There’s something the president has been saying repeatedly lately that probably shouldn’t be allowed to pass without challenge, like most of his insane utterances. (It amazes me sometimes how much this reminds me of the Reagan years, when old right-wing Ronny used to say truly bizarre things and journalists would just wanly shrug and move on.) He keeps claiming that, in responding to COVID-19, he saved millions of lives. The claim goes something like this: If I (Trump) had not acted as decisively as I did, more than 2 million people would be dead of COVID. Instead, it’s a measly 140,000. Aren’t I a hero, then?
I wish I were making this up, but you’ve heard it, I’m sure. I’m beginning to understand why Trump is so determined to save all of those Confederate monuments. He must have gotten a bunch of loser trophies when he was a kid. Actually, his entire life has been a series of loser trophies and mulligans, starting with the fortune that was dropped into his lap, his various bankruptcies and failed scams, then being shoe-horned into the presidency via America’s ultimate grandfather clause, the electoral college. And yet through all of this (and much more), he has insisted that he is a big winner, that no one could have done what he did, and so on … and so on. At the same time, he whines incessantly (like so many on the right do) about how unfair life is to him. Poor little Donnie!
This is some grade-school level gaslighting, to be sure. I mean, the man is saying that by doing the bare minimum required of him as president of the United States, he prevented a precipitous, uncontrolled spread of COVID that would have cost millions of lives, and for this he should be thanked. I hate to break it to fat boy, but not engaging in massive criminal negligence does not exactly place you in Medal of Honor territory. Next we’ll be expected to thank him for NOT randomly noodling with the nuclear football and accidentally launching World War III. That saved billions! No, as president, you don’t get rewarded for NOT blowing up the world this week. (That’s pretty much expected of you, Don.)
R.I.P. Michael Brooks. When political commentator and leftist thinker Michael Brooks died unexpectedly this week, I thought of the people I’ve known who left this world far too soon – people who seemingly had a brilliant future ahead of them. Brooks was one of those people, and he will leave an enormous hole. Condolences to his family and his colleagues on the Majority Report, TMBS, and elsewhere. This year is for shit.
luv u,
jp
Super Storm. Hurricane Florence is bearing down on the east coast of the U.S., and is his wont, the President’s first comments centered on, well, himself and the amazing job he did when Hurricane Maria battered Puerto Rico last year. He is flatly denying the veracity of the revised casualty figures that put the death toll from Maria above that of Katrina, saying that the higher numbers were made up by Democrats to make him look bad. I’m betting George W. Bush looks at this with envy and wonders why he never thought of just totally and persistently making shit up about New Orleans.
Now Corker and his colleagues can feign surprise when the bonobo they elected throws feces at them from his perch in the White House. And because the Tennessee Senator has announced his retirement, he can channel his colleagues’ unease when Trump (a) demonstrates he knows nothing about America’s nuclear strategy or the history of that strategy, (b) breezily demands we return to an arsenal of 32,000 warheads, and (c) makes a habit of cryptically threatening to start World War III on the Korean peninsula. The man is a terrorist, plain and simple – hinting that there’s some kind of “storm” coming, teasing some violent response or initiative, then dropping a smirking “you’ll see,” like a petulant four-year-old. Fit for the presidency? The man isn’t even qualified to be dog catcher.