Ammo Grrrll is not CLOTHING THE EMPEROR. She writes:
In the middle of an unhinged hateful rant about Donald J. Trump AND especially about us, his “cult-like” wretched, stupid followers, Bob Costas let slip on the CNN ‘s Smerconish show that Biden is too old and needs to step aside to avoid losing to President Trump. He actually invoked the Emperor and His New Clothes image in reference to Biden. He seems to feel pretty strongly that President Trump is going to beat the Depends off Biden in November and that is unthinkable enough for Costas to advise Biden to step aside.
The dam has broken. For a long time that dam had many fingers plugging up all obvious holes and calling them “misinformation.” Conservatives who believe “misinformation” are only a stone’s throw from “Deplorability” on their inevitable path to “Insurrection!” There was a solid phalanx of deniers shrieking daily that Biden was fit as a fiddle.
Joe, they swore, was a fine speaker, but sadly cursed with a whimsical stutter that only appeared at certain times. That this was a lie was obvious to all but the lying liars who lie day in and day out for a very lucrative living. Good grief, NO, Joe Biden does not have a “stutter.” I have known several people with stutters and that is not how stuttering manifests itself.
The problem is that Biden’s brain doesn’t work anymore and he cannot reliably finish slurring all the way to the end of a WORD, let alone express a coherent thought. Heck, he cannot even READ a thought. He stops. He freezes. He looks like his last working synapse just burned out in his head. And then he mumbles, “Well, never mind.” Or, “You know the thing.” On at least two occasions that I am aware of, he could not remember Obama’s name and just called him “my boss.” He yells; he whispers; he sees dead people in the audience. He cannot get a quote right that is WRITTEN OUT in front of him.
His advanced dementia is glaringly, nakedly, apparent. But he comes out, shot up with who knows what, and APPEARS to be clothed. And quite nicely at that. Fig leaves have not been in fashion as strategically-placed nudity covers since The Garden of Eden. And so when he’s not skinny dipping in front of the female Secret Service agents, Joe wears fine suits of superior cut. But in reality he is a shambling updated version of a Greek Minotaur with the clothes of a sentient being and the head of a lost, vacant, angry old gasbag. The world knows it and has acted accordingly.
The lying liars who lie rally round and you can almost hear the strategy meetings: “Okay, the public isn’t buying the stutter deal, guys – and I’m sorry if I misgendered anybody – but, if we allow any criticism through our algorithms, let’s just say it’s his age. You know Trump/Hitler is no spring chicken, either. Yeah, AGE is the word to repeat, not, God forbid, SENILITY.”
And, just like that, every media outlet even slightly left of center starts repeating “age” like an old 33 vinyl record with a bad needle. The late and much-lamented Rush Limbaugh used to play mash-ups of the news-heads all repeating verbatim whatever the powers-that-be had told them to say. Because most of the left is childish, irresponsible, and stupid, it believes that since children like to hear “Good Night, Moon” every night, grown adults will also enjoy hearing the same word repeated until they mute the television, or, alternatively, shoot it.
But, see, AGE isn’t entirely accurate either! It’s NOT his damn age! Sure, he can’t ride a bike, negotiate a stairway, or find his way off any stage. Sure, he “trips” over a sandbag that some Christian Nationalist probably put in his way. So age has SOMETHING to do with it, but it’s not the whole story. He’s not just old; he’s corrupt, mean, creepy, and demented.
Novelist Herman Wouk was still turning out novels when he was past 100. My mother was cogent and still witty at 94. although I would have recommended her for no higher an office than Vice President. As Border Czar she would have kicked butt and taken names. And I might have been tapped to be the shortest high-fashion runway model in history. Alas, this was not to be.
Somebody old who was still productive? Does the name Benjamin Franklin ring a bell? Born in 1706, Ben held numerous posts such as College President of what eventually became the University of Pennsylvania; also, Deputy Postmaster in 1753. But he was a relatively young man then. His inventions are important and numerous.
What stands out is his stint as Ambassador to France, of great importance during the Revolutionary War, which term ended in 1785 when he was 79 years old. When French Foreign Minister Vergennes said to Thomas Jefferson, “It is you who replace Dr. Franklin?,” Jefferson replied, “No one can replace him, Sir; I am only his successor.”
See, here’s the thing about OUR guy. You know the one. We KNOW he isn’t perfect and we don’t pretend that he is. We aren’t planning to marry him. Over half a century ago at a family dinner at my late in-laws’ home, my mother-in-law opined that she would not vote for a man who had divorced his wife. And my father-in-law said: “You recently returned from Israel. Did you check to make sure your pilot and co-pilot were not divorced?!” And, good-natured little lady that she was, Minna laughed at herself and said, “Oh, Lyosh, you are right.”
Right now the Ship of State is racing headlong for an iceberg and is most of the way there. Our fellow citizens can see that we desperately need a new pilot, or captain, and it’s so bad that it’s beginning to dawn even on a few brave African-Americans and Jewish Democrats – as well as the traditional conservatives — that some bold new thing needs to be done. And urgently.
Perhaps I can contribute a marching song for our epic battle ahead. A songwriter named George F. Root wrote around 35 Civil War songs (per research on the Office of the Historian Website) which were hugely popular. I was shocked to learn this. My own dear departed mother taught me the following song before I was school-age, probably around 1950. That’s a fur piece from the Civil War, so Mr. Root’s work definitely resonated through the ages.
One of his most famous songs was for the Union prisoners held in unspeakable conditions. I’m sure that the prisons for the Confederate POWs were bad too, but Andersonville was notorious. And he wrote a song of inspiration to keep the Union POWs’ spirits up.
When I became aware there even was such a horrible thing called war, I thought only of World War I. I had seen pictures of my Grandpa in his uniform. And I was raised knowing that a Marine uncle I had never met had been killed in World War II. But the Civil War was not on my radar except for that time when I was in my stroller and I told Mama I wanted “fweedom.” No, wait, that was somebody else. I probably said I wanted a cookie. Anyway, I knew this Root song and sang it walking home from school. It had a great cadence.
Tramp, tramp, tramp
The boys are marching.
Cheer up, comrades, they will come.
And beneath the starry flag,
We shall breathe the air again
Of the free land in our own
Beloved homes.
In homage to Mr. Root let me offer this song to inspire not only the political prisoners from January 6, who have been held without trial for years, but also for all our suffering citizens imprisoned by the Orwellian cultural and political horrors we see every day:
Trump, Trump Trump
We will be voting!
Cheer up, comrades, we will win!
At our peril we bestow
A fourth term on Barry O.
If we ever want our country free again.
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