Because if it’s Sunday, it’s Meet The Press
I was 12 years old a half a century ago, the last time my Kansas City Chiefs played in a Super Bowl, so you know where I’m going to be at 3:30 PST tomorrow. But I’m going to be just as glued to the set tomorrow morning for the Sunday morning blatherfests, because as Teri likes to say, Dis gwan be sum fun, choo bet!
See, the GOP’s shit is all fucked up, and it’s fucked up for every right reason that I can think of. It’s fucked up because the Democratic House vase managers did their job. They put on an airtight case over three days painting a masterpiece of evidence, testimony, logic, and timelines that chained Trump to the crime the way that you chain a pit bull out in the back yard so he can’t get at the kids.
And the Republican defense knew it too. Why do you think that they kept sending Patrick Philbin out there to answer every question. None of them wanted their names, voices, and faces tied to this steaming pile of shit. The old rule is if the law is against you, argue the facts. If the facts are against you, argue the law. And if the law and the facts are against you, yell and pound the table. But the Republican lawyers couldn’t argue at all, because they had another rule cast upon them by Emperor Numbus Nuttus. Thou shalt not doubt! No, it was a perfect call, under perfect circumstances, by a perfect President, and we’re in a perfect world. Only Alan Dirtyshitz dared to try that on the floor, and he came off looking like a perfect fucking idiot.
We’ve all known all along that the GOP Senates defense, if not His Lowness, was that maybe it wasn’t a perfect call, but the result didn’t reach the level of a high crime or misdemeanor. And we all kept waiting for somebody to make that argument, but it never came. And so it fell to poor old Lamar Alexander, addled, fed up, and on his way out the door to finally say what needed to be said, although maybe a wee more succinctly than the GOP might have hoped, I don’t need to see or hear anymore, cuz it’s obvious. We Republicans have another Nixon on our hands, just another cheap crook! But don’t look to me to do anything about it, I ain’t that stupid!
See, this is a problem for the Republican Senate. It was bad enough when they knew that everybody on the planet who isn’t named Trump knows that he’s guilty. But up to a certain point they could plod along, blaming the process, and avoiding the 600 lb orangutan in the room. But once Alexander came right out and said it, that time was over. After all, if everybody already knew it, and Alexander said it, they’d look pretty fucking stupid saying that Alexander was full of shit, even for Republican Senators.
We’ve already seen the first fallout. Li’l Marco from Florida, remember him? Yeah, the one who drinks water like your two year old with his Tommee Tippee cup. He said something along the lines that even if Trump did it, that didn’t necessarily mean that he should be removed from office. No, actually shit-for-brains, that’s exactly what it means. As a juror who has sworn an oath, once the prosecution proves its case, the only thing you can do is to vote to convict him. That’s the pristine beauty of the box you morons have been locked in. You’re being forced to admit his guilt, and good luck trying to justify to your constituents and the country why you won’t vote to convict him.Especially when polling shows that 71% of Americans can admit that he broke the law.
The real reason that the Sunday morning talk shows tomorrow are going to be so much fun to watch is that the entire dynamic of the experience has shifted for the GOP Senators and Trump’s shills. Up until now, they walked on the set to talk to an audience of one, El Pendejo Presidente. But not tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, and going on for weeks to come, the GOP Senators especially are going to have to split their attention, and their bullshit. They are going to have to try to do everything in their power to placate Donnie Depends, and yet find a way to explain away this very simple contradiction of fact and reason to their constituents. Rubio already tried that, and failed miserably. It will be interesting to see which, if any Senators are able to walk between the urinals and not get their shoes soaked.
Because vengeance is going to swift and vicious. When my kids were young, I had a favorite saying I’d recite when they did something dumb, You buy ’em shoes, you dress ’em up nice, you give ’em a good breakfast, you send ’em off to school, and wadda they do? They eat the covers offa the friggin’ books! And right now, the Toddler in Chief has gotta be gnawing through KFC buckets like the wood chipper in Fargo. Traitor Tot had two simple, non negotiable demands for Moscow Mitch. He wanted a victory lap with The Manatee on FOX before the Super Bowl, and he wanted an hour to piss all over Madame Speaker and her caucus in their own House. And he’s going to get neither of those. Which means that he’s going to be sitting there in his Gucci boxers, with his Christian Dior robe on, fuming in front of the television set and consuming the talk shows. And there isn’t a single thing that any of those Senators can say that will make it aww better for poor widdle Donnie, but everything to make it worse. The tweets alone should look like Godzilla laying waste to Tokyo.
So yes, I’m looking forward with great anticipation to the Super Bowl tomorrow, but I’m looking forward to the morning talk shows as well. because these sniveling, spineless, whining little GOP toadies made their beds long ago. And now they can shut up, lay back, and enjoy the bedbug bites. Go Chiefs!
‘To know the future, look to the past.before the insanity of the 2020 election, relive the insanity of the 2016 GOP primary campaign, and the general election, to see how we got to where we are. Copies of President Evil, and the sequel, President Evil II, A Clodwork Orange are available as e-books on Amazon, at the links above. Catch up before the upcoming release of the third book in the trilogy, President Evil III: All The Presidents Fen