One quick note up front today –
For those of you who read my travelogue posts from England and Scotland, I’ve found some videos featuring the Scottish shepherd who showed us his amazing border collies rounding up sheep. If you search by “Neil Ross Scottish shepherd” you’ll find half a dozen videos of him and his almost-as-smart-as-Cassie-the-Wonder-Dog collies.
(And you’ll wish that our country could be governed by a handful of Scots shepherds and a kennel-ful of border collies, somehow.)
You’re welcome.
Now, because you people are my sounding board for troubling thoughts on politics (not to mention the wind beneath my wings), I’ve got to share two grim thoughts that have been creeping me out lately.
First, the latest illegitimate charges against Trump out of Georgia are filling me with an anger that is not healthy, even though it’s justified. Corrupt DA Fani (she got the homonym right, but not the spelling) Willis has done something I wouldn’t have thought possible: make sleazy Manhattan DA Alvin Bragg’s idiotic indictments look only mostly corrupt and merit-less.
Trying to apply RICO laws to people who did nothing worse than challenge a hinky-looking election is beyond idiotic. Especially since half of the national Democrat party did the same or worse after every election a Republican has won since 2000. Including Ass Willis herself!
Sorry, that’s “Fanny.” Er, “Fani.”
Second, even as I’m furious about the Dems’ shameless and outrageous behavior in bringing all of these indictments, I’m getting an increasingly sinking feeling that the more immoral Machiavellians amongst them are using our righteous anger against us. Through their grotesque weaponizing of the justice system, they’ve just about ensured Trump’s nomination, by causing most of us to instinctively rally to his defense (which we absolutely should), and to support his candidacy (which I’m not so sure about).
I’m most worried that we might be falling prey to the Pauline Kael Syndrome.
Kael was a leftist film critic for the New Yorker who is famously quoted as saying, after Nixon’s landslide presidential victory in 1972, “I can’t believe Nixon won. I don’t know anybody who voted for him.” (Her actual quote was a little different, but in a way that revealed her condescending provincialism even more blatantly.)
That’s a near-perfect example of the bubble mindset that most of us naturally have: because we are surrounded mostly by like-minded people, we assume that most people in the country agree with us. So when we see how utterly terrible Biden is, we assume that everyone sees it. (They largely do: around 70% of all Americans polled say they don’t want him to run!)
And when we see how phony and baseless the cases filed against Trump are (the only one with any merit at all – though it’s still unjustified – is the confidential docs case in Florida, and then only because Trump foolishly said on camera that he didn’t declassify them!), we assume that everyone else does too.
But the same polls that claim that around 70% of Americans don’t want Biden to run also claim that around the same percentage don’t want Trump to run. I’m not inclined to trust polls completely (to say the least!), but I’m also aware of the danger of dismissing any poll whose results we don’t like.
And it’s not just one or two polls from the usual-suspect leftist outlets. The Real Clear Politics average of several dozen recent polls show Trump and Biden tied, or Biden with a small lead of 1-2% of the popular vote. Battleground state polls are slightly worse, as Trump appears to be trailing in the key states that will decide the electoral college totals.
If Trump’s right, and the 2020 election was rigged and/or stolen (I’m sure of the former, and uncertain but leaning toward the latter), we know that since the Dems got away with it, they’ll try the same thing again. So why haven’t we heard of any concrete steps that the RNC or Trump campaign are taking now to ensure that ’24 won’t be just as rigged as ’20 was?
To top that off, no polls that I’m aware of are showing Trump with the 4-5% lead that he’d need to overcome Dem dirty tricks. And that’s after nearly three years of the worst presidency in our history, when he’s running against the clearly corrupt — and physically and mentally decomposing – Joey Gaffes!
We don’t want to believe that. In my heart, I can’t really believe it! Biden is so terrible, and his administration such a dumpster fire. The economy is so damaged, our voluntarily open borders are a national wound that will weaken us for many decades, etc. and etc.
But deep down, I’m dreading waking up on the morning after the election in Pauline Kael’s position: “I can’t believe that Biden won. Nobody I know voted for him.”
I don’t think it’s a done deal, and things could change. And anytime you’re running against a candidate as awful as Brandon – assuming he’s the candidate next year – you’ve always got a chance.
But man, I have never wanted to be wrong about something so badly in my life!
Enough of that – let’s focus on the positive:
We’ve almost arrived at my favorite season of the year, which is marked by the beginning of football. (I can’t say autumn, because September and most of October here in Florida is really “Summer 2: The Humidity Scourge Continues.”)
I’ve enjoyed playing and watching all kinds of sports throughout my life, including baseball, basketball, tennis and football, along with a few others.
Not soccer, obviously. Because I was raised properly, and understand the world.
God gave us the amazing gift of hands, with the concomitant blessing of opposable thumbs (Suck it, sloths and most other creatures!), and they are good for almost anything.
Carpentry. Punching bullies. Releasing the snap on a young woman’s bra (though I’ve only deployed that tactic on one woman since I met the love of my life, and all other women became invisible to me.) Typing hilarious political and cultural columns.
Flipping off Joe Biden if you ever come across his path.
So when some dimwit invents a game that involves us spitting in our Creator’s eye and eschewing the use of our providentially provided hands – not to mention giving ourselves concussions by intentionally hitting a ball with our noggin, rather than from squaring up and driving through a ball carrier head-first, as said Creator intended – we’re supposed to participate?
Bah. BAH, I say!
Anyway, I’ve enjoyed many games throughout my life, but the only one that has stuck is football. And even though my Chicago Bears (you’ve probably heard that they thrilled the nation with their “T” formation) promise to be mediocre again this year, and my Gators are not likely to threaten for the SEC east, my spirits always lift as the first kickoff approaches.
I know that some members of the fairer sex (spoiler alert: there are only two) can experience some spousal neglect when God’s favorite sport begins, as reflected in an old joke:
Guy 1: Well, my wife has divorced me.
Guy 2: Really? Why?
Guy 1: She claims I pay more attention to football than to her.
Guy 2: That’s tough. How long were you married?
Guy 1: Ten seasons.
But if any of the fine ladies in CO nation start to resent their football-obsessed husbands, remember that it could be much worse. Your hubby might ignore you for parts of each fall weekend, and he might get a little too loud when he’s speculating as to whether some referee can distinguish between his arse and a hole in the ground.
But at least you are safe in the knowledge that he’ll never dramatically announce his pronouns, or that he’d like to be called “Zoe,” and that he’s begun hormone therapy as a first step to becoming his essential self as a woman. Or – even more disturbing… a soccer fan.
So you’ve got that going for you.
Biden delenda est!
“Dr.” Jill Biden/Fani “What you talkin’ bout?” Willis, 2024!
Martin Simpson 