And then you woke up, Paul Krugman

Being cute and bearish is no longer enough!
Paul Krugman by Prolineserver - 
Own work, GFDL 1.2.

If nothing else, the election of Donald Trump as the Pussy-Grabber in Chief of the United States of America is greatly improving my writing skills. I can now scorch and scald in 1,500 words or fewer.

Unfortunately, not everything I write meets a welcome and willing audience, hungry for my snarkily cutting observations. For example, I had hoped that the New York Times would publish my recent response to this editorial by Paul Krugman, an author and scholar I normally appreciate. Although perhaps not anymore--or at least not for a very long time.

But almost a day latter, nothing, nada, rien, niks, or ничего ("neechevo") as our ascendant Russian overlords might utter.

So you decide--was it something I said?

No offense, Dr. Krugman, but why should I believe anything you or any other columnist or media personality ever predicts again? After numerous column inches and breaking news bulletins devoted to topics--such as the Republican Party is in its death throes, at near-civil war, that Donald Trump is going up in smoke or down in flames, and that the Democrats would win the presidency, the senate, possibly even the house of representatives, cure poverty, create cold fusion, and find every lonely person a partner--I hope that you and your fellow authors (especially Frank Bruni) will understand that I shall remain highly skeptical of any written opinion in your newspaper's pages starting from 9 November 2016 forward to perhaps infinity.

Trust me, I want to believe you--nothing would give me hope or make me happier than to see this vulgar, manipulative, rapacious president-elect fail before he starts and to see those who supported him flushed out in the trickle down shitstorm that may (or may not) come to pass, but which they so savagely deserve. Yes, this is the street where I now live, praying for the misery of people I barely know but probably say hello to in the office or flip off in traffic every day.

But there is absolutely no reason to believe you. Yes, you're an intelligent guy, you're all intelligent guys and gals. But apparently you didn't have any more a clue than I did about how this election might turn out. I might as well have saved my money and spent it on magic beans or regular visits to a tea-leaf reader.

 I haven't canceled my subscription to the Times and the Washington Post yet . . . but I'm strongly considering doing so. If I want this kind of Monday morning armchair political quarterbacking, I'll stick to non-Trump supporting friends on Facebook. They're a helluva lot smarter.

Maybe it wasn't just the Democrats?

I can clearly see the outcome of the election now that it's over

Oh *now* you spell it out. After the fact. Way, way, way after the fact. And way too late to be useful to any of us.

Maybe it's just that you got yourself a new pair of 20/20 hindsight spectacles, Frank Bruni. Or did you used to work for the FBI and are used to delivering important messages to the public at the point where nobody cares?

I'm not sure which makes me angrier right now: Those claiming that Hillary Clinton blew the election (she ran a great campaign and she still had more votes that Trump) or those that say the Democrats "screwed up" as Mr. Bruni so quaintly puts it. While the loss was significant and unsettling, it remains to be proven. Sometimes the people don't like your candidate, sometimes the people want change at any cost, and sometimes the people don't know what the hell they want. It's probably all three, along with a death desire to vote against their own best interests, early and often.

And let's not forget those who insist that if they'd only run Bernie Sanders (Bernie! Thou art in Vermont!) in the general election, we'd now be sipping on cocktails that taste like rainbows while being flown to our bungalows in the Himalayas upon the wings of a talking unicorn.

(Obviously I'm not a fan.)

After this election, I need a cocktail alright. A Molotov cocktail.

Pittsburgh and me, keeping it classy

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