That Didn’t Take Long
So, the Incompressible Jizztrumpet reboot lasted…well, I’m not saying you need femtosecond-accuracy here, but not long, brothers and sisters. Not long.
“If she gets to pick her judges,” Trump said, “nothing you can do, folks. Although the Second Amendment people, maybe there is.”
To put that into the plainest of terms: the nominee of one of the two major parties in the United States just said that if his opponent were to win, then she could — and by context, should — face armed rebellion. (ETA: this could as easily be read as a call for assassination.)
That, my friends, is John Calhoun’s dumber younger brother, up on his hind legs, urging his supporters to follow General Pickett’s division up the ridge, (ETA: or, perhaps, to attempt a little John Wilkes Booth action) in pursuit of the same end as the party of treason sought 150 years ago: the destruction of the American Republic.
It would make me yet more furious, except that it does appear that Trump knows, or embodies his Karl Marx: first time tragedy, second time (tragic) farce.
In any event, we now have yet further proof of the obvious: there is no “presidential” Trump. There is only the same Cheeto-faced, ferret-wearing shitgibbon we’ve come to know and loathe.
Image: Anthony Palamades, An Officer Blowing a Trumpet, first half of the seventeenth century.