Melbourne Mitch

I tried yesterday. Really, honestly, I tried to listen to the Donald's B-Team shyster squad present their defense in the impeachment trial. I think I lasted less than a minute during which I began counting the lies and lost interest after hearing a handful of whoppers. It just wears you out having to listen to a steady stream of fabrications, half-truths and baldfaced lies. Such is their mendacity that anyone with so much as a handful of functioning brain cells can quickly see right through the funky, chunky, nutty piles of pungent BS.

But there are some embrace this bovine fecal fest and with such zeal that they happily dive in headfirst, rolling around in the filth, kicking their little stubby legs for joy. Enter the bottom feeder reptile indigenous to the bluegrass state, the Walleyed Naugahyde-back  turtle, aka Mitch McConnell. As if turning the U.S. judiciary into the Augean stables weren't enough - no, when you have the power to trash and sully one branch of the U.S. government, why stop there?

Better to try to go for the trifecta: prop up the crotch grabber-in-chief by shamelessly pandering to his every impulse, however damaging to the public good. Executive branch, check. Next turn what was once considered the world's greatest deliberative body into a kangaroo court, denying any semblance of a fair just proceeding during the impeachment trial of the Donald. Legislative branch, check and G'day, mate!

Gotta give Melbourne Mitch, props though. He has shown great solidarity for the suffering, smoldering marsupials Down Under by stocking the Senate with the same. News reports said that nearly one billion such animals died while the Outback transformed into a continental inferno. Not to worry. Thanks to Melbourne Mitch, there will always be plenty of 'Roos thriving on Capitol Hill, bouncing from one session of institutional take down to the next, leaving democratic devastation in their wake.

What are the natural predators of Republi-roos? Demo-dingoes.

Demo-dingoes ate my baby (Trump).

A Banner Year for a Banana Republic

According to my watch, we have a little over 7 hours left in 2019 and then we wrap up this decade and leap into the next. What a decade it was, the teens. The Republican Party gave up whatever pretense it might of still had of wanting to govern in the public interest, going all in with the social Darwinistic libertarian strand of plutocracy, initially championed by the Koch Brother-financed teabagger "movement" and perfected by the White Power-fueled Trump administration.

The Democratic Party responded by clearing its throat, putting on its most serious expression, and anointing itself as the adult in the room of the U.S. polity, sanctimoniously declaring that it was the true guardian of all that was good and holy in America's political norms and institutions. Yes, if we were just to rewind the tape to January 19, 2016, then all would be restored to sanity, normalcy and decency. No need for any major reforms of our socioeconomic or political systems; their fundamentals were sound. In its mindless worship of status quo-reinforcing incrementalism, the party of FDR, JFK and LBJ chose instead to elevate insider baseball as its M.O. Go small or go consult.

Still, I'll reserve the majority of my ire for the GOP, which replaced its credo of small government, unfettered markets and a "robust" foreign policy with unbridled racial hatred and cruelty towards all but white Christian males. Finally, in American public policy, both foreign and domestic, duty bearers' word matched their deed. It has been an almost refreshing break from the hypocrisy that characterized the bipartisan agreement for the past 50 years to, depending on which party was in power, make either feeble attempts at mitigating or blustery pushes at enabling systemic racism, economic exploitation and global militarism.

Now, thanks to the GOP and President Donald J. Trump we're getting American exceptionalism unfiltered, unplugged and unhinged. And, by chance, and there appears to be a good one, should Trump be re-elected, then this new year and decade will truly herald the end of the American experiment in representative democracy and its all too predictable return to its white supremacist roots and foundational principles.

Happy New Year, let's hope its a better one than 2019.

Middle Child Meltdown

This past week, three senior U.S. foreign service officers, all of whom had dedicated multiple decades to public service, testified before the House Intelligence Committee as the impeachment process entered its public phase. Not surprisingly, the one who most got under the orange skin of Cheeto Jesus was a woman. Ambassador Maria Yovanovitch who the U.S. Ambassador to Ukraine when the Donald and his fixer, Rudy "Clown Car Chaser" Guliani, decided to commit a few high jinx and muffled screamers.

His Rudeness, slithering through "diplomatic" back channels, would bring the full weight of the U.S. presidency onto the new Ukrainian president, Volodymyr Zelensky unless he publicly announced an investigation of Hunter and Joe Biden AND pursued the cockamamie, debunked conspiracy theory that it was Ukraine, and not Russia that interfered in the 2016 U.S. election. Were he to fail to do so then the U.S. would renege on its commitment to provide $400 million in military aid. It had all the hallmarks of the kind of scheme only the very best people with the biggest brains could pull off.

First, Rudicchio unleashed a slime campaign on Ambassador Yovanovtich. He eventually got U.S. Secretary of State, Mikey "Two Helpings" Pompeo, to curtail her tour. With her undermined and eventually out of the picture, Rudy, playing Moe to the other Three Stooges - Larry (Rick Perry), Curly (Gordon Sondland), and Shepp (Kurt Volker), went into overdrive to execute the Trump administration's extortion scheme. Not surprisingly, as we learn more, it's quickly become apparent that "only the very best people" managed to bungle their criminal scheme, practically handing, gift wrapped, to the Democrats all that they needed to make the case for impeachment a slam dunk.

When Ambassador Maria "Masha" Yovanovitch testified yesterday, she brought her A game, demonstrating what a consummate professional she is and how much she represents all that we aspire to be as Americans. Meanwhile little Donnie did what he always does. He plopped his prodigious backside on his gold-plated throne and unleashed a steady stream of sludge, tweeting furiously to further discredit and denigrate Masha, even as she delivered her testimony before the House Intelligence Committee.

The result? The world saw once again just how corrupt and constitutionally unfit Donald Trump is to hold any office besides assistant dog catcher. While Masha persevered and delivered her testimony with grace, determination and precision, Captain Chaos gave us yet another encore performance of "Meltdown of the Middle Child."

It had us all screaming for more, "Masha, Masha, Masha!"

The Sounds of Autumn

This past week, Autumn finally blew into Washington, DC. Temperatures have dropped a bit, the wind has picked up, and we all have had to scrape off the first frost from our windshields. And as the weather has grown cold, so the impeachment proceedings have really begun to hot up. Pretty soon we will be able to view these proceedings live, as the Democrats shift the impeachment to public hearings. No longer will we have to rely on leaks; everything will be broadcast for all to watch the spectacle in all of its...gory, sordid details.

Already a steady stream of administration witnesses have defied the White House's orders to resist Congress's subpoenas and have instead chosen to testify. These men and women of the U.S. civil and foreign service have admiringly chosen to remain true to their oath to the Constitution, putting country before some misguided loyalty to this corrupt regime. And, boy, has this pissed off the GOP and their demented, bloated pet orangutan. Not surprisingly, they have subjected these public servants to all manner of personal attack and smears, even making claims of dual loyalty against a decorated army veteran who earned a Purple Heart for his valor in the battlefield.

In fact, Trump and his merry band of GOP enablers have really had to strain to come up with new defenses for his indefensible behavior. The growing body of evidence collected by Congressional investigators has cut through most of them like a hot knife slices through rancid butter. No matter. The GOP simply goes back to dredge up another bucket of muck and then another and another, all from the mother lode of muck, a deep, thick vein of which seems to run straight through Trump's backside.

Do not despair. Instead just enjoy the brilliant foliage, the crisp air and sweet smell of fall leaves, slowing decaying and preparing the soil for rebirth and growth next spring. Hopefully, by then Trump will be enjoying his swamp-side villa in his new state of residence...under house arrest.

Not So Peachy Keen

My head has been spinning over the past couple of weeks. Ever since Nancy Pelosi finally pulled the trigger and decided to pursue impeachment proceedings, it has been as if the floodgates were opened. New revelations of additional examples of the Trump administration's systematic abuse of power and obstruction of justice have been almost nonstop.

Secretary of State Mike Pompeo, ever obedient to his master, blithely trashed and trampled on the institutional integrity of the diplomatic corps (again) to repurpose U.S. foreign policy to pursue not U.S. national interests but conduct oppo research for the president's 2020 election campaign.

Simultaneously, Tutti frutti Rudy Giuliani plunged, snake-like, into the bottomless muck of Ukraine's oligarch-controlled political netherworld to snake out some filth on Joe Biden, Trump's potential Democratic opponent in 2020, and Hunter Biden, who engaged in a little slimery of his own a few years back, serving on the board of directors of a shady, oligarch-controlled natural gas company.

Not content to live in the wreckage of his past, President Trump commissioned Attorney General William Barr to jettison whatever professional reputation he might have had left to jet around Europe in hopes of discrediting the Mueller Report. Rather than leave this task to the former federal prosecutor whom he had assigned, Barr insisted on taking the lead himself.

Meanwhile, other whistle blowers have begun to come out of the woodwork to corroborate the initial one's 7-page report to the National Intelligence Council's inspector general. That means that the White House will have to ramp up and extend its deny-deflect-trash-and-smear efforts, all the while bulldozing over the rubble of America's norms of governance.

It's all almost like some sort of twisted child's story and, more specifically, like the nightmare beginning of one of my favorite's: Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach. I'll give Speaker Pelosi credit, she's one tough customer, and she'll have to be. You never know what kind of slithery vermin is likely to crawl out of that gargantuan fetid piece of fruit. Although, you don't want to judge an insect by its slimy cover: the many-legged denizens, as in the original story, seem to only want to help Pelosi in her quest to get to the bottom of things and reestablish the rule of law.

Heat-Seeking Missle

I guess we should all be grateful now that John (I am the Walrus) Bolton has been unceremoniously shown the door. True, he was an unrepentant warmonger, always pounding his little fists and flapping his chicken hawk wings, squawking for regime change, nuclear strikes or obliteration of some enemy, real or contrived. But the idea that his departure means that U.S. foreign policy is now safely back in the hands of adults? Well, let me just say that I have some mighty primo real estate to sell you down in Florida.

As many have pointed out, the only real decider in this policy arena is Cheeto Jesus himself, and there have been several pieces written about how his various advisers serve as mere props to legitimize his chaotic, impulse-driven policy making. Still, there are those who have shown themselves to be more adept than others in maneuvering to influence the White House's halfwit enfant terrible.

Mike Pompeo, the Secretary of State, has been one of the few members of Trump's cabinet who has been mentioned as having an almost a preternatural knack for anticipating the president's brain fart du jour. Then, elbowing aside his rivals, he rushes in, like a "heat-seeking missile," straight up into the Donald's backside, all the while mobilizing the foreign policy apparatus to make it happen. He has shown even greater skill in providing intellectually specious bubble gum and tinfoil rationales to prop up the president's numbskullery so that U.S. foreign policy maintains a thin veneer of seriousness.

Before we get too excited, let's not forget that Mike Pompeo is a Koch Brother Muppet. His failing business survived thanks only to their libertarian largess, which also underwrote his election into the U.S. House of Representatives in 2010, the Year of the Teabag. While there, he quickly made his mark by blustering about the nothing burger that was Benghazi and bellowing for U.S. military intervention in Iran. He is an unrepentant hawk who would happily see the U.S. extend its endless, needless global war on fill in the blank. The only thing that has restrained him so far from vocalizing such a vision has been his laser focus on pleasing his master in the Oval Office. I have little doubt, however, that he would push the president to plunge this nation into another dead end military boondoggle were such an opportunity to arise.

So, dry your tears for the man with the toilet brush mustache and start counting the days for when, G-d forbid, Mikey "the Missile" Pompeo finally hits his mark.

I Believe I Can...Puke

Looks like the jig might finally be up for two of the biggest super predators. I'm speaking of serial child rapists R Kelly and Jeffrey Epstein. Both were sexually exploiting and abusing girls in plain sight with only feeble attempts at bringing them to justice and holding them to account for their horrible, vile acts. Both have been protected by their wealth and connections to powerful allies. And, as a result, both have exposed the sheer hypocrisy of these allies, many of whom would otherwise have us all believe what great champions they are on this and other hot button social issues.

Well, not exactly all of them. There is of course, the crotch grabber-in-chief, Donald J. Trump, who has spent most of his adult (child)hood sexually bullying, assaulting and raping women. He has then used his daddy's money to hire a whole pack of shysters do the very same thing to these women again, this time using the legal system instead of his own underperforming member to "schlong" them.

Maybe that's why he decided to nominate Alexander Acosta, the former U.S. attorney, to be Secretary of Labor and ostensibly policy lead of the U.S. Government's anti-(sex) trafficking efforts. It makes perfect sense that Trump would put Acosta in charge after Acosta gave Jeffrey Epstein the sweetheart deal of the century to avoid federal charges of sex trafficking and rape, among others. After a mealy-mouthed defense of his spineless cave to this wealthy scion of the Manhattan "Masters of the Universe," Acosta finally did the right thing and resigned.

I wouldn't be surprised if it were Trump who told him to hit the road, if only because the Donald went on record saying he did the exact opposite. Trump is nothing if not consistent, because he always telegraphs when he's lying. In this case, when he said, "It was him not me," implying that the resignation was entirely Acosta's decision, my antennae immediately went up. Poor Donald. He was probably getting nervous that all this focus on Epstein and his sordid acts might flush out some more of Trump's own heinous history of criminal misogyny. Not that it would matter, since he's gotten away with it pretty much every single time.

Still, one can only hope the this time will be different. With both R Kelly and Jeffrey Epstein potentially being sent up the river to do some quality time behind bars, it would be nice to believe that the public might focus just enough of its attention on these two men's cases. If it does, Americans will realize just how endemic sex trafficking is, right here in the U.S., right in their own neighborhoods in many cases. And maybe, just maybe, they'll also begin to appreciate how these two sociopaths' impunity is only the tip of the iceberg for a justice system characterized by gross, systemic inequities.

I can always believe, anyway. I believe I can...puke.