How very pathetic to see the effete editors of the New York Times and others agitate themselves over the news du jour, each day bringing fresh hope the Donald will cross some line which will spell his downfall.
Watch them now, listen to them on NPR, voices rising through the octaves, as they imagine themselves before the House Committee on Oversight, bringing forth the words which will undo the election of 2016! All is not lost.
Those in bred ignoramuses of the Rust Belt, those dull eyed, slack jawed dullards will not have the final word.
We will catch the President in some ultimate faux pax and bring him down!
Sadly, no.
The President is here to stay.
You cannot undo the will of the voters with clever maneuvering or verbal elegance.
You reveal yourselves in this frenetic display of wishful thinking cum righteous indignation. You think you can stir up a groundswell, provoke an earthquake with your adjectives--you are like that king of old who commanded the incoming tide to retreat.
Recall those crimson fields of Trump signs riffling in the breeze from Pennsylvania to Ohio, to Michigan to Wisconsin.
As Mark Shields noted, you could have driven from Maine to California along interstate highways throughout the Rust Belt Mid West and on to the Great Plains, over the great Rocky Mountains and never seen a break in Trump signs.
He won.
We lost.
The banjo boys are now in charge.
Let us now accept we cannot wish the ogre away--we must plan to deal with him.
Watch them now, listen to them on NPR, voices rising through the octaves, as they imagine themselves before the House Committee on Oversight, bringing forth the words which will undo the election of 2016! All is not lost.
Those in bred ignoramuses of the Rust Belt, those dull eyed, slack jawed dullards will not have the final word.
We will catch the President in some ultimate faux pax and bring him down!
Sadly, no.
The President is here to stay.
You cannot undo the will of the voters with clever maneuvering or verbal elegance.
You reveal yourselves in this frenetic display of wishful thinking cum righteous indignation. You think you can stir up a groundswell, provoke an earthquake with your adjectives--you are like that king of old who commanded the incoming tide to retreat.
Recall those crimson fields of Trump signs riffling in the breeze from Pennsylvania to Ohio, to Michigan to Wisconsin.
As Mark Shields noted, you could have driven from Maine to California along interstate highways throughout the Rust Belt Mid West and on to the Great Plains, over the great Rocky Mountains and never seen a break in Trump signs.
He won.
We lost.
The banjo boys are now in charge.
Let us now accept we cannot wish the ogre away--we must plan to deal with him.




































