Human beings aren't very smart, so it's a good thing we don't have to do much thinking. The lovely reason for that: We already know pretty much everything, including the unknowable. It's a gift.
(And yes, we know where that gift came from.)
I didn't watch the Ford-Kavanaugh hearings, but I saw plenty of excerpts on news programs after they were over. If you had a bet on who would get closer to breaking down in tears, you probably lost.
But it makes sense: Ford is getting a chance to tell her story; Kavanaugh can only repeat it's not true and speculate angrily about what is really going on.
It must be frustrating for him.
For his part, President Trump knows exactly what's going on. He knows it for a fact, and he's offered a guarantee to back it up.
(Too bad his grasp of reality is so slippery; his guarantees are worthless.)
Kavanaugh echoes Trump's suspicion about the Democrats, and they both know the motive—those guys are bad losers. Everything they do now is an attempt to get revenge for Trump's brilliant win in the 2016 election.
Republican outrage is widespread and goes deep into their sense of what is fair.
(For we humans, fair means getting whatever it is we want. Otherwise, the contest is rigged and we can prove it with impeccable logic.)
On the other hand, the Republican sense of fairness does not include letting all of Kavanaugh's accusers take their turn under oath. Which is practical. They can see the trend. Given time, the list of accusers will naturally grow. Republicans need to nip this craziness in the bud, pronto.
(One Republican senator suggested the Democrats wanted to drag this thing out until after the 2020 election. Imagine that.)
When things go wrong, humans go to work building theories about what's happening.
Suppose the Publishers Clearing House Prize Patrol knocks on your door. But after a moment of elation, you realize they're looking for your neighbor's house. He's the winner here, not you. Then you realize the neighbor in question is not one of your current neighbors, but a guy who used to be your neighbor.
Even stranger, you're the one who moved to this new house, leaving your lucky dog neighbor behind. What the hell is going on? Who could possibly connect you to neighbors you used to have? Are you the target of a foreign intelligence service, but not a very good one? Or does this thing go much deeper? Is God involved? Space aliens? Time travel? Parallel universes?
You bang away at this problem, your brain eagerly spawning solutions of a more and more bizarre nature. Absolutely ignoring the most logical explanation: You're asleep, and this is just a dream.
(Becoming aware you're asleep is called lucid dreaming, and it's pretty rare.)
You wake up, eventually, your head a-swirl with frustrating nonsense. Only because the most reasonable answer is not on the list of possibilities.
During his nightmare testimony, Kavanaugh found himself in the same dilemma, spewing conspiracy theories because he cannot consider the most likely answer: He does stuff when he's drunk he can't remember the next day.
Republican senators absolutely encourage taking this explanation off the table. But it's a gamble. One might forgive adolescent (and post-adolescent) sexual behavior, but not forgive lying about it as an adult when you're presumed to be sober as a judge.
But if Ford is the product of a Democratic con job, Kavanaugh is neither a slime ball nor a liar when he denies being a slime ball.
Ultimately, the only thing that matters is that Kavanaugh is confirmed and there's little or no blowback against Republican candidates in the mid-term elections. And taking the long view (which is necessary when you're trying to nudge Americans away from their hateful liberal stance), Republicans might be willing to take the hit in November.
Meanwhile, reality is taking a hit right now.
Kavanaugh needed to tackle the booze-addled memory question head on. He needed to defend his position he has never suffered blackouts or required any sort of adjustment to his post-drinking reality.
He needed to do something like this: Note (with backing testimony) how he found himself in a bind, about to take a test on a book he had yet to crack open. Detail how he decided to get drunk and read the book in an all-nighter. Document how he aced the test the next morning. Demonstrate how he has never lost the knowledge gained that alcohol-soaked night by reciting from memory, word-for-word, the entire text of that book—proof his memory while drunk is superior to that while sober.
(Play the theme music. Answer the question, Mr. Memory! What are the Thirty-nine Steps?)
Lacking that bravura performance, we have only his assertion he never misplaced or distorted a scintilla of reality while stumbling drunk. (Or his position he never got that drunk in his life, and can prove it. Maybe a brain scan would tell the tale.)
Or he's lying, and he knows exactly what happened the night he tried to take the clothes off a girl wearing a one-piece bathing suit on underneath. And it's his friend Mark Judge who has a problem with memory when the beers are flowing.
Or they're both lying.
Or they're telling the truth and everybody else is lying.
It's the quintessential problem on this planet, generated by the inconvenient fact human beings are the most unreliable witnesses in the universe.
Think about that, if you can.
Friday, September 28, 2018
Monday, September 24, 2018
THE TRAP SNAPS SHUT
Sometimes a trap sneaks up on you and before you know it you're inside looking out and wondering just how this could have occurred. But that's not what happened this time—not the last part, anyway.
Folks are in the trap all right, but they still don't know there's a trap.
I'm talking, of course, about the nomination hearings for Brett Kavanaugh. There was this hitch, see, and it came about slowly, creeping up on folks. Then it got bigger, easier to see—before the smoke machines started up.
A woman has come forward—and there appears to be another inching toward the light—to accuse the Supreme Court nominee of sexual assault. He denies it, adamantly. He practically denies knowing what sexual assault would even look like.
(It may be time for Kavanaugh to swear under oath he doesn't even have a penis.)
Lots of women from his past have stepped up to say he never assaulted them in any way, so there! Proof he's a gentleman, now and forever.
Sorry, but that's silly. Someone needs to ask those women how many of their interactions with Kavanaugh occurred while he was stumbling drunk. I get the feeling the answer would be "none."
Which means their input is virtually useless. Kavanaugh's accuser says the guy was wasted when the incident took place. Which might explain why he can say—without hesitation—he has no knowledge of the event.
Is it possible he means "no memory" of the event?
In the human brain, there is no knowledge without memory. The fun begins when memory of past knowledge surfaces to say, "Busted!"
(That apparently hasn't happened, yet.)
President Trump says he wants to hear the woman's story, which sounds fair on the surface. But he's gone on to impugn her yet to be given testimony. Why, he wants to know, did she not report the assault way back when? If the attack was so heinous and everything.
(Kavanaugh's problem: He wasn't famous enough to get away with grabbing a young woman by the pussy. Maybe he needed a fixer-type would-be lawyer to buy her off for maybe a buck ninety-eight and a 3-pack of yellow highlighters. Worth a try, right? If you wanna run with the Trump crowd, you gotta know the rules.)
Trump's statement in support of his nominee is consistent with his a-hole behavior all along, as president and before. Here's the cool thing: A-holes never know they're a-holes. I'm sure he sees his comment as perfectly reasonable. I expect he'll soon double-down on it, as he is wont to do.
Meanwhile, criticism is growing on Twitter, under the "why I didn't report" hashtag. In reality, reports of this sort are almost never made. As a consequence, absence of a report means NOTHING.
Senate Republicans have dived into a similar trap, suggesting the back and forth negotiations over how the woman will testify are nothing but delaying tactics. They know this because dragging their feet is exactly the sort of dodgy thing they would do, faced with a similar situation. They just naturally assume everybody is as corrupt as they are.
(Politicians are only a couple of notches above child molesters. Not that they know it. In fact, actual child molesters might object to the indignity of landing so close to congress critters on the list of the infamous.)
Too bad the comment about delaying the proceedings draws attention to the game they're playing. They need to get the man seated on the bench before the opening of the Supreme Court in October, so he can go right to work shoving Americans way to the right, where they allegedly belong. God forbid the Republicans can't get 'er done before the midterm elections. They need the stink of this thing to go away long before then.
Trump is also in a panic over the timing. If the Democrats take control of the House, it could mean a vote of impeachment. That could get ugly.
As I mentioned a few weeks ago (BAD PRESIDENT), to avoid catastrophe when impeaching the president, make it look like an accident. That was a joke, of course, but there's a kernel of truth in there.
The best way to impeach Trump is to trick (or trap) the man into doing something so bizarre, so beyond-the-pale, even his staunchest supporters would say, "Ah, hell no!"
Then let the Republicans lead the way to impeachment.
The Dems wouldn't even have to take the House to get that done.
Folks are in the trap all right, but they still don't know there's a trap.
I'm talking, of course, about the nomination hearings for Brett Kavanaugh. There was this hitch, see, and it came about slowly, creeping up on folks. Then it got bigger, easier to see—before the smoke machines started up.
A woman has come forward—and there appears to be another inching toward the light—to accuse the Supreme Court nominee of sexual assault. He denies it, adamantly. He practically denies knowing what sexual assault would even look like.
(It may be time for Kavanaugh to swear under oath he doesn't even have a penis.)
Lots of women from his past have stepped up to say he never assaulted them in any way, so there! Proof he's a gentleman, now and forever.
Sorry, but that's silly. Someone needs to ask those women how many of their interactions with Kavanaugh occurred while he was stumbling drunk. I get the feeling the answer would be "none."
Which means their input is virtually useless. Kavanaugh's accuser says the guy was wasted when the incident took place. Which might explain why he can say—without hesitation—he has no knowledge of the event.
Is it possible he means "no memory" of the event?
In the human brain, there is no knowledge without memory. The fun begins when memory of past knowledge surfaces to say, "Busted!"
(That apparently hasn't happened, yet.)
President Trump says he wants to hear the woman's story, which sounds fair on the surface. But he's gone on to impugn her yet to be given testimony. Why, he wants to know, did she not report the assault way back when? If the attack was so heinous and everything.
(Kavanaugh's problem: He wasn't famous enough to get away with grabbing a young woman by the pussy. Maybe he needed a fixer-type would-be lawyer to buy her off for maybe a buck ninety-eight and a 3-pack of yellow highlighters. Worth a try, right? If you wanna run with the Trump crowd, you gotta know the rules.)
Trump's statement in support of his nominee is consistent with his a-hole behavior all along, as president and before. Here's the cool thing: A-holes never know they're a-holes. I'm sure he sees his comment as perfectly reasonable. I expect he'll soon double-down on it, as he is wont to do.
Meanwhile, criticism is growing on Twitter, under the "why I didn't report" hashtag. In reality, reports of this sort are almost never made. As a consequence, absence of a report means NOTHING.
Senate Republicans have dived into a similar trap, suggesting the back and forth negotiations over how the woman will testify are nothing but delaying tactics. They know this because dragging their feet is exactly the sort of dodgy thing they would do, faced with a similar situation. They just naturally assume everybody is as corrupt as they are.
(Politicians are only a couple of notches above child molesters. Not that they know it. In fact, actual child molesters might object to the indignity of landing so close to congress critters on the list of the infamous.)
Too bad the comment about delaying the proceedings draws attention to the game they're playing. They need to get the man seated on the bench before the opening of the Supreme Court in October, so he can go right to work shoving Americans way to the right, where they allegedly belong. God forbid the Republicans can't get 'er done before the midterm elections. They need the stink of this thing to go away long before then.
Trump is also in a panic over the timing. If the Democrats take control of the House, it could mean a vote of impeachment. That could get ugly.
As I mentioned a few weeks ago (BAD PRESIDENT), to avoid catastrophe when impeaching the president, make it look like an accident. That was a joke, of course, but there's a kernel of truth in there.
The best way to impeach Trump is to trick (or trap) the man into doing something so bizarre, so beyond-the-pale, even his staunchest supporters would say, "Ah, hell no!"
Then let the Republicans lead the way to impeachment.
The Dems wouldn't even have to take the House to get that done.
Thursday, September 20, 2018
DEMONS
The other day a TV station ran a piece of video I had forgotten. A reporter was chasing a politician down a flight of steps, demanding to know if the fellow believed the women who were coming forward to muddy the waters for Roy Moore.
(I wonder if Mr. Moore has conceded his defeat in that election yet.)
The politician had this response: The Democratic party will do anything to destroy America.
Okay, not exactly an answer to the question. But I get what he's saying. All this nonsense about Roy Moore rubbing up against sixteen-year-old girls is clearly made up by the Democrats (somehow), and therefore means nothing.
How could it? The Democrats are out to gain control of this country so they can tear it to pieces. They're Commies or something, maybe even Hell-spawn.
Republicans, in contrast, just naturally strive to preserve this country. After all, rich people need a place to live.
And don't forget: The country belongs to the rich—literally. They bought it and they own it and they're not going to give it up to a bunch of drooling welfare zombies.
The battle lines are drawn: Do you want a pleasant country in which to enjoy your wealth, or do you want to live in Hell?
Maybe you saw the 1973 SF movie Soylent Green, which depicts New York City in the year 2022. (Too close for comfort?) The question is obvious: Which side of the moat do you want to live on? Inside, with proper Republicans (aka proper Americans), or outside with the sweaty Democratic mob?
Republicans seem to hint it's always going to be your fault you're not rich.
Money, as we now know, comes from hard work and a good birth to rich parents. God can bless you with the second part, and hard work always pays off better if you get a nice head start. Having rich parents gives you confidence. And starting off from an elevated perch allows you to see where you're going.
Also, for Republicans, "welfare user" and "welfare cheat" are virtually the same thing. Which simplifies their innate urge to judge folks.
The ability to demonize your opponent has always been useful in settling complex problems. This is the beauty of the two-party system of politics: Your party is okay, the other guys are monsters out to destroy the country.
Precise, clear-cut, visionary—decision making at its finest.
Turns out, human beings are not just stupid, they're lazy. Always looking for a short-cut. And always finding one. It's one of our most useful talents.
I guess God is smiling down on us.
(I wonder if Mr. Moore has conceded his defeat in that election yet.)
The politician had this response: The Democratic party will do anything to destroy America.
Okay, not exactly an answer to the question. But I get what he's saying. All this nonsense about Roy Moore rubbing up against sixteen-year-old girls is clearly made up by the Democrats (somehow), and therefore means nothing.
How could it? The Democrats are out to gain control of this country so they can tear it to pieces. They're Commies or something, maybe even Hell-spawn.
Republicans, in contrast, just naturally strive to preserve this country. After all, rich people need a place to live.
And don't forget: The country belongs to the rich—literally. They bought it and they own it and they're not going to give it up to a bunch of drooling welfare zombies.
The battle lines are drawn: Do you want a pleasant country in which to enjoy your wealth, or do you want to live in Hell?
Maybe you saw the 1973 SF movie Soylent Green, which depicts New York City in the year 2022. (Too close for comfort?) The question is obvious: Which side of the moat do you want to live on? Inside, with proper Republicans (aka proper Americans), or outside with the sweaty Democratic mob?
Republicans seem to hint it's always going to be your fault you're not rich.
Money, as we now know, comes from hard work and a good birth to rich parents. God can bless you with the second part, and hard work always pays off better if you get a nice head start. Having rich parents gives you confidence. And starting off from an elevated perch allows you to see where you're going.
Also, for Republicans, "welfare user" and "welfare cheat" are virtually the same thing. Which simplifies their innate urge to judge folks.
The ability to demonize your opponent has always been useful in settling complex problems. This is the beauty of the two-party system of politics: Your party is okay, the other guys are monsters out to destroy the country.
Precise, clear-cut, visionary—decision making at its finest.
Turns out, human beings are not just stupid, they're lazy. Always looking for a short-cut. And always finding one. It's one of our most useful talents.
I guess God is smiling down on us.
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
POLITICALLY MOTIVATED
The White House is currently facing a barrage of attacks, from Bob Woodward's new book, Fear, to an unnamed member of the "resistance"—legions of anonymous folks claiming the president is unfit to perform his duties.
(One-time aide and full-time critic, Omarosa Manigault-Newman, is definitely not anonymous, though some might wish she were.)
The usual suspects are lining up to defend the president, notably his vice president, Mike Pence. Everything, he says, is wrong with the picture painted by unknown (and cowardly) sources in the White House. He knows; he's right there. From time to time. Sort of.
Attacking the president is, of course, a despicable pastime. Lies, all lies, and clearly politically motivated. Right?
That's the Republican position, anyway.
And as long as sources remain anonymous, it's hard to say which side is correct.
Except for this: The nightly news is filled with facts detailing Donald Trump's behavior in public. This is not fake, and this is not partisan. This is the actual president behaving like a buffoon, lying about this or that, whatever, right in front of everybody—and a bunch of network cameras.
Not to mention a feverish swarm of Tweety rants launched against his many detractors.
(Sarah Huckabee Sanders says the president fights fire with fire. Actually, he fights fire with poop. It's his preferred ammunition, and he seems to have a mountain of it within easy reach.)
Given all this public evidence, Trump's supporters face an uphill road to portray the man as smoothly presidential in private.
Case in point: Trump defends his performance at the Helsinki press conference with a sleight of hand pass over the word "would" that transforms it into "wouldn't" for history books in the "what I meant to say or do" section.
And top republicans profess to be satisfied with this moronic magic show.
Now that's gotta be a lie. Moreover, it's a lie absolutely motivated by partisan politics. They need to look supportive for the sake of the party—or they'll be blitzed in the midterm elections. So they lie.
And check this out, Trump's defenders have ripped a page from their master's play book, accusing folks of doing exactly what the accusers themselves are doing. Just like the president, they project their failings onto their opponents.
Ah, the sincerest form of flattery.
Meanwhile, the machinery dedicated to maligning the press continues, at ramped up speed.
Here's a warning for the president: The harder you—and your co-conspirators—rage at the press for its alleged lies, the deeper the hole gets.
Brace yourself for a cave-in.
(One-time aide and full-time critic, Omarosa Manigault-Newman, is definitely not anonymous, though some might wish she were.)
The usual suspects are lining up to defend the president, notably his vice president, Mike Pence. Everything, he says, is wrong with the picture painted by unknown (and cowardly) sources in the White House. He knows; he's right there. From time to time. Sort of.
Attacking the president is, of course, a despicable pastime. Lies, all lies, and clearly politically motivated. Right?
That's the Republican position, anyway.
And as long as sources remain anonymous, it's hard to say which side is correct.
Except for this: The nightly news is filled with facts detailing Donald Trump's behavior in public. This is not fake, and this is not partisan. This is the actual president behaving like a buffoon, lying about this or that, whatever, right in front of everybody—and a bunch of network cameras.
Not to mention a feverish swarm of Tweety rants launched against his many detractors.
(Sarah Huckabee Sanders says the president fights fire with fire. Actually, he fights fire with poop. It's his preferred ammunition, and he seems to have a mountain of it within easy reach.)
Given all this public evidence, Trump's supporters face an uphill road to portray the man as smoothly presidential in private.
Case in point: Trump defends his performance at the Helsinki press conference with a sleight of hand pass over the word "would" that transforms it into "wouldn't" for history books in the "what I meant to say or do" section.
And top republicans profess to be satisfied with this moronic magic show.
Now that's gotta be a lie. Moreover, it's a lie absolutely motivated by partisan politics. They need to look supportive for the sake of the party—or they'll be blitzed in the midterm elections. So they lie.
And check this out, Trump's defenders have ripped a page from their master's play book, accusing folks of doing exactly what the accusers themselves are doing. Just like the president, they project their failings onto their opponents.
Ah, the sincerest form of flattery.
Meanwhile, the machinery dedicated to maligning the press continues, at ramped up speed.
Here's a warning for the president: The harder you—and your co-conspirators—rage at the press for its alleged lies, the deeper the hole gets.
Brace yourself for a cave-in.
Tuesday, September 4, 2018
APOLOGIES
The flap over the recent report on predator priests has sent wave after wave of Catholic apologies into the world. But is it a case of too little too late?
At the very least.
Personally, I'm waiting for the Pope to make the Big Apology, to say he's sorry on behalf of Christianity for foisting this God/Jesus nonsense on the world for so long in the face of its obvious failure to live up to its early hype as an end of the world cult.
According to the Gospels, Jesus told his followers the end of the world would occur during their generation, that one of them would live to see it, and that it would happen before they could get to all the towns and villages to tell folks it was about to happen.
Though these words were supposedly spoken forty years before the fall of the Second Temple—an event that would have been looked on as an obvious precursor to the end of the world—they were not actually written until after the destruction of the temple. Consequently, the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven was woefully overdue when the prediction was published.
Fast forward two thousand years, and still no Apocalypse. Seems we've been misled.
(I know, "apocalypse" doesn't mean "end of the world;" it means "revelation"—in this particular case, the revelation of the end of the world. Similarly, "Armageddon" is the name of the place where the final battle of good and evil is to take place, not the name of the actual conflict. Words take on short-cut meanings, and that can't be helped. Also, it's all a bunch of crap, so keeping it straight is pretty much a waste of time. Like fighting over possession of the deck chairs on the Titanic—only to find out you can't lash 'em together to make a life-saving raft.)
The Pope says we should face these contentious times with silence and prayer. Which sounds to me like: Keep your mouth shut and let the Big Guy take care of everything.
It also sounds like what a predator priest might tell one of his young victims.
Along with: Stop your whining, you little brat! It's a blessing to find my anointed penis going where God Almighty desires it to go. And by the way, if you tell your parents about our little encounters, I'll make sure they end up in hell for all eternity. I have that authority. Don't think I won't use it!
Wow! Good thing all that power is vested in those special human beings, fellows trained to know what God wants and how to get it done. After all, who in this world can you trust, if not your priest?
For some of those guys, it was like a license to print money. Or tap the prettiest ass, as the Good Lord directs.
God: man's most successful invention—ubiquitous, all consuming, and not to be ignored. Accept no substitutes. Ride or die.
The Pope will never come clean about Christianity. He knows he's already as clean as he can be. After all, he's been washed by the blood of the lamb.
When in the Matrix, always take the blue pill. You won't want to miss a glorious second of 1999—it's the best year ever, world without end, amen.
At the very least.
Personally, I'm waiting for the Pope to make the Big Apology, to say he's sorry on behalf of Christianity for foisting this God/Jesus nonsense on the world for so long in the face of its obvious failure to live up to its early hype as an end of the world cult.
According to the Gospels, Jesus told his followers the end of the world would occur during their generation, that one of them would live to see it, and that it would happen before they could get to all the towns and villages to tell folks it was about to happen.
Though these words were supposedly spoken forty years before the fall of the Second Temple—an event that would have been looked on as an obvious precursor to the end of the world—they were not actually written until after the destruction of the temple. Consequently, the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven was woefully overdue when the prediction was published.
Fast forward two thousand years, and still no Apocalypse. Seems we've been misled.
(I know, "apocalypse" doesn't mean "end of the world;" it means "revelation"—in this particular case, the revelation of the end of the world. Similarly, "Armageddon" is the name of the place where the final battle of good and evil is to take place, not the name of the actual conflict. Words take on short-cut meanings, and that can't be helped. Also, it's all a bunch of crap, so keeping it straight is pretty much a waste of time. Like fighting over possession of the deck chairs on the Titanic—only to find out you can't lash 'em together to make a life-saving raft.)
The Pope says we should face these contentious times with silence and prayer. Which sounds to me like: Keep your mouth shut and let the Big Guy take care of everything.
It also sounds like what a predator priest might tell one of his young victims.
Along with: Stop your whining, you little brat! It's a blessing to find my anointed penis going where God Almighty desires it to go. And by the way, if you tell your parents about our little encounters, I'll make sure they end up in hell for all eternity. I have that authority. Don't think I won't use it!
Wow! Good thing all that power is vested in those special human beings, fellows trained to know what God wants and how to get it done. After all, who in this world can you trust, if not your priest?
For some of those guys, it was like a license to print money. Or tap the prettiest ass, as the Good Lord directs.
God: man's most successful invention—ubiquitous, all consuming, and not to be ignored. Accept no substitutes. Ride or die.
The Pope will never come clean about Christianity. He knows he's already as clean as he can be. After all, he's been washed by the blood of the lamb.
When in the Matrix, always take the blue pill. You won't want to miss a glorious second of 1999—it's the best year ever, world without end, amen.
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