Donald Trump (via Kellyanne Conway, I’m sure) has decided that a final burst of fire with a new load will carry him over the top. A typical liberal scam of offering money for working mothers is the new load. A typical, liberal wad with powder and noise but nothing being ejected save the dirty burnt wad. And of course it will be paid for by eliminating fraud, waste, etc. (yeah, right). Add it to wall-building, emigrating immigrants (illegal ones) and making America great again and Boom! The hill is taken. The Democrats lick their wounds, Hillary (the ghost candidate; herself a blank wad apart from her Capone-like fanatics) leaves town for Chappaqua, Chicago, Arkansas (hell! who knows) and retires with her 200 million dollar retirement plan. She sits (or collapses) around with her grandchildren and Bill goes through his half of the 200 mil, spending it on massive amounts of Viagra and whoopee.
But Mr. Trump is just the same song with the ten thousandth verse: Another Republican (who contemporary Republicans hate for opposing reasons that their grandfathers hated Barry Goldwater) who stops a moment to show himself as a veiled FDR ideologue for those things that really, really, really will help the people-in-need-of-something in order to pull in the extreme-idiot wing of the Democrats who really do believe that printed money is real money.
Not that it matters to me: I have no intension of voting for Trump nor Hillary; neither Johnson nor that gal doctor Jill Whats-her-name. But it is a curiosity every election to watch candidates in the so-called “party system” (never has been a good idea) try to claim one thing in grand principle, then lean over and attempt to pick off something from a rival in order to pull in votes they would not otherwise get. Note that when the Republicans were fighting tooth and nail against Obamacare, they claimed it was a concept that would be the end of medical care forever for our great land! However, since it passed, virtually every Republican to a man has spewed the enlightened pronouncement “repeal and replace!” Replace? With what? More printed money?
Sadly, Ted Cruz sits in a corner somewhere banished with not a friend in the Senate—lo! not a friend in Washington the media tells us (For those reasons alone I love the man). The one man who has demonstrated a notch of character and people timidly watch and listen as the race to be the “Leader of the Free World” comes around the far turn waiting to see who will lie the least. Conservatives, liberals–baloney: political hacks, hay burners. However, another bale of hay for Trump’s working mothers may get him across the finish line as the winner. Then, as back in the days of Nixon, we will see some real government growth.
Phyllis Schlafly, who performed in the contemporary incarnation of Joan of Arc, i.e. she led men to be men and women to be women endorsed Trump “…we’ve been following the losers for so long — now we’ve got a guy who’s going to lead us to victory.” Far be it of me to critique Mrs. Schlafly’s consideration of a candidate. But when somebody starts talking about empowering the federal (not really) government to help working mothers you can be sure there is blue mold on the tobacco leaf.
Too late we learned that, economically, Kennedy was the conservative, Nixon the liberal. My personal hope is that all four candidates lose and there is no president for four years. Then perhaps Congress will do the job the Constitution requires it to do instead of spending our money on voters’ votes and their time raising money to get reelected and retire to raise more money as lobbyists. Sadly, that isn’t going to happen and either “The Donald” or “The Hillary” will win and come January make a typical vainglorious speech captured with volumes of manure del Toro (for our illegal immigrants).
There is a very old joke where the prissy gentleman walks up to the bar and orders a very dry martini with a twist. A moment later an iron worker walks in off the job and orders a double whiskey and a beer chaser. The gent lights an expensive Cuban cigar, the iron worker fires up a Lucky Strike. The gent observes the dirty iron worker with his grub and dirt, his sweat-soaked shirt with a slight bouquet of B.O. With a quick sip of Beefeater and Vermouth the gent, with his nose lifted slightly says: “‘Cleanliness is next to godliness’–John Wesley.” The iron worker turning up the shot glass, then washing it down with a swallow of suds, says, “‘F***you!’–Tennessee Williams.”
No, I’m not going to conclude that the prissy gentleman is Hillary, and Donald is the iron worker. As far as I am concerned they are both smoking Cubans and drinking martinis. I am the iron worker.