Big trouble in little Jina

"Donald Trump's hair from behind, 2007" by Joe Shlabotnik. CC BY-SA 2.0
via Wikimedia Commons

From the article "Five Days of Fury: Inside Trump's Paris Temper, Election Woes, and Staff Upheaval," written by Josh Dawsey and Philip Rucker, and publishing in The Washington Post on November 13, 2018.

This may be my favorite quotation of the year:

“He’s just a bull carrying his own china shop with him when­ever he travels the world,” presidential historian Douglas Brinkley said.

It's pronounced "Jina," Doug. Otherwise, you seem spot-on to me.

Stairway to Hockeytown

"Batman riding the escalator? Sure" by GabboT
CC BY-SA 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons

On escalators and stairs in Toronto, there should be 5 options:

1. Walk on the left.
   
2. Stand on the right.
   
3. I have a hockey stick and can't control it.
   
4. I don't know where I'm going but I'm going to move really slowly and block your path; then, when I see that my destination is straight ahead, I'm going to run like a bat out of hell to catch it, your safety and survival be damned.
   
5. Like, I'm texting. So deal.

The Abuser-in-Chief

I've dealt with some horrible people in my time, both at work and in my personal life. I've discussed at length my torturous relationship with Cali, and I've expressed concern about my current work environment, which, despite being situated in the Paradise-on-Earth that is Canada, has its share of manipulative, passive-aggressive types.

The locals think they are cleverer than they actually are--they're not exactly opaque in their motivations. But Cali ... Cali, in retrospect, falls into the worse category of Horrible People: The ragers and yellers. People who dismiss our demand for respect and consider kindness as a weakness to be exploited. People who lash out with the intent to hurt and never apologize for the harm caused. People who torment. People who find the soft belly of our insecurities and drive a knife into them and twist.

Sometimes I've stood there and taken it because I didn't have a choice, or didn't have enough confidence to break free, or hoped with enough love and patience the situation would improve. But it never does. An abuser is an abuser is an abuser. He or she may treat you well and then treat someone else horribly--or vice versa--but it all comes down to the same thing: There is no reasoning with them, no excuse or amount of understanding that will heal them, no sufficient number of pleas or tears that will make them treat you better, and nothing, absolutely nothing that will keep you safe--except getting as far a way as possible as fast as you can. 

I don't say this lightly--I'm a great believer in human beings having the capacity to change, improve, and grow. Likewise, I can forgive a lot because people make mistakes, and because I make mistakes, and sometimes the best thing one can do is understand, forgive, and move forward. Rinse but never repeat.

But the type of abuser I've dealt with, like the type I see in the White House at this moment in time, I am confident that they will never change. What is their incentive to do so? They get what they want, and even when they don't, they can always blame it away on someone else. Cali did that--among other things, he was a ruthless yet piss-poor dissembler and an expert at turning around the situation to make him out to be the injured party and you out to be the guilty one. 

Trump is even worse, and he carries out this abuse in large and small ways, simultaneously among his inner circle and with the world as his stage.

This week I watched that sorry excuse for a human being and a president call people doing their jobs--and doing them well--stupid. Although I know nothing should surprise me anymore, this level of meanness and disdain still shocks. God knows it's hard to listen to that pus-filled sac of a president demean women, men, people of different religions, different ethnicities, and different social and economic classes--and to repeatedly get away with it. It's like reliving my own experiences day in and day out.

If you think you will never be directly affected by Persimmon Hitler's hatred, you could count yourself lucky, but I'd suggest you should just wait and watch. Your time will come. It always does. It's who they are. You are useful in the moment, they will exalt you and your abilities for a while, but then they'll toss you aside as soon as they can. Just ask Jeff Sessions and Trump Wives No. 1 and No. 2. Ask Tiffany. Ask Eric, too.

We can dismiss Orange Julius Caesar's behavior as stress, Alzheimer's, mental illness, narcissism, being a "creative genius," being powerful, being dumb, having a crappy childhood, being abused and becoming the abuser, what have you. But ultimately there's no excuse, no explanation valid enough. The president is a venal, mean-spirited jerk. Maybe he's nice to his family (although I doubt it), but so far, he's exhibited no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Any "likeability" is self-serving and insincere.

At the end of the day, he's weak and insecure, all the hate he feels for himself projected outward onto everyone else. Being a horrible human being and the attention he receives from being one are his only validations. And, alas, at my most uncharitable, I think that describes Cali to the core as well.

In the meantime, we can do our best to tune him out but also pay attention to what he and his cohorts are doing. We can resist and find some space away from him. We can celebrate our victories and do our best to have more.

It will take some time, but we will survive him. I hope the mid-terms show in some small way what's possible when we stand together and fight back.

The next time we won't be so foolish. I have to believe that in the future, we won't let this happen to us again anytime soon. 

Baby Shambles had a craptastic week

This week, whenever I watched the President of the United States lash out at reporters, French leaders, Jeff Sessions, the wilderness, what have you, I thought of this video from SCTV.

Hint: The President is John Candy playing Shelley Winters.

President Baby Shambles had a craptastic week (e.g., the Democrats taking over the House of Representatives in the 2018 mid-term elections). And I for one can't think of a more deserving person.

Slav to the rhythm

Melania Week continues!

"It is not concern and focus of mine," she said. "I'm a mother and a first lady, and I have much more important things to think about and to do."

"Things like 'What ridiculous-looking, developing nation budget-busting outfit will I wear to meet the President of Burkina Faso?' or 'How constipated should I look for this photo op with these Border children?' or 'If I slap my husband's paw away, will it cause the Twitter to go apeshit?' or 'Do I have a child? And what is his name? Is it Eric?' You know, important things like that. Things that matter."

Melania Trump: The gift that keeps on giving ... the gift of comedy. Or the gift of nausea. Or the gift of dreaming about the return of the guillotine. Take yer pick. 

Poor little rich model

Oh, please.

Try this:

1) Pick a better husband.

2) Don't repeat his birther lies.

3) Don't pretend you didn't cheat your way to an Einstein visa.

4) Do something meaningful other than your fake "Be Best" campaign.

5) Stop seeing yourself as a victim when you are clearly not--or at least not for the reasons you think you are.

Seriously, if you and that orang-uturd you're married to and those inbred in-laws of yours had made the slightest effort to bring people together instead of sowing disinformation and driving an even bigger wedge between people, maybe you'd be less "bullied." Maybe you would have ended up with much better results for your modest efforts. Maybe you might be liked or respected, however begrudgingly.

But y'all went in a completely different direction (remember "American carnage"?), so reap what you sow, babe.

Soft serve

From Bloomberg News, 10 October 2018.

Guuuuuuuuuurrrrllll...

Come on now. You know your man ain't provided really hard evidence in a very long time.

Pleading the pith

For your consideration ... may I humbly suggest to you that the next United States Ambassador to the United Nations should be ... Melania Trump!

Here me out:

She is glamorous. As Our Fearless Leader has already noted, Nikki Haley made the job of UN ambassador look glamorous again--and that is perhaps the real meaning of MAGA, Make America Glamorous Again, in a particularly gilded age, sketchy finances, Queens-to-Manhattan way. Melania could continue what Nikki started. She's a model, so style over substance is what she excels at.

She would be his second choice, after Ivanka, and this is likely not the first time that has happened, so she's used to it.

She speaks something like 250 languages. If she speaks only half of them with the joie de vivre that she communicates in English, we're sure to reduce our chance of global warfare by at least .05%.

She could return to New York, where, like Eva Gabor before her, she would rather stay. (She gets allergic smelling hay, I'm assuming.)

She's so smart! She came to America on an "Einstein visa" even after having her photo taken dressed in a bikini, kissing an inflatable whale. (No, not that whale.)

She already has the wardrobe for international travel and diplomacy. (See photos.)

She's--let's be honest--useless, which is much how the Trump administration views the UN. Thus we can all focus legitimately on what she's wearing and not what she's doing because she won't be doing anything!

It's the circle of life. Sort of.

Brie at last!

Ladies and gentleman, the least cheesy soul singer
I know, Mr. Barry White. By Fotograaf Onbekend / Anefo -
CC0 - Wikimedia Commons

It's ecstasy when you lay brie next to me.

Long live love

When life gets to be too much, as it often does these days, I choose to "Walk on By." I keep "Wishin' and Hopin'." I want you "Back in My Arms Again." I want love to live on and on and on.

I return to the 1960s and 1970s, my childhood, when I was generally unperturbed by much of anything--except perhaps disturbing images of angry segregationists, race riots, the civil war in Biafra, and the Vietnam War. But what did I know then? They were just flat images on a black-and-white screen.

I return to the music of the 1960s and '70s, the Burt Bacharach-Hal David songbook, the Kenny Gamble-Leon Huff songbook, and to a host of lesser known (to me) songwriters, musicians, and singers from that era. Simple, melodic, hummable, singable pop that reminds me of the other images from my childhood--The Ed Sullivan Show, Where the Action Is, Hullabaloo, Shindig, evening variety shows, and Saturday afternoons with American Bandstand and Soul Train.

Here are a few songs that help me get through the day--some I remember from the time, some I've only discovered in adulthood. I hope they help you cope and persevere in trying, confusing, and frustrating times.

Aquarela

It's happening

Because Supreme Beings always deserve more contemplation.

Imagine me and you, I do

We meet every night at 8

In the spotlight

Wouldn't that be cool?

Supreme beings

We were not worthy then. We are not worthy now.

Water, water everywhere

And not a drop to think.

When that Kanye performance from last night's season opener of Saturday Night Live keeps reminding you of the wrong stuff.

Time for a tango

My vacation in Argentina already seems like it took place a hundred years ago. I realize more than ever that I dislike my job, have quickly grown weary from all the sniping on social media, and am tired, tired, tired of the political and cultural drama that my home country keeps exporting to the world.

So let's listen to a tango and forget it all for a while.

I captured this short video of a bandoneón player at the Agüero Subte Station in Buenos Aires on or about 28 August 2018.

Animals that look like Brett Kavanaugh

I wish I could take credit for this specific juxtaposition of images. Someone on Twitter beat me to it and, frankly, did a better job than me.

This has been a theme rolling around in my head all week, given the angry, petulant, hysterical, aggressive, and highly partisan behavior of a man who sucks at job interviews. Hello, angry drunk possum! Meet angry drunk rapey mendacious candidate for the Supreme Court of the United States, Brett Kavanaugh!

I personally might have gone with an angry cornered badger, just not necessarily a honey badger, which seems at least to have a useful purpose in life. I also considered a weasel and a ferret, although I don't think they are particularly aggressive or prone to assaulting women. 

A gaboon viper or a spitting cobra might also be a contender, one of those animals that serves no other purpose than to kill people that startle it. (Sorry, I can't bring myself to post a pic of one or the other. You and Google Images are on your own.)

But, truly, an embittered possum in a nest of beer cans--and Miller High Life, no more, no less, the "champagne of beers"--really is the coup de graceless.

Bravo, Twitter! You may offer the sensory overload of standing in the middle of large party with everyone alternating between drunk-crying, drunk-laughing, and drunk-screaming but occasionally something useful cuts through the bile. And this week it was a possum with a beer tooth and a federal judge in need of an anger management course or a prison sentence, take yer pick.