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The true danger of Trumpism will be seen from the wave of nihilists running this election cycle.  Obviously, if they were to be elected in large numbers, that itself would represent a crisis.  Yet even if they are thoroughly trounced, as we hope and expect, how they react to defeat will determine the danger we face.  Trumpism is not at all about ideas; there is nothing available in that department. It’s really about boundaries and behavior.  Trump has provided a lurid example how to flaunt virtually every responsible thing about our electoral system.  The degree to which his ugly group of toadies follow his playbook will surely determine how much we should worry as November nears.

Anybody who wants to lose their appetite should go to You Tube and pull up the West Virginia GOP Senate Primary Debate they had the other night. It’s a crowded field ranging from a convicted coal baron, directly responsible for 29 miner deaths, to a couple of off-the-streeters waging long shot bids, but they all share one thing in common: Trump can do no wrong.  At about the hour mark the moderator actually asks them to each expound on their views of the President, and they each shoot for the brownest nose.  One can only imagine what Blue Dog Joe Manchin will be saying to get re-elected. Now, this is West Virginia, fully conservative to be sure, but also not 50 Miles from DC.  Arizona, Mississippi, Tennessee, Utah, Florida, all are auditioning Trumpies for national office, and the rhetoric is frightening because everybody is trying to outTrump their opponent.  What that looks like in the general election is supposed to moderate, but Trumpism is at its core a brand of behavior not a political outlook. It is about how you do things not why. If an entire political class unbinds itself to decency and shame, look out.

While these wannabes are running their campaigns, Trump plans to be on the road holding rallies. He understands his office, if not physical freedom, hinges on November’s results. He will be loose and reckless, of that we can be sure. Should the writing on the wall of a tsunami election start getting clearer and clearer, it would be no surprise he reverts back to “the system is rigged” theme he obsessed on when he was certain he would lose in 2016.  And that is when we will see how dangerous things can become. If Fox/AM, as it most surely will, starts parroting the corrupt process tripe, and Trumpie candidates, polishing their own nihilist brand come what may, fall in line with the shit river, things could get very very dicey.

The essence of Trumpism is a rejection of anything he defines as to blame for whatever grievance he decides he has that hour. Surely if it becomes clear that November will bring full and unmitigated disaster for his prospects, he will get out front on who and what he holds responsible.  It’s not any stretch at all to expect that the process itself will fall right in the crosshairs of those beady eyes.  Trump is Trump and, while ugly and wretched, it’s nothing new.  Besides, flipping the Hill is our salvation, no? But where will that put us?  A rabid Trump cornered and snarling, fully goaded and spun by the shit river, and imitated by a small army of candidates who have no other identity past his bona fides? We could end up in completely uncharted territory.

What’s the old adage? Careful what you wish for… you may get it. Trump has a noose around his neck. The tighter it gets the more reckless he will surely become. Does anybody think he will go quietly into that good night? Who he can enlist to circle the drain with him will determine how ugly his departure will be, and how long and how much we will have to pay for the pestilence of his ascent. BC

Unfortunately, to understand Trump’s wretched core supporters requires more than a passing familiarity with the Fox/AM shit river.  So much of what now characterizes, not only the policy sensibilities of his administration, but the inane stupidity of Trump’s daily relationship with the public, can only be accurately processed through the prism of this world view.

Most important to understanding Fox/Amers is to recognize they don’t care what anybody else thinks.  Their entire outlook has been created and maintained by the “personalities” they, not only rely on as exclusive sources of information, but admire and trust the way a student revers a teacher. After all, before Fox/AM they were tabula rasa, devoid of any perspective on current events other than nagging grievances they dared not articulate. It was all a puzzle with way too many pieces, changing way to fast to follow. They weren’t proud of their apathy, in fact they were ashamed of it. How can you be a patriot if you don’t know who to be mad at? Sean or Glenn or Rush or Bill etc. changed all that, providing a simple storyline they could embrace; the primary characters stayed the same, as did the basic plot, and everything, every second, was either right or wrong. The river doesn’t do grey areas.

The relationship between Trump and his wretched core is identical to, say, Hannity and his fan base, or Rush to his zealots.  Read the comments on Trump’s social media sites and their is no difference to the pages of river stalwarts.  It is critical to appreciate how alienated the wretched core felt prior to Fox/AM, and now that they have a home and feel included, there is no desire to expand horizons, or allow in information that their mentors make clear will damage their standing in the group. If you’re saying to yourself right now “gee, this sounds like some kind of cult,” the simple response is …..duh!

Trump is both the product of and leader of shit river nihilism. Viewed from this lens his presidency is simply the leading show of the nightly line up.  His only concern politically is to keep the base happy. The narrative dictates action; he won’t stray from its guardrails.  Of course this is at odds with any concept of leadership, or responsible government. But since his entire campaign was one rally after another composed of nothing but Fox/AM’s laundry list, “keeping his promises” is the go to mantra. Of course it is fair to ask if any other GOP candidate wouldn’t be doing the same thing since there really wasn’t much daylight on the broad strokes between platforms.

The answer to that question is found within Trump’s deficiencies.  While, say, Ted Cruz, is just as beholden to the narrative as Trump, his intellectual foundation and policy IQ is not fully dependent on it.  In other words, Cruz is educated enough to absorb and relate to disparate information. Trump is not. Trump has been so hopelessly over his head from an intellectual and policy standpoint since taking office, the requisites of balancing arguments to make decisions has unmoored him, taking him miles from his comfort zone, which has for the last decade or more been what Sean and Bill have doled out. His “balance” came from Scarborough until the former congressman became a critic and was cast out for his apostasy. Now it seems to be just Sean, with Fox and Friends providing subjects to tweet about every morning.

So to understand Trump’s wretched core is to comprehend Trump. He is as much a product of the shit river as they are, each fully informed by its narrative and dedicated to its nihilism.  Were Trump to suddenly undergo an epiphany and govern responsibly, Fox/AM would turn on him; there is no doubt of that. But that scenario is not possible because Trump is as exclusively informed by the Fox/AM line as his wretched core and has little ability to think outside its strictures. Moreover, he has become so insecure due to the unforgiving waves of differing views aides and handlers have thrown at him in pursuit of some sort of coherant decision making structure, that he requires the piece of mind provided by a trusty echo chamber.  “Letting Trump be Trump” is simply shorthand for he doesn’t want to hear anything but Fox. Mr. President, Sean Hannity on line 1! BC

Of course anybody can see Trump hates almost everything about being POTUS. This nonsense about him breaking free of handlers to be himself is simply him refusing to do the minimum to do his job properly. Ideology and overt corruption aside, it is discouraging how few seem to be truly vexed and focused on his laziness and refusal to put any effort into his Presidency.

We know he will not brief himself on any issue.  But it’s worse than that.  According to all reliable sources, he also refuses to allow himself to be briefed on any issue.  Now, refusing to sit down and study up on a country or regions’s specifics is one thing, lazy and awful yes, but there is at least some precedent. Reagan was certainly no voracious policy wonk.  More recently, W had an allergy to white papers, even as he led us toward folly in Iraq and an economic meltdown. But to refuse to even listen to advisors lay out policy options, preferring instead Fox and Friends, or a phone call from Sean Hannity? That is La La Land. And by all accounts that is where we are.

Trump has played golf 20 percent of his time in office.  He now calls Mar A Lago “the Southern White House.” It has become clear he’d spend not an hour in the real White House if he had his way. According to aides, he wants to do several rallies a week up to Election Day. Three rallies and off to Palm Beach is how he wants his weekly schedule to look until November. What does that actually entail?  Early morning tweets attacking all enemies, i.e. non-sycophants, followed by “executive time” with the Fox gang, especially Ainsley – does anybody really think he got hooked on that crappy show because of Steve Doocy?! – and then off to the rally du jour for a 90 minute fever dream session with his wretched core. Repeat.

Somewhere in there will be disarming North Korea. Of course the notion that such talks require exhaustive preparations, not to mention thorough discussions with allies, most importantly South Korea, doesn’t seem to apply with this President. This is, after all, Trump, who reminds us hourly of the failures of previous administrations, even as he slips out for yet another round at Doral.  Remember, like Lou Dobbs says, he makes his own rules.

History will catalog all of Trump’s disgraces. From his ugly vindictive war on American progress, to his radical redistribution of wealth and needless ballooning of already critical debt levels, to his wreckless counterproductive protectionism and assaults on the environment, to one of the most corrupt administrations in history, filled with cabinet secretaries bent on destroying the missions of the departments they are supposed to promote.  The record will document a foreign policy more punitive to allies than adversaries, and built on a zero-sum proposition fully oblivious toward America’s leadership role. History may even recognize a POTUS fully compromised by a foreign power and actually beholden to its agenda.

But what some of us will remember first and foremost about the imposter we elected in November of 2016 is abject laziness, punctuated by a complete aversion to anything designed to improve his job performance.

From the 16-minute regurgitation of nihilist campaign tropes pawned off as an inauguration speech,  to countless embarrassments on the international stage due to nothing more than a lack of basic preparation, this POTUS insults the office he holds by willfully ignoring its basic obligations. Some say we are fortunate for his sloth; if he really tried our pluralism would be imperiled.  Perhaps that is true.  But it seems cold comfort when your POTUS is hustling to putt out so he can catch the funeral of one of his own party’s First Ladies at the 19th hole.  The American Presidency was not meant for couch potatoes. BC

 

I remember it clearly. It wasn’t quite an epiphany, but it qualified as a significant insight. Back in late September, 2001 I was heartened by the notion that the silver lining to 9/11 was a tangible sense that our inane reality TV culture had been knocked to the canvas, replaced by a real bipartisan sense of unity and higher purpose.

Things were moving fast, and of course the ugly finger prints of Dick Cheney were starting to proliferate, but America seemed to be snapped out of its stupor. The idea that anybody could get their 15 minutes had lost its luster, now family and friends and community seemed paramount… who gave a crap about roommates stabbing each other in the back? Or kids self-destructing within their own nastiness? Yes, for a while it was kind of glorious….and then it was over. And almost 20 years later we’re more vapid than ever. Oh, and we elected the genre’s most grotesque caricature POTUS.   Like a yo-yo dieter, following discipline and self improvement with a binge that doesn’t stop, our culture has more worthless flab than ever. What the hell happened? And what will it take to get us back on the wagon?

If 9/11 represented one of the worst days in US history, it also posed an opportunity and a challenge. It seemed obvious at the time, if not to many in the Bush Administration, that a proper response to the attack would in large part analyze and better understand the whole reason the cabal succeeded beyond their wildest dreams: that we were not prepared for men, not just ready to die for their cause, but employing their death as the lynchpin to execute their plan. It occurred to nobody on those planes until it was too late that their hijackers planned to die. No negotiations, no heading to Cuba, no airport shootouts. Their  deaths were both the means and the end of their horrible scheme.

It struck me at the time, and still does today, that unless we better learn why men would enthusiastically sacrifice themselves to cause us harm, we will never be able to deploy any sort of viable response to confront them. From a policy and societal standpoint 9/11 gave us differing ways to go.  We could allow its devastating carnage to petrify us and retreat as a nation behind a military that would surely unleash the wrath of God on somebody.  This approach would paint swaths of the world with a broad brush, and allow the trauma we suffered to dilute what foreigners could offer in fear of the threat they conjured up.

An offshoot of this thinking would be to turn inward, retrenching from our world leadership role. This, of course, would by any account allow the terrorists a victory, not to mention create a plethora of other problems. Moreover, as a democratic system, and destination for many a world refugee, retreating from our missions abroad could only discourage our interest in other peoples and render us less hospitable to those wishing to come here.

A different  way would be to view 9/11 as a tragic aberration, a freak, a horrible crime carried out by maniacs, whose fanaticism provided the blind spot needed to carry out their insanity. Until 9/11 we could not process planned suicide on our shores. Now was the time to better understand its genesis. Certainly there was no reason not to unite the world against the wretched Taliban in Afghanistan, who had been committing outrage after outrage since taking over in Kabul. But our guiding priority had to be to understand why educated men would methodically plan their own destruction to harm us. It seemed obvious that to better grasp this issue meant engagement not just confrontation, and diplomacy not just the military. Dealing with the threat of fanatical elements within Islam with more nuance than a zero-sum crusade would require courage and tolerance, but good policy usually flows from exactly those attributes.

We all knew watching the Towers come down that things would change. So extreme a horror, shared in real time by the entire nation, was going to have a lasting foot print….everybody understood that. Less clear was how the path we chose going forward in response to terror would effect our culture and the society it defined. Xenophobia is by definition boring because it excludes. The military is boring because it relies on routine to instill discipline and training.  Fear is boring because it views most things new as threats and seeks to avoid them.  To the degree the 9/11 attacks were allowed to dim our enthusiasm for new frontiers and understanding, and to the extent our interaction with other countries and people’s was going to be a military exercise, our cultural vibrancy would suffer.  Why wouldn’t our cultural life be defined by the limitations of our national security policy? To the extent it was bold and engaging, we could be a creative, dynamic society, staging new entertainment based on discovery.  To the degree we met the world with wariness, equating it’s unknowns with danger, we would rest on our laurels and watch reruns. Downtown Abbey or Jersey Shore? Our choice.

Sadly, we know the route we took, and we are living with the consequences. Can we ever get to and give the third option a shot? What trauma will we have to endure to achieve the clarity necessary to consider it? I have no idea, but perhaps we can ponder the question over a 3 Part Reunion Special of The Real Houswives of Atlanta.  What do you say? BC

 

 

I am lame in countless ways, prominently among them is my failure to secure satellite radio for my car. This limits me to an FM/AM buffet ranging from Classic Rock greatest hits played over and over to  Mark Levin (nuff said).  One exception has become my favorite channel – The Bluegrass Foundation, which is fully devoted to the music and history that truly defines Appalachia.

While I am no expert on the subject, I have become a big fan of the genre. It’s hard not to love the detailed string work and sad harmonies of music dating back generations, with vivid tales of woe. Anybody who steeps themselves in Bluegrass for any time at all quickly recognizes some prominent topics which thread through its offerings. Undying devotion is big, of course religion plays a huge role, unfaithfulness and betrayal are well represented, as is the strains of poverty.  And as everpresent as any subject through the years is the hardships and dangers of the coal mines.  It is hard to find a sadder set of songs in the entire discography of American music than Bluegrass’ tales of early death and daily hardships at the hands of Appalachian coal mines, punctuated by an underlying narrative of poverty and exploitation. A coal miner’s life is nothing but sorrow to hear it told in a  sad Kentucky melody.

On April 5, 2010, part of the Upper Big Branch Coal Mine, located in the bowels of Montcoal, West Virginia, exploded violently, killing 29 miners. It was the worst US mine disaster since 1970, and by the time the Mine Safety and Health Administration (MSHA) issued their final report in December of 2011, it had labeled the coal dust explosion an “entirely preventable tragedy” brought on by a plethora of “unlawful policies and practices”. The 1000-page report cited the mine’s operator, Massey Energy, as “flagrant” in its negligence of basic safety protocols and criminally responsible for the loss of life. The report noted the mine was literally a tinder box and it was common knowledge working in it amounted to Russian roulette.  When asked during proceedings why they didn’t protest the situation and push for change, one miner on the stand said with resignation that mine owners simply “buy off judges and have political connections.” Indeed, what emerged from the Big Branch disaster was a portrait of corruption and disregard for miner safety and well being so pronounced some degree of reformation was enabled… it could not be ignored, said Joe Manchin, West Virginia’s Governor at the time.

And who is this skel who ran Massey Energy with the greed and avarice fully blamed for the deaths of 29 miners? Surely he must be ruined and reviled, living a life of shame and disgrace. Not exactly. Actually, after pleading a litany of felony counts against him down to a misdemeanor  beef of “conspiring to violate mining standards”, and serving less than a year in country club conditions, Don Blankenship, former Massey Energy CEO, has decided he wants to be a US Senator; and it appears, after loaning his campaign millions of dollars, he is closing with interest past the GOP primary field, setting the stage for another party character test in the general election.

Of course, nobody seems to have bought Trump’s regressive myths about the wonders of a career in coal mining more than his wretched base in West Virginia. And it is that group that Massey and his hapless primary opponents are angling for. Which has transformed Massey from a nefarious mine baron, directly responsible for what amounted to mass murder, to just another Trumpie neophyte, busy convincing the wretched core he can provide the POTUS with a better BJ than his opponents.

And what can we expect from the GOP if Blankenship wins the primary and faces Blue Dog Manchin in November? Pulleease!! Do you really have to ask?! My Lord! What’s a little mining accident? Hell, in Alabama they were all in for a guy local mall security had APBs out for back in the day. What is there you don’t understand about the word “accident”? This is not a slippery slope, it is an ice fall. Can you say “Trump Rally”?! He won’t be able to get there fast or often enough. And despite what increasingly appear to be Mitch McConnell’s futile efforts to sway the primary away from Blankenship, even as amoral Democratic machiavellians undercut his opponents, with Senate control in the balance, the tedious turtle will swallow the sliver of pride he still possesses and at least look the other way come fall.

In a landscape where there is no bottom, underground explosions appear to be easily forgotten. Where is Lester Flatt when you need him.  BC

 

 

 

Surely one of the worst frauds perpetrated on American non-fiction readers is The Art of the Deal. One hundred percent ghost written, by an author, who now fully discredits his own work; it details a protagonist who never existed, who puts forth a gospel he never had the first clue about and had as much to do with his personal approach to business as a comb to my personal appearance.

Talk to any of Trump’s wretched core for even a couple of minutes and one will fully appreciate how important the idea of his obsessively cultivated business acumen is to his credibility as POTUS. Ask about any of Trump’s countless list of peccadillos and the first fall back will be “well he’s a businessman, not a politician.” “Being so successful in business, he’s always played by his own rules” has become a Fox/AM favorite, regurgitated by his defenders.  And the myth of Trump the business titan started, proceeded and has been largely sustained, through thick and thin, by the Art of the Deal.  Indeed, of all the lies Trump has used for the clothes of his smoke and mirrors existence, none is more enduring than the 1987 bestseller Tony Schwartz, it’s real author, deems the worst mistake of his life.

But what makes it so odious? Why is its principle narrative so skewed, so inaccurate that it is actually used as a principle basis for indicting its protagonist based wholly on the dichotomy between the words on its pages and the public record of his actions? Let’s explore that.

Negotiation is based on the principle of enforcement. That is, both parties assume that once a deal is reached its provisions will be carried out to the advantage or disadvantage of each party. Without the acceptance by each side that whatever they agree to will actually be reliably maintained there is no point to the exercise.  Now, the underpinning of these guarantees can take various forms. Under the best of circumstances the honesty and mutual respect of each participant can be enough…. a simple handshake can underwrite the entire enterprise. More frequently, certainly these days, paperwork and legal strictures are required to assist good faith. But much of the time the free market and the benefits of best practices does the job.

As a businessman for near 30 years, who has done countless deals, I can tell you there are two main reasons to uphold your end of the bargain.  First, screwing clients takes a lot more time, effort and stress than keeping them happy. Second, and more importantly, if you don’t care about keeping clients satisfied securing new business becomes your principle revenue source because none of your current customers are recommending you. A very hard way to go.

Which leads us back to the myth of Trump, the great negotiator. I am a big proponent of the “two kinds of people” way of looking at things. For example, there are two types of people in the world… those that excel in english and history, and those that love math and science; ocean people and mountain people; those who live to eat and those who eat to live, etc.

In business this simplistic view would establish those that rely and trust in a handshake and a person’s word, and those more inclined to a contract and its provisions.  Trump, has become fully notorious and aptly ostracized as falling into a third, very select category: those who abide by neither, wholly untrustable by word or signature. He is in that tiny, contemptible, universally reviled sliver of a percentage who refuse to honor any agreement, no matter how broad or specific, how lax or detailed.

If one had several years to spend, they could peruse the thousands of legal actions involving Trump for breaking his word and refusing to abide by his legal obligations. Could there be a more depressing task? The stories are way too numerous of companies going under after suffering the misfortune of believing that a signed contract ensured payment in full for services rendered to Trump entities. They leveraged their business to fill an order they “won” from The Donald. They went out on a limb because they thought they had “bagged the elephant” and were heading to the next level.  They overextended themselves based on the assumption that they had come to an agreement with the great negotiator, bested the other competitors and proved themselves in his eyes, little realizing they were simply the sucker du jour.  They learned the hard way that Trump has never “negotiated” a thing… he has simply agreed to terms he never had any intention of honoring; that’s not deal making, its theft.

It is now a common truth that nary a vendor exists today stupid enough to extend the Trump Organization credit in any form; COD for any goods is now required.  This is certain verifiable fact.  There are a couple words that most always are applied to businessmen who conduct themselves this way… felon is one, bankrupt failure another. But for one notable exception, however, there is another title…. President of the United States. Cry for your country!  BC

“Governor Haley, the President wants you to come to the White House. He has reservations about the Russian sanctions. “

”Tell him that dog doesn’t hunt anymore. No more meetings alone with him. He’s disgusting. I made it clear we can talk on the phone.”

“Governor, the President is on the phone”

”Hello Mr. President, how can I help you?”

”Nikki, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me Donnie, we have history.”

“Mr. President, you chasing me around a desk isn’t history. Let’s stay professional here. You owe it to the office.”

” Look, Nikki, who could help themselves? You’re a beautiful woman for Christ’s sake! I had to move on you! You’re all I think about.”

”Er, that’s very flattering Mr. President, but we have a job to do. What’s this about you having second thoughts about the new round of sanctions I just announced?”

”Oh, Right. Listen Vicki, they won’t fly. Vla… er, I mean my gut tells me they are counterproductive. Let’s scrap em. Tell everyone you were confused.”

”Confused?! What are you talking about. We discussed everything with the General last night! This is what we agreed on! This is what I announced! I’ve been on all the Sunday shows, for God’s sake!!!”

”And you looked spectacular. Love your lips.  But this comes from the top, sweetie. They’re history. Make it happen!”

”You are the top, sir! You authorized this!”

”Listen, Mitzi, I changed my mind. Vladimir and I have an incredible summit coming up. We’re going to do great things. He says these will get in the way. I tried to convince him we had to do em, but he’s tough… former OGB, you know, man of action. I like that”

”When did you talk to him! It hasn’t been 18 hours since we settled this thing! WTF, Mr. President.”

”Special line, honey, he knows I’m always available. We’re talking peace here. Global security. Stop being a hater and debase yourself nationally. Get on the train, girl.”

”What about my credibility?! Nobody in the chamber will take me seriously! I’ve spent 15 months creating a brand… er, I mean promoting your agenda, Mr President. I can’t go back on my word. What will they call me?!”

”Indian giver?!, hee hee, Just joking dear. Besides, you don’t have to go back on your word, Sarah already put out the story…just nod that beautiful noggin of yours. Cmon, take one for the team here. I promise next time I’ll back you 100%!!! “

”What do you mean she’s already put it out?!”

”Sean’s running with it too, babe. It’s done. Might as well get your head on it, er… around it. Whatever. Listen, Nick, I want to get some golf in before I do some tweeting and pull some serious executive time. Abe is coming in and he thinks he’s so damn smart. Stresses me out. You’re doing a fantastic job; let’s have lunch… gotta go.”

”Mr. Presss… Dammit!! Not again. This is no way to conduct policy. What the hell was I thinking. Nothing is worth this. Christie is right; I can’t trust that fat ass as far as I can throw him. Bob, sanctions are off… and what about that group I’m meeting with in Iowa. Let’s get the spin going on this….” BC

 

 

I have a wonderful friend and former colleague, let’s call him Jim, in many ways a second father, who always listened and counseled me on family challenges I would confront as my kids grew. Parenting a child with autism is tough for the most enlightened, and believe me, I never claimed to be Father Knows Best.

This is a godly man, strident and sharing in his personal relationship with Christ, a devotion that seems to have always provided him with a serenity I envied. He has two fully separate families and is the type of patriarch one would surely do well to emulate. He is kind, and devoted, fully caring, a wonderful friend to have…. until you discuss current events. Suddenly a switch goes off, and his voice gets a bit more terse. When he chuckles, it is with a strain of cynicism. And when pushed for facts he feels should be self-evident, the serenity is gone, replaced by grievance and exasperation.  Sean Hannity makes it all so sensible, so easy to digest. Why can’t you see that?

I always abided Jim’s allegiance to Fox/AM, but since Inauguration we have become estranged.  I was up in Maine mourning for my nation when I saw he had posted on FB, maybe the only time he had ever done so, a few minutes after Trump’s wretched 16 minute diatribe… “So thankful for my God and country” I suppose the rapturous moment got the best of him.

Jim has reached out by phone several times, but our conversations have been brief and stilted, my patience at a premium, and his ability to make small talk sorely tested. The last time he left a voicemail I simply erased it without much thought. He is an older man, in receding if not failing health, and at some point there is no doubt I will get a call that he has passed. I have no doubt about the regret I will feel for distancing myself from him; it will haunt me, I am certain.  I accept full blame for our falling out, and feel shame for the occurance  Yet and still, I move on.

I am not narcisstic enough to believe my situation is unique. And I am neither popular enough to afford the loss of friends, nor cold enough not to suffer the void such cutting of ties leaves, but I appear unable to get past abiding allegiance to Trump and Fox/AM.  Whether that means I am simply an asshole, or actually more obliged to principle than I realized is I suppose a symptom of a society under duress, it’s patience stretched thin.

Yet and still, one thing can’t be in doubt, and if it ever does become a debatable point, our ruination will be complete… what comes out of this White House and the relentless segments on Fox and the AM dial is a Shit River of lies and distortions, in full service to a narrative founded on our worst inclinations and overtly anathema to everything I was taught to be proud of my country for. The fact that it infects most of the GOP enables a crisis that threatens a catastrophe.

I suppose if we survive this nadir in which we have allowed our governance and national political life to descend I will have to reckon with the question of whether I panicked and allowed important relationships to suffer. Whether I was the very embodiment of what I decried. But from where I sit now, as our POTUS vomits dictums to a team of cowering sycophants, and relentlessly repeats his scurrilous lies about the institutions that make our freedom possible, that will be a good problem to have, since we will still be a going concern.

I’m sorry Jim.   BC

1. When I was 7 years old my mom enrolled me in Bucky’s Boys Club, run by a very loud and energetic old man named Bucky Harris. As I acclimated my first day, there seemed to me to be a countless number of kids, many older and more assertive than me. The highlight of the afternoon was swimming in their pool, which had a diving board, something I had, believe it or not, never experienced up to that point in my young life.

Now understand that we lived only a couple of blocks from Lake Michigan, and I had already spent countless hours in the water, and assumed that I knew how to swim.  So when Bucky barked out for a division of campers into swimmers and non-swimmers, I just figured I was a swimmer even though I had never actually been in the deep end of a swimming pool. Well, we all lined up at that diving board and one by one kids, some more tentatively than others, walked the plank and jumped into the pool. As my turn approached it suddenly dawned on me that in fact I never had jumped into water over my head and I was actually clueless about the proper technique to survive what now seemed a reckless action. This realization, coupled with the anxiety being thrust into the public eye, rendered me both thoughtless and speechless as I proceeded to simply march off the board and commence drowning in front of the entire camp.

It was Bucky, himself, who actually dove in and saved my sorry ass, and as he got me out of the pool, he seemed to my pathetic eye the most pissed off human being I had ever met.  I suppose I was coughing/gagging a bit, and surely looked to be one of the lamest kids he had come across, but when he actually addressed me, it was calmly but direct. He asked me my name and I told him. Billy, he said, see what happens when you don’t tell the truth? I started to stammer that I really did know how to swim, but even to my searching 7 year old brain, the absurdity of my entreaty was evident. I vowed to myself then and there two things: 1) Learn to really frickin swim, not just in the shallows of a lake, but in water over my head; and 2) never BS when the consequences are both dire and imminently verifiable.  Anyway, I think that’s what I promised myself.

This childhood memory serves as an analogous point of departure for our current national predicament. Our POTUS knew from the minute he came down the escalator at Trump Tower to announce his candidacy ala ugly racist diatribe that he couldn’t even dog paddle his way through a policy discussion on any issue he would face. And  it was equally clear from the beginning that he didn’t give this little bump in his road to sowing chaos on the electoral process a second thought because he never dreamed he would have to jump off the diving board. Even as the other campers dove out of the race, transforming Priebus’ February declaration before the Iowa Straw Poll that there had never been such a collection of political talent into a signature example of Fox/AM delusion, Trump stayed in line for the diving board,  figuring the general election voters would surely keep him dry and safe.

From Labor Day to Election Day he ran as exactly the wretch he was, devoted only to creating the narrative to explain his landslide defeat, laying most on a “rigged system”, and a co-conspiring GOP.  He had much to look forward to after his trouncing; he would surely profit handsomely on the adulation of his wretched core base, in combination with a beautiful partnership with nihilist media, fully facilitated by Steve Bannon.

But then….. he had to jump in the pool!! And this is where we have been since last January. In the deep end, floundering and desperately awaiting our Bucky to save us. Trump thrashes about every hour, now resigned to his fate, but fully unwilling to learn any stroke that may get him to the side without causing further damage. His is a singular quest to preserve himself from the sinking ship he never wanted to captain, even as his passengers flounder helplessly, many actually abiding, even cheering his stewardship.

It is our intent to shed light on our predicament while holding vigil for Bucky to arrive, all the while conceding he may have left the building. Regardless, there is a story that matters happening right now, and we’re not going to let it play out unobserved, without at least throwing in our two cents. From Mar-A-Lago to Youngstown…. This is The Dystopia Report! BC