Innocuous Inoculations, Anyone?

There needs to be a show of faith regarding the vaccine R and D’ers, who, to date, have discovered three efficacious, innocuous inoculations; all fully capable of halting, dead in its tracks, the rampaging coronavirus.

After all, it’d be highly unlikely that ethical experts, such as Dr. Anthony Fauci, would ever intentionally BS us re this literal life and death matter. After all, for them to do so would run the grave risk of sickening and/or deep-sixing the first expected vaccine recipients; namely:

The very hospital personnel, who are so desperately fighting, 24/7, on the COVID-19 frontlines.

Naturally, we’d be far more trusting souls, were America’s heading for the exit signs prez not an unscrupulous psychopath and pathological liar. His debilitating mental illnesses have been manifesting themselves in our own symptomology; inclusive of our difficult to fight off skepticism and trepidation.

Alas, the most efficacious, innocuous inoculation against the Disease of Deceit has yet to be discovered. So far, social distancing and isolating from sicko political wannabes, doth remain our best defense.

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Goodbye! GET LOST!

Donald J. Trump has been experiencing hallucinations; the strange voices, within his noggin, which delude him into the belief that he’s been denied a second term due to “widespread voter fraud”.

Nope, not even for a nanosecond, would he ever consider that his loss, in part, is due to his own monumental incompetence and contemptible conduct. To flesh that out, his abject negligence, re COVID-19 containment, has, SO FAR, caused over 263,000 people to die on his watch.

Indeed, just about all that’s rattling around within his mucked up head is his stop, at nothing, compulsion to reinstall his Fascist régime EITHER for four more years OR for forever (likely the latter). He’s even been making highly irrational and illegal demands that Michigan trash multiple millions of legally cast ballots; inclusive of mine.

However, our bipartisan State Board of Canvassers had a far better idea. Just yesterday, in a move that was tantamount to swatting his grubby, power grabbing paws and admonishing not so fast you effing Fascist, they voted to certify our 2020 election results:

  • Joe Biden / Kamala Harris = 2,804,040 • 50.6%
  • Donald Trump/Mike Pence = 2,649,852 • 47.8%

And that simultaneously secures our state’s 16 electoral votes for Biden / Harris and submerges subversive Trump.

As a lifelong Michigan resident and nearly half century long registered voter, I take pride in how my cast ballot, along with the 2,804,039 others, have helped empower the Biden / Harris team. And that could not have proved a more timely, more powerful statement, too!

It also pleases me, no end, that Michigan has played such a pivotal role in shutting down despotic Donald’s (attempted) nationwide ballot box coup d’état!

In the larger sense, We the People, who know what the Real America is all about, at least for the time being, have managed to stare down and halt Fascism; dead in its tracks!

Albeit 3 weeks late, let the transition from depravity to decency rock ‘n’ roll!

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Bye-Bye Bygone Blessed Bliss

Our clip, above and offsite, features Bob Dylan’s released on March 27, 2020, composition, Murder Most Foul; his lyrical assessment of American culture and, of course, the John F. Kennedy assassination; the shots heard around the world, on this very day in 1963. I’ve linked us to detailed accounts of this tragic event, which had influenced the songsmith’s lyrical analysis.

My having witnessed, in real time, the disturbing, gruesome reportage “hemorrhaging” from Dealey Plaza / Dallas TX to my family’s Black and White Zenith™ TV, I can say, with certainty, that assassin had not only shot JFK, he had also blown away my childhood; i.e., my blessed, blissful naiveté.

And tears still welled up my decades older eyes, today, as I reviewed the clip, below, and offsite.

Yep, I had been forced to grow up way too soon; in real time, too; so much so that as my glance averted from that bygone television screen to the living room window; to behold the daylight dissolving into the literal and metaphorical darkness, I wound up concluding:

America will never be the same, again!

Quite the pessimistic (albeit prescient) assessment from a once-upon-a-time, carefree boy, huh?

Regrettably, my prediction of America’s demise has been coming true, too.

Post JFK, a hefty percent of the contemporary American electorate no longer expects excellence in governance; has actually begun to bank on mediocrity; so much so they routinely embrace and empower crooks, cronies and crazies. With many a régime change, we’ve been witnessing an increasingly perilous procession of un-presidential profligates.

Of course, there have been two notable exceptions, namely, the learned and honorable Presidents Jimmy Carter and Barack Obama.

Hmm, were there such a thing as locatable, alternate realities, it would not be surprising to discover one where JFK had survived; where an alternate electorate had never, ever installed Donald J. Trump; where Americans would’ve booed and hissed at the mere whiff of that asshat and aspiring Fascist; so much so that, back in 2015, he’d have promptly done an about face and scampered back up that downward moving escalator.

Hmm, considering how words such as “promptly” and “scampered” would hardly describe Donny, in any reality, that certainly would’ve been a rare treat to behold!

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Rejected Final Jeopardy! Clue

Final Jeopardy! Category:
White House High Tech

Inspired by the film Animal House’s hazing scene,
this current Artificial Intelligence, voice synthesizer
generated quip oft emanates from the Oval Office
gold-plated commode, once Trump’s rump is seated.

What is “Thank you, Sir, may I have another?”

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View Hazing Scene

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ER RN Jodi Doering’s Frank Talk

“CNN’s Alisyn Camerota speaks with Jodi Doering, a nurse from South Dakota who says some of her coronavirus patients often don’t want to believe that Covid-19 is real, even in their dying moments.”

Clip and blurb courtesy of CNN • Nov 16, 2020 • 717,337 views

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ER RN Jodi Doering’s frank discussion with CNN’s Alisyn Camerota focuses upon a flawed, fractured societal attitude that, to say the least, is worrisome.

To say more, cult leader Donald J. Trump and suck-up apprentices, such as South Dakota Governor Kristi Noem, are both guilty of downplaying the ferociously contagious, deadly Corona-V; so much so, that they’ve totally mucked up their susceptible, submissive and subversive devotees’ heads.

It should come as no big surprise that gullible Trumpers adamantly refuse to mask-up to prevent the spread of COVID-19; a disease, which, in error, they either don’t believe exists or that they equate with a case of the sniffles.

While, in theory, it would still be possible for the soon-to-be President Joe Biden and Vice President Kamala Harris to take a crack at ending the pandemic, such an attempt would require the co-operation of everyone. However, considering the hopelessly brainwashed individuals they’ll need to contend with, just how, pray tell, will they ever work that miracle?

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Premonition? Reality?

Just prior to high noon, come January 20, 2021, we eyewitness the desperately clinging to power, Donald J. Trump, in the midst of, yet, another of his ferocious, rampaging, psychotic episodes. He’s pumped up on both Rx’d and ill-gotten, industrial strength narcotics, too. That harmful drug interaction’s side effects include split personality, superhuman strength and anal leakage.

In that incapacity, international terrorist Donald bin Laden, has crapped his pants while repurposing the resolute desk, furniture, assorted statuary, bric-a-brac, etc. to barricade all ingress to the Oval Office. He’s now taken to Twitter to Tweet out his odious terms and threat:

“If Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts does not administer the Oath of Office to ME, instead of Joe Biden; if the hugest Inauguration Day audience, ever, is not raucously chanting ‘Twenty-Four More Years’ and Sieg Heil’, I’ll launch the nukes and mushroom cloud the entire freakin’ world.”

At that horrific juncture, the Secret Service tacticians will be convening an emergency staff meeting to weigh their options. Little doubt, at the very least, there’ll be two game plans on the table.

PLAN A: Sever all of Donny’s links to the outside world, break out the battering ram, storm into the Oval Office and bark out the ultimatum:

“Listen up scum wad! EITHER we’ll drag you out kicking and screaming OR you can salvage what little is left of your self-respect and permit us to promptly frogmarch you off the premises and into the dumpster of history.”

PLAN B (Phase 1): Have Donny’s best buddy, TV’s propaganda minister Sean Hannity, talk him down. With bullhorn in hand, he’ll cajole the fake prez into granting entry to a Judge Roberts doppelgänger, who’ll inform him that a chauffeur driven, armor-plated stretch limo (well-stocked with his all-time, fave fast food), is parked out front to whisk them both off to the National Mall. En route, the fake prez will pig out on Egg McMuffins, Big Macs, Filet-O-Fish sandwiches and wash it all down with a supersized, Diet Coke (spiked with a powerful animal tranquilizer).

PLAN B (Phase 2): Once groggy Donny comes to, he’ll be locked up within a maximum security, mental institution; a perfect White House replica. It’ll then be incumbent on faux Roberts to duly warn Trump that a sudden, climate change fueled tempest has rendered the windswept, rain-soaked Inaugural site an inundated disaster area. VainMan Trump, facing down the prospect of a bad hair day, little doubt, will become amenable to taking his Oath of Office right within the Oval Office; especially when reassured that the television camera will be beaming and streaming the proceedings, worldwide, to an audience numbered in the billions.

PLAN B (Phase 3): From that day onward, Trump will be fed a steady diet of fake news, e.g., [1] all the world leaders have relinquished their power to him; have pledged their undying, unconditional subservience, [2] all 7.8 billion souls, worldwide have also pledged their everlasting devotion [3] the U.S. Constitution has been stuffed into the shredder, [4] Pope Francis has declared him God and [5] owing to a gaggle of moonlighting, Operation Warp Speed, white lab coated medicos, he has attained immortality.

ALL PLANS NIXED: In reality, Donald J. Trump will establish a new platform / network from which to launch his shadow presidency; for the express purpose of exacting revenge via his sabotage of Joe Biden’s best efforts to end the pandemic, climate change, systemic racism, misogyny, homophobia, inequality, poverty, etc.

The End

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A Clearheaded Bird’s-Eye View

Mere moments ago, courtesy of a YouTube introduction, they opened my ears to SongBird, who has alighted on a branch that’s gently swaying in the winds of change. Thanks to the Interwebs, she is now omnipresent; perched outside ALL of our Windows.

For the benefit of all concerned souls, her joyous song, Let it Go, resolutely reassures us that there’s still hope for America; our home world.

Let’s all revel in her oh so delightful warbling, bask in her clearheaded message that refutes the temperamental Twittering Trump’s unTrue Tweets that he still rules the roost; rejoice in her tough love approach of informing Tweety that he must now [1] accept responsibility for all of his foul words and deeds, [2] concede he lost, [3] promptly molt his business suit, [4] test flap his political wings and [5] prepare to fly south for the winter where he must winter within his Mar-a-Lago gilded cage, forevermore.

Most assuredly, Tweety should feel damned lucky that, at least for the moment, he won’t be facing down the retribution that transcends the voters’ legally cast ballots, which have booted him out of his DC nest. Were justice to ever prevail, that li’l birdbrain would get ensnared in the legal system’s punishment, that is due him, for flagrantly flipping the bird at the laws of God and (wo)man.

Indeed, were fair play truly in play, it’d be high time for that birdbrain to become a jailbird; for dud orange Don to don orange duds!

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Laypersons’ Interventions

Preface: Anecdotal accounts claim Donald J. Trump’s family is going the intervention route to get him to admit that he lost; convince him to vamoose when Joe Biden’s moving vans start rolling up at the White House, come January. While those who’ve earned PhD’s in psychiatry could certainly get ‘er done, I do believe even laypersons, drawing on common sense, could reap the same results. My faith in non-professional interventions stems from the following account.

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Eons ago, during my retail clerking days, a shopper stopped in one early afternoon (let’s refer to her as “Jane”). Seeing how the young woman’s anxiety was just as noticeable as her unusual attire (unbelted, slightly open trench coat, flannel pajamas and fuzzy bedroom slippers) to say the least, I was not waiting on the average, everyday customer.

Trying my best to remain non-judgmental, nonetheless, my mind hunted for plausible explanations. Perhaps Jane had just narrowly escaped an apartment fire with only the clothes on her back?

Well, one thing was certain, she was ISO clothing that’d make her less conspicuous. While our product line could not offer her any footwear, I did walk her thru our women’s department and encouraged her to feel free to browse at her leisure.

As she shopped, I’d occasionally return to carry her selections off to a fitting room. During her hour long try on session, I kept on relaying her keepers up to the cash wrap. All the while, I was sensing a growing rapport; i.e., in my treating Jane normally she began acting more normally.

However, towards the end of her shopping experience, her worried expression suddenly returned. She asked, “Would you take an I.O.U.?”

I nonchalantly replied that this was not an available payment option, but quickly added that I’d be happy to put her selections on a three day hold; no deposit required. She then responded, “Hold my stuff till closing time, If I don’t return by then, I won’t be coming back.” The finality of her words were now filling me with anxiety.

I wondered if I could’ve done something more to help Jane? Or, would my good intentioned meddling have only made matters worse?

To ensure Jane’s return would also go smoothly, I recounted all the above to my superior (let’s refer to her as “Ruth”). After all, the worst thing that could’ve happened was for my boss and/or co-workers to upset her.

Well, it was about five minutes prior to closing time when the itching to get home Ruth ordered me to return Jane’s held selections to the selling floor.

As you may have already guessed, four minutes later, Jane returned.

Ruthless Ruth officiously, tactlessly and needlessly reminded her that it was a minute before closing time. That’s when I rushed up to welcome Jane and reassure her that, while her clothes were no longer on hold, I could quickly relocate all the items. And while my words calmed Jane a bit, they also pissed off Ruth a lot.

A moment later, while I was ringing up Jane’s purchase, Ruth kept glowering at Jane and breathing down my neck; whined on and on and on about it now being past closing time. I felt like turning around to blurt out “Ruth, will you please shut the F up?”; but bit my tongue.

Jane paid in cash and, other than being upset by Ruth, I do believe my empathy, professionalism and intervention skills had calmed and served Jane well.

We can only hope there’ll be a similar outcome to that White House intervention.

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Lumbering Off to Mar-a-Lago?

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Donald J. Trump could still reach into his bag of dirty tricks, one last time, to defy the will of the majority of American voters, who ousted him at the ballot box. How would his machinations go down?

Well, for starters, he’d ratchet up his rabble rousing efforts; further inflame the preexisting, psychotic passions of millions of his minions; enraged cultists all, who are already protesting, on his behalf, against essential Liberty and Democracy.

Seeing how too damned many of Donny’s subversives are also itchy trigger fingered, armed to the teeth domestic terrorists, sooner than we could utter, “Civil War”, we’d be witness to its endless battlefield carnage.

At that juncture, Trump would simply sit back on his Fascist fanny and laugh his rump off. He’d feel enraptured, too; mainly because civil unrest, of that magnitude, would instantly afford him HIS perfect excuse to maintain his chokehold on power.

Via his declaration of Martial Law, he’d mothball the U.S. House of Representatives and Senate and postpone, indefinitely, Inauguration Day.

But, would tyrant Trump really be getting the last laugh?

Would Joe Biden even need to take his Oath of Office at the U.S. Capitol building? Could he not be sworn in anywhere? It’s true! As a nine-year-young boy, right on my TV, I watched Lyndon B. Johnson being sworn in aboard Air Force One; on 11/22/1963, the day of the John F. Kennedy assassination.

Seems to me that Biden, too, could be sworn in, oh, say, right at his humble home. And, from that point onward, he could carry out his presidential duties, straight from the resolute desk within his den; oh, say, over Zoom?

If there’s one thing Donny’s DIY pandemic has taught us all, one’s workplaces can materialize wherever / whenever needed.

Of course, Commander-In-Chief Biden would need to cover all bases, too; e.g., order the troops to cut off Donny’s supply lines, electrical power and, most importantly of all, sever every last damned White House, communication link to the outside world.

It would not be a bad idea to leave Donny a furled white flag on the welcome mat, too.

After all, once depraved Donny is deprived of his flat screen TV, Twitter / Internet connection and steady diet of fattening fast food, he’d soon be waving the flag of surrender and wind up lumbering off to Mar-a-Lago.

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Donny Didn’t Have a Prayer

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Obviously, presidential spiritual adviser Paula White’s impassioned prayer service, for the express purpose of snagging Donald J. Trump a second term, did not work. Perhaps the pacing back and forth dude distracted her?

Methinks she should’ve attempted an exorcism, instead; you know, to chase off Donny’s demons; namely, his pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy and sloth.

Demonstrably, she has missed her true calling, too. Think about it, folks. Minus her speaking in tongues shtick, she could’ve easily had a promising career as a baseball home plate umpire. I mean, have you ever heard anyone saying “strike” with better conviction and diction?

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