethin.' Remember the Movie? Yeah. That could be it. Yeah! Yeah! Now that you says that ... I mean ... it coulda been, right. Trump? He got the motive and he certainly got the opportunity with all dose people he gave jobs to out of his sense of Good Ole American Sharin' and Sacrifice and who are now beholdin' to him with their vote. Don't wanna go too far. Shhhh! But I might have sources. Tell'ya later.

But if any o'you Red-Blooded Americans know f'sure if any of his'n guys were in Chelsea, last night ... Gimme a ring! and call the Cops, too. Special ... look out for guys who look like this guy:

or this guy.

Especially that Guy. I hear folk have seen him with Mr. Trump, his-self. Now, don't'ya get y'self all hot and bothered ... Mostly jest jestin' here ... I think Drumpf calls it Sarcazm or somethin.' Why would Mr. Trump be dancin' about bombs goin' off in America under President Obama's watch? Y'gotta be kiddin.'

Trump! Spoiled Little Rich Kid? ... Is He a Racist? Wonky Thoughts

Many were asking, yesterday: Is Donald Trump a Racist? I, too, wonder about such matters but can have no comfortable answer. What we get to see about another has to do with a public persona ... Indeed, how I write does, as well. One of the difficulties that I have experienced in online discussions has to do with others gratuitously diagnosing each other (and me) and claiming to be able to discern this or that character pathology from this or that behavior or set of behaviors displayed by that public persona. I try to stay out of those waters.

Example: It would be outrageous to diagnose Colbert from his Hyper-Conservative guy -- or, now that he's left his TV Spot on Colbert Nation -- from his new Late-Night TV persona. Here, as another example, you get me -- as this outrageous character nazi-schmazi --  mirroring, as best I can, Trump's presentation of himself as an unempathic man with extremely poor impulse control who seems to think that giving someone else a job is sacrificing for that other, and who seems pretty regularly to hurt others (that’s some kind of narcissism + problem controlling impulses).  If we knew his motives, we might be able to say more. There’s quite a nice piece from a lifetime ago (maybe late 40’s) by Annie Reich on The Grotesque Comic Sublimation*.  

So, the question for me has more to do with whether or not Trump's followers believe that he ever believed that Obama was not constitutionally-fit to serve as POTUS, due to his not having been born in the United States. Or, maybe it's more straightforward and correct to ask:

Was there a wink and a nod between the apparent claims from many Birthers 

and what those many -- including Trump or the halogram we saw of him -- believed.

And this gets me to the impossible-to answer-questions, like "what is  racism?"

But first, if I may wax Biblical for just another moment  in these blogs? ... Sorry. The Bible is my metaphor and maybe, for some, gets in the way ... but that's from whence I come!

Thou shall not take the name of the Lord in vain!

Over the centuries, this has often-time been taken to mean that one shouldn't utter the word God, except, perhaps in prayer. No Goddammits ... Maybe not even a God Forbid! Right? Some Latinize it and then abbreviate it as D.V. ... Deo Volente. How many times have I seen G-d ... as if, the Deity wouldn't know that that little hyphen is an "o." I'm certain there are people of intellect and unquestionable intent who disagree with me ... but I do disagree.

So, what is it for me ... maybe an example or two will help.

(I) A Clergyman says to one of their flock who has come for guidance: "G-d wants you to have sex with me." Now, that for me is taking the name of God in vain.

(II) Someone else says that "The people of New Orleans are being tortured by the Lord with violent wind and unrelenting rains (fire and brimstone, in the wings, perhaps) for tolerating homosexuality, just like Sodom was punished for its perversions." That's taking the name of the Lord in vain, too, unless one presumes that one can speak in the name of God ... or G-d.

So, the Sin, if you would allow me, is invoking the Deity for personal pleasures or gains. 

So, what about this thing we call racism. "And what's your point, already, Nazi-Schmazi," some may be asking. ... To this end, let me offer an hypothesis:

                Destructive Racism, Ageism, Sexism, Jingoism, etc. -- each is a method by which 
                              one uses difference for one's own personal gain or in order 
                                                   to gratuitously hurt the other.

As I wrote these words yesterday, the Congressional Black Caucus was discussing another of Trump's grandstanding moments, in which he advertised his Greatest and Best Hotel, (ab)used the imprimatur of Medal receiving GI's, and then said that President Obama was born in the United States and that he had -- more or less -- singlehandedly settled this issue that Sen. Clinton began two election cycles,  ago.  O ... K. OK, indeed!  Back to the Black Caucus. Nobody -- in good conscience and to my way of thinking -- would call their pride in their own group or in a President who arose from that group racist, any more, I think than a Church, Mosque or Synagogue that represents a particular faith-subgroup would be called Religionist (except by the likes of the author of Woody Allen's old piece "Reflections of a Second Rate Mind.") We don't condemn an individual for having a healthy dose of pride in viewing the fruits of their own efforts.

So, lemme get back and try, again, to answer -- borrowing from a song  "What is Racism to Me?" ...

                                                Pathological Racism is a method by which 
                                      one uses racial difference for one's own personal gain 
                                                      in spite of potential hurt to another.

"So, Nazi-Schmazi, get to your point, already." I'm trying.

As I see these matters, the Trumplets, the little Trumps, the Surrogates and Herr Drumpf, himself, keep saying that the Candidate doesn't have a racist bone in his body. If by that they mean that Donnie can have friends and even warm relationships with people who are racially different than he? I'm good! I am OK accepting that but I do think it misses the point. A wealthy Sheik who builds hotels with DJT? A black person who doesn't get in Donnie's way or who partners with him? A Mexican-heritage judge who supports Drumph's law-suit? I have very little doubt that Trump would invite such folk into partnerships with him or into his home or to share his Bucket of KFC. He seems to be quite comfortable, for instance, having a Jewish Daughter and Son-in-Law. In my mind, I think he may well have been thrilled if Ivanka had brought home the Young Barak Obama. Harvard! Good future!Who could ask for more?

No - no. Trump, as far as I can tell, uses difference only in adversarial situations and only  to gain the upper hand. I have no belief that Trump harbors hatred towards others -- similar OR different -- more than I believe that his public persona has known much love.  What's the lyric in Brigadoon? 

I saw a man who had never known

A love that was all his own.

I looked as I thanked

All the Stars in the Sky ...

"There but for you, go I."

So, yes, his kids who may well love him and say that Dad has not a racist bone to be found ... may well be correct. To say it differently: it may well be true in that the only difference Herr Drumpf seems to know is:

"Are'ya ... For me ... or ... Agin me? 

I love everybody who who accepts my greatness.

I use difference or any other means to destroy those who oppose me." 

My own sense is that ... No ... very few folk actually believed President Obama to be the Kenyan Candidate!

This is The Way of the Bully: 

Make the accusation, repeat it and repeat it again 

until the crowd surrounding the other says they believe it, too. 

Then drive that Scapegoat over the Cliff and stone it. 

A tragedy that is all too common, maybe, particularly among a percentage of those raised with wealth and others believing in their entitled status or those who come along for the shared power that the bully's circle provides. For the Bully, himself, convinced that every word he expresses must be special, he  grows up tragically believing in his powers and speaking words, as if they must be true and of great value.

So where does racism fit in these scenarios? Wherever self interest uses racial difference and objectification of the Other (taking away that Other's sense of themselves as valuable Subjects in Their Own Right), I feel comfortable using the terms racist/racism.** The salient question is not whether one has pride or even a sense of value  -- even excessive value, perhaps -- in one's own group. The Black Caucus has every right to be proud. The issue, rather, is whether someone uses the limiting of the other, not out of disdain or even necessarily to harm, but for the purpose of personal gain in spite of harm to the other.**

*******************

Aside 1. I think I write to modulate the tears that well up in my eyes thinking of the damage done to all who grow up this way and of the damage they, in turn, may well cause.

********************

Aside 2. I was impressed for the first time by the Media who came out, in strength, today, saying clearly that Trump's claims and his grandstanding were bullshit.*** Lord ... May it continue that the Fourth Estate resurrect itself from its sometimes comatose journalistic neutrality about which I've been raging in these postings.

*I recommend it to the interested ... I think it originally was in the 
Bulletin of the Menninger Clinic  c. 1950. This is, I suspect, not the 
context for discussing such wonkitudes and I do tend to wax wonky, 
even on a good day.

 ** I do know that many have expanded this notion to passive aggressions, 
such as Dominant Race Privilege. This has arisen with the writings of many Post- 
and Post-post-Modernists. I'm confident that others will talk about these matters
and leave it to them to appropriately expand on these limited views. 

*** FTR ... Bullshit is not a technical or diagnostic term but quite evocative, nonetheless.