I suppose it would be hopelessly partisan to quote Jerry Ford and say that our long national nightmare is over, but Alan Moir (Sydney Morning Herald) cracked me up with this suggestion of the changes coming at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and the crybaby in the window wasn’t necessary but sure was a nice touch.
It fits nicely with Ed Wexler (Cagle)‘s reminder that it’s awfully foolish to trust someone who is so clearly in it for himself, particularly when he has left a path strewn with unpaid contractors and defrauded clientele.
Word is that Rudy isn’t getting paid, but, if he’s smart — that’s a big “if” — he has things budgeted with the assumption that he was going to end up one payment short.
After all, this administration began with a press conference in which it was carefully explained that governmental duties and Trump Enterprises affairs would be carefully separated, and large stacks of folders full of blank paper were offered as explanations of how serious Trump Family Grifters, LLC, were about all this.
Note the placard on that lectern: This was before we were asked to believe in the size of the inaugural crowd or that the water coming out of the sky was not rain.
(Okay, I believe that latter claim.)
Seriously, Rudy, if you thought this was going to end any other way than you standing there with your invoice in your hand, well, you shoonta.
Meanwhile, here’s another Moving Day cartoon, this from Bill Bramhall (NYDN) and this one also cracked me up, though having allowed this to go on makes it harder to justify laughing at Rudy for letting Trump run up a bill on him.
Four years of “I wonder how they’re going to straighten this out” is about three years and 11 months too much sitting back and watching.
And not only did a fair number of us believe the “Obama started it” lies, but some of us even came to believe that Democrats were eating children in the non-existent basement of a random DC pizza joint.
Which goes way, way beyond “Fool me twice.”
I’m sticking with Marc Murphy’s abuse victim metaphor from the other day: At first you think it was an accident, then you think, well, it won’t happen again, and finally it becomes so normal that you’re ashamed and blame yourself and begin to invent cover stories to avoid admitting that you are letting it happen.
Again.
And, by the way, the notion that on noon Wednesday the sun will suddenly come out and we’ll all stretch and wake up and it’ll be over is beyond naive.
For one thing, we’ve got to get those kids back home.
But we’ve also got a little national PTSD among some folks and a bit of psychotic delusion among others and plenty to deal with before our long national nightmare is over.
In large part because it wasn’t a nightmare: It all really happened.
Juxtaposition of the Day
I’m not sure why Ramirez thinks Twitter is flaming out and crashing, though perhaps it is because Trump is no longer there. I saw a report that, in the wake of Dear Leader’s ban from social media, the flow of false information has gone down by 70-some percent, but I’d like a deeper inspection of the methodology on that.
However, the fact that Twitter and Facebook have both instituted a more rigorous purging of phony accounts and accounts that spread disinformation and advocate violence has apparently caused a lot of prominent conservatives to lose large numbers of followers, and they’re not happy about it.
Which is like a company that makes iron lungs and leg braces mourning the development of the Salk Vaccine: I understand the sense of loss but I’m having trouble feeling terribly sympathetic.
As for Dear Leader no longer having a way to communicate with the public, I’d direct your attention to that photograph above: There is still such a thing as a press conference, though, granted, if you say something stupid and clearly untrue in front of a roomful of reporters, someone is apt to question it.
But Trump can get tips from a succession of his spokesmodels who perfected the technique of feigning offense and stomping off in high dudgeon. It’s easier than bringing in a helicopter to drown out the questions.
Stiglich brings up a different aspect of the social media crackdown: Trump and others have been first suspended, then banned, for repeatedly spreading misinformation.
Would that include accusing Democrats of lying about the 2020 elections?
Can you prove that his cartoon is “misinformation”? You can certainly cite the number of investigations into the election that have failed to turn up any substantive errors, and point out the utter and complete failure of any Trump supporters to provide any credible scrap of evidence of fraud or error.
But that’s like “proving” that we landed on the Moon. We have video, we have rock samples, we have the word of the astronauts, but were you there? Huh? Okay then.
Social media is full of allegations that the Moon landing was a sham, and social media will never succeed in wiping out claims that the 2020 elections were fixed.
Or that Elvis is alive and well and just turned 86.
My sister’s next-door neighbor’s cousin knows a guy who can prove it.
Meanwhile, on a related note
Facebook took down this Chris Britt (Creators) cartoon. He was furious, but, alas, I can see why it happened.
The point of the cartoon — that Jim Jordan is enjoying the violence, chaos and hatred — is far too buried to be obvious, and satire that is not obvious is easy for people to misinterpret.
It’s a lesson most of us in the business learn the hard way.
If he’d drawn Jordan large and in the foreground, perhaps with a word balloon saying, “I’m Jim Jordan and I approve this message,” it would have sailed through untouched.
At which point only a few hundred readers would have still missed the point anyway.
It’s an occupational hazard.
For political songwriters, too. Ask this guy:
My friend Google tells me “shoonta is a member of GameKiller – Game Hacking & Cheating Community” and also a place in Australia. The first one sort of jibes with Rudy.
You shoonta bovered.
I love the cartoon they get right to the point