CSotD: Strange Days Have Found Us
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The breaking news this morning is that the Syrian government has fallen and Bashar Assad has disappeared. Steve Brodner marks the moment by remembering that Tulsi Gabbard, who is not at all a Russian asset, visited the Russian-backed dictator in 2017, to the distress of The Syrian American Council.
She explained the trip to Jake Tapper:
When asked by Tapper whether she had reservations about meeting with Assad, who is responsible for the deaths of hundreds of thousands of Syrian civilians, Gabbard said there has to be a dialogue between the US and Syria.
“Whatever you think about President Assad, the fact is that he is the president of Syria,” she said. “In order for any peace agreement, in order for any possibility of a viable peace agreement to occur there has to be a conversation with him.”
And whatever you think about Tulsi Gabbard, the fact is that she’s poised to oversee our intelligence community.
Which is probably okay, because while the United Steelworkers Union is only just finding out what we’ve gotten into, the rest of the world seems to have pretty clear focus.
For instance, Trump and his minions have openly speculated about making Canada the 51st state, which, as David Horsey notes, would cut off an escape route for West Coasters.
However, it shouldn’t surprise the Canadians, because it’s not the first time some rightwing lunatic has made the proposal, though it’s the first time — at least since James Madison — that the would-be imperialist was in the White House as president and not just as a deranged speechwriter.
I wrote a column about Pat Buchanan’s screwball concept back in 1990 and, looking it over, found that I could have compressed it all to one paragraph that still works today:
Biggest change in the intervening 34 years is that Steve Bannon and Alex Jones have proven that you don’t need to comb your hair or wear a suit and tie to be taken seriously, while Dear Leader has proven that it doesn’t much help, either.
As Patrick Chappatte notes, Dear Leader attended the re-opening of Notre Dame Cathedral, where he attempted to break Macron’s hand with a mighty handshake and generally enjoyed upstaging anyone he could get near.
He ran into Prince William and said the prince was “doing a fantastic job,” though he didn’t explain what job that was. Cutting the ribbon at new shopping centers? Waiting for his father to die? Fantastic!
Social media exploded with people noting that both men are reported to be 6’3″ and yet don’t appear to be the same height. They were apparently shocked to suspect that Dear Leader may have been lying about his dimensions, though we went through all this back when he reported himself to be the same height and weight as Lamar Jackson.
However, the Supreme Court has ruled that the President is whatever height and weight he claims to be. Perhaps Prince William is 6’8″ and just very modest about it.
Harry Burton picks up on the idea that Trump might not have fully grasped why everyone had gathered there. He may have wondered when the football game would start.
After all, December 7 reminded several people that, when Dear Leader visited Pearl Harbor, he had to ask General Kelly what had happened there.
Perhaps he hadn’t seen the re-enactment.
And speaking of silly movies, Glen Le Lievre suggests that adorable Quasimodo and his gargoyle buddies would be pleased with the restoration, but that’s Disney’s Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Hugo’s novel was Notre Dame de Paris and while Quasimodo is significant in the story, he’s not — whatever Hollywood and Disney have told you — at its center. The cathedral is, in a literal, geographic sense, and it’s quite a good read but you have to wade through a lot of architecture to get to the action.
Juxtaposition of the Day
To be fair, Ramirez released his cartoon immediately after the shooting of UnitedHealth CEO Brian Thompson, while Bagley’s came out after the fury exploded on social media.
As I said the other day, I recognize that any man’s death diminishes me, but the stories of people who died, or nearly did, because an insurance company turned down their treatment are also stories of people whose deaths should diminish us all.
The NY Post reports that the police have identified the killer, but the mayor says they are not releasing his name, saying it would be giving a tip to the person they’re seeking.
I don’t get it. Either they’re hoping he’s hoping they got the wrong guy — despite having a picture of him, his DNA and his backpack, which surely bears some fingerprints — or they’re hoping he doesn’t know his own name and they don’t want him to find it out.
But, of course, the mayor has to show that they’re making a bigger effort to find this guy than they do when some minimum wage peasant gets gunned down.
There are, predictably, a lot of trolls-without-souls online glorifying the murder but I think they’re somewhat balanced by pontificating ivory tower columnists who are scolding people for not being in deep mourning over the death.
In the middle is a caldron of fury, and if the ruling class wants everybody to shut up, they should, first, examine the anger and find out why people are reacting the way they are and then consider addressing those issues — with more than thoughts and prayers — so that the peasantry will properly mourn the next oligarch’s murder.
Perhaps they don’t teach Tale of Two Cities at Harvard and Yale.
It was the best of times for nobility, the worst of times for children run over by carriages.
Monsieur the Marquis ran his eyes over them all, as if they had been mere rats come out of their holes.
He took out his purse.
“It is extraordinary to me,” said he, “that you people cannot take care of yourselves and your children. One or the other of you is for ever in the way. How do I know what injury you have done my horses. See! Give him that.”
He threw out a gold coin for the valet to pick up, and all the heads craned forward that all the eyes might look down at it as it fell.
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