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TODAY!TODAY!TODAY! January 25, 2021 "Equal and Opposite Reactions" by Patti Liszkay is FREE! FREE! FREE! on Amazon Kindle http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa  OH, THE LETTERS WE WROTE! A cold, overcast January day, still deep in the depths of the pandemic and still sheltering in place at home against it,  ...and yet still feeling some good "out with the old, in with the new," vibes,  ...made today feel like as good a day as any for digging into a some "out with the old" activity around the house. Thus my mate, Tom, decided to finally give the heave-ho to boxes of old letters and other odds and ends that had been taking up space in our basement for years. Make that decades.   And yet, in going through this stuff he did come across some old gems that, while mayhaps not to be saved, were worth one last look, one last smile, one last memory.  Among said gems were a card some friend sent Tom almost fifty years ago,  ...with a punch line so naughty that I dasn't share it, however proving that we Baby Boomers could rock a dirty joke back in our day. There was this picture dated 1977 of Tom and I as newlyweds in front of our first apartment in Louisville, Kentucky,  ...and also from that era was a copy of this funny poem styled after "The Night Before Christmas" that a couple of my co-workers at the University of Louisville Archives and Records Center composed on the joys of being archivists.  Here was a birthday card made by my daughter Maria when she was about two or three years old.   ...and the response I received from the White House to a letter I wrote to President Kennedy when I was ten years old,   ...back in the days when I went by Patsy Ann I looked like this:  ...and before I'd ditched that awful moniker (see post from 1/30/2014, "I'll Tell Ya What's In A Name!) There was a letter I sent to Tom shortly before we were married when he was in grad school in Louisville and I was living at home with my parents, in which I wrote that it was almost midnight and I was waiting up for my mom. One of my siblings' friends had called my mom earlier asking her to come over because the friend's mother hadn't eaten in three days (This was before the word "depression" was common - or so well understood - in our vocabulary). My mom being a nurse - not to mention the kindest, most helpful of people - neighbors in need often called on her. So many memories come to life from these old words on these worn sheets of paper. It was amazing how much we all wrote to each other back in those days. All the words we wrote, all the stationary, envelopes and stamps we ran through, how we loved to communicate. Whether in oceans of thoughts written on page after page of beautiful high-stock writing paper, or in a few quick few words penned on a lined sheet torn from a spiral note pad, how we loved to send and receive letters! Now, I'm not saying that I yearn to go back to the days before we were in constant communication with each other via cell phone, text, email, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, et al. But it was nice to spend an afternoon reminiscing about those days. 
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 Love is a physics experiment gone crazy "Equal and Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888 HATS OFF ― AND MITTENS ON ― TO BERNIE! The first day of the Biden Presidency was inarguably a beautiful day,  ...that began with bright sunshine and cerulean blue skies over the Capitol city,  ...followed by song,  ...poetry,  ...moments of hope,  ...and inspiration,  ...and something that was not once in four years given to us by the Trump Administration or anyone associated with it: A good laugh.  Senator Bernie Sanders and his now famous mittens, caught in a pose christened Grumpy Chic, has the whole nation chuckling. Americans everywhere have been greatly enjoying the endless Bernie in His Mittens memes and photoshops that have sprung up all over the internet and continue to proliferate,    ...my personal favorites being these two:   ...and this one, shopped by one of my kids, of my sister, my daughter, my grandchildren, and Bernie.  Now, when I say that we never got a good laugh from the Trump Administration, I don't mean to say that we never got any laughs at all. Sure, there was plenty of comedy generated by the sometimes terrible antics of Trump and his entourage.         In fact, the one benefit of the Trump Administration was that it ushered in a golden age of political satire. But the wealth of satire inspired by Donald Trump and those who served him was in effect ridicule of their vices, exposition of their corruption, criticism of their wrong-doing. It was humor born of outrage. It was comedy to assuage our depression. It promoted laughter to keep us from crying. But that wasn't good laughter. It wasn't nice laughter. Or kind laughter. It wasn't happy laughter. And it was in no way laughter born from affection for its subject, as is the laughter we're all sharing now over the viral spin-offs of Bernie in his Mittens. A few days ago New York Time columnist Thomas L. Friedman wrote, "The most striking feature of Trump’s presidency was that year after year he kept surprising us on the downside." Just a few days into the Biden presidency we've already received a welcome surprise on the upside. Thanks, Bernie.  Reference:
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/19/opinion/trump-presidency.html  HOW CAN I KEEP FROM SINGING? Today my life goes on in song,  Above earth's lamentation.  I hear the real though far-off hymn,  That hails a new creation.  No storm can shake my inmost calm,  While to that rock I'm clinging,  Since love is lord of heaven and earth,  How can I keep from singing?  Through all the tumult and the strife,  I hear its music ringing,  It sounds an echo in my soul.  How can I keep from singing?  While though the tempest loudly roars,  I hear the truth, it liveth.  And thought the darkness round me close,  Songs in the night it giveth.  When tyrants tremble, sick with fear,  And hear their death knell ringing,  When friends rejoice, both far and near,  How can I keep from singing?  No storm can shake my inmost calm,    While to that rock I'm clinging,  Since love is lord of heaven and earth,  How can I keep from singing?    "How can I keep from singing?"
By Robert Wadsworth Lowry  Love is a Physics experiment gone crazy. "Equal and Opposite Reactions" by Patti Liszkay http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa THE DONALD MADE ME DO IT Were these people really thinking that they could go to Washington one day, riot, smash into the Capitol, break into the Senate, zip-tie members of Congress, hang Mike Pence and Nancy Pelosi, overthrow the United States government, then go home and go to work the next day? The above question was pondered by my son-in-law Miguel,  ...in the days after the Washington D.C. riots as the FBI began showing up at the doors of rioters and making arrests, much to the surprise and distress of said rioters. But if the insurgents were so unaware that there would be consequences for the damage, destruction, violence and terror they wreaked and the injuries they caused when they stormed the Capitol building,       ...then what in the world were they thinking? Apparently this was a terrorism day trip. A democracy-overthrow outing. A attempted assassination afternoon. The rioters posted selfies, tweets, instagrams, photos, videos, slathered themselves all over social media while committing acts of violence and Federal felonies.      Then when Federal agents were waiting for them as they stepped off their planes or came to their houses days later, the FBI having gleaned their identities from tips from friends, family, and by all the social and news media postings,  ...they were caught like deer in the headlights. However after these people were arrested, charged, and able to avail themselves of the counsel of lawyers, clarity finally emerged and they came to the realization of why they had thought and behaved as they did: Donald Trump made them think it. Donald Trump made them do it. They acted, so they claimed, not of their own volition, but were following the command of their beloved President, who told them to "march down Pennsylvania Avenue" to the Capitol and to "fight like hell."  ...which they subsequently did. And took plenty of pictures of themselves doing it.  And now: ― Jenna Ryan, a Texas realtor who was arrested for taking part in the siege said she was answering the call of her President and that now, "I just want people to know I'm a normal person, that I listen to my President who told me to go to the Capitol."  This self-described "normal person" is now pleading for a Presidential pardon from Donald Trump. ― The lawyer for the man who invaded the Capitol wearing horns, fur, and face paint said that President Trump was culpable for his client's actions.  “Does our President bear responsibility?” said the man's laywer. “Hell, yes, he does.” The horned warrior, now in prison, is also begging Donald Trump for a pardon. ― A retired firefighter charged with injuring Capitol Police officers with a fire extinguisher said he went to the Capitol following “the President’s instructions.” ― A New Mexico county official and founder of Cowboys for Trump who was charged with with breaking into the Capitol pled that he merely became "caught up in the crowd." Et cetera. And so, if the hundreds of rioters who are now facing punishment for their crimes and the hundreds or thousands more who will be brought to justice knew not what they were thinking at the time, now they do. They're thinking that it wasn't their fault. That their President made them do it. And that, sometime before noon tomorrow, they want a Presidential pardon.  Good luck to them in getting one. References:
https://www.nytimes.com/2021/01/17/nyregion/protesters-blaming-trump-pardon.html https://www.yahoo.com/news/capitol-rioters-trump-told-them-123643116.html  "Equal and Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa and the sequel, "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888 Buy them on Amazon. 21,000 IF BY LAND, BUT WHAT IF BY AIR? If everybody in America is as anxious as I am tonight then we are one anxious country. Our nation's intelligence sources predict that this weekend and likely for days - possibly weeks - to follow there will be armed and likely violent pro-Trump agitators converging upon every state capitol building in the country in protest of the outcome of the Presidential election, which Trump lost to Joe Biden. It does not help my jitters that I happen to live in one of the cities, Columbus, Ohio, wherein is located one of the soon-to-be-besieged state capitols. The Ohio State Capitol  True, our Governor, Mike Dewine, has ordered so far several hundred national guard troops to assist the Ohio State Highway Patrol troopers and Columbus police officers in warding off the thousands of marauders who may descend upon the city, which would not have calmed me half so much had Governor Dewine not assured us at his press conference yesterday that he will round up more troops to protect the Capitol building and the city if need be.  Therefore I do not begrudge the 1,000 Ohio guardsmen and women our Governor has dispatched to Washington to assist the other guard troops, 21,000 strong, who will be protecting the United States Capitol. No, I'm glad for every boot that will be on the ground.
But here's what worries me: what if the domestic terrorists, along with attacks on the ground, are planning air attacks? Who's to say that a small private plane - or an army of small private planes - couldn't fly over the U.S. Capitol or over state capitol buildings and drop home made bombs or incendiary devices on the buildings or the people protecting the buildings? Who's to say they couldn't fly low and strafe the guard troops and police officers? Who's to even say there might not be some unhinged holy-war-zealots out there who might be planning to fly a plane into a building? What I want to know is, with all the thought and preparation that's gone into defense strategy against land attacks, has anyone planned defense against air attacks? "Oh, I'm sure they've planned for air attacks," said my spouse Tom. "But have they?" I said. "I haven't read or heard of any plans in case of air attacks." "Don't worry, they're ready," said Tom. "I'm going to send an email to the FBI, just in case they haven't thought of an air attack," said I. "Don't send the FBI and email," said Tom. "They might show up at the front door." "Maybe I'd like for them to show up at the front door so I could make sure they've thought about an air attack." Anyway, I ended up not sending an email to the FBI. But I did send one to Governor Dewine the other day warning him to be prepared for a possible air attack by Pro-Trump protesters. The Governor hasn't responded to my email. Which is fine. I just hope he saw it. And then passed it on to the FBI. You know you need something good to read.  "Equal and Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa and the sequel, "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888 Buy them on Amazon. MIKE PENCE, YOU PUTZ, JUST DO IT! Do it, Mike Pence, JUST DO IT! Four years you've been Donald Trump's Gunga Din, the most loyal of lackies,  ...creeping along behind him with your goat skin water bag slung over your your back like a limping lump of brick-dust, then scurrying ahead to sprinkle your water on the fires he set and your fairy dust on his lies and actions that were enough to make your eyebrows crawl. And in return, Mike Pence, he's belted you and flayed you,  ...but now, by the livin' Gawd that made you, has come to your chance to show that you're a better man than Trump is, Mike Pence! For you are finally to have your day, Mike Pence (as does every dog), your chance to throw off your water bag and stand tall, to be a man instead of Trump's gummy worm,  ...multiple mixed metaphors be hanged! And so do it, Mike Pence, JUST DO IT! Congress is offering you your manhood on a silver platter, the opportunity to lead the country and save us from whatever destructive mischief Donald Trump might be cooking up in the coming days, and you'd get to be President of the United States, to boot. (President only for a few days, but still. You'd finally be The Man. Or at least a man). Listen, Mike Pence, and hear me well: on this very day the United States Congress is voting on a resolution to call on you to invoke the 25th Amendment of our Constitution, which, with a majority of the President's cabinet in agreement, would require the Vice President (that's you, Mike Pence) to take over the duties and powers of the President and, in this case, for the President to be removed immediately.  After Congress votes today on the resolution, you will have 24 hours to invoke the 25th Amendment. Do it, Mike Pence, JUST DO IT! And do it now. Get Donald Trump out of the office of President, don't let another sun set on this man still sitting at the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. Do not follow behind Donald Trump another minute with your water bag, don't follow him down, down, down, lest you end up spending eternity squattin' on the coals givin' drink to poor damn souls.  You've been given the opportunity, the chance, the gift to do the right thing for your country and to break free of Donald Trump. So please, Mike Pence, cease being Trump's putz, his Gunga Din, his gummy worm. Do it now, Mike Pence, JUST DO IT! References
https://www.cnn.com/2021/01/12/politics/house-vote-25th-amendment-trump/index.html "Gunga Din" by Rudyard Kipling, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46783/gunga-din "Equal and Opposite Reactions" http://amzn.to/2xvcgRa and the sequel, "Hail Mary" https://www.amzn.com/1684334888 Buy them on Amazon.
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What do Donald Trump and I have in common?
The answer is, we've both been denied by Facebook.
Now, granted, Donald Trump was offed from Facebook for using it to help cause an attempted insurrection against the United States government,
The answer is, we've both been denied by Facebook.
Now, granted, Donald Trump was offed from Facebook for using it to help cause an attempted insurrection against the United States government,
...whereas I was just trying to hawk a couple copies of my book.
Lest you get the wrong impression, Facebook did not nix me because of the image on the cover of my book, nor should it have, what one perceives on the cover being a suggestive silhouette, but then silhouettes are seldom what they seem, which is what the novel is about. Facebook obviously picked up on that much.
No, Facebook liked my book's cover well enough. What Facebook apparently didn't like was the fact that I wanted to run an ad that included a brief excerpt from the novel that, ironically, Facebook felt - or rather its computer, algorithm, or whatever robotic widget calls the shots felt - was a rank attempt to influence the Presidential election against Donald Trump.
Hence Facebook rejected my ad for my book. Multiple times. Facebook continues to reject my ad even though the election is unequivocally over and Donald Trump is on the verge of getting the heave-ho less than two weeks before the end of his term, and for good reason.
Now, I'm quite sure that if my ad had been adjudicated by a live human, said human would have understood that a writer could hardly have influenced the outcome of the election just by using the words "Trump," "Donald," and "lard arse" in the same paragraph. But the widget that read my excerpt obviously didn't get those words in context. Or maybe the widget that read my ad was a Trump-supporter widget.
No, Facebook liked my book's cover well enough. What Facebook apparently didn't like was the fact that I wanted to run an ad that included a brief excerpt from the novel that, ironically, Facebook felt - or rather its computer, algorithm, or whatever robotic widget calls the shots felt - was a rank attempt to influence the Presidential election against Donald Trump.
Hence Facebook rejected my ad for my book. Multiple times. Facebook continues to reject my ad even though the election is unequivocally over and Donald Trump is on the verge of getting the heave-ho less than two weeks before the end of his term, and for good reason.
Now, I'm quite sure that if my ad had been adjudicated by a live human, said human would have understood that a writer could hardly have influenced the outcome of the election just by using the words "Trump," "Donald," and "lard arse" in the same paragraph. But the widget that read my excerpt obviously didn't get those words in context. Or maybe the widget that read my ad was a Trump-supporter widget.
But anyway, I figure maybe in a few weeks, if things transpire in such a way that Donald Trump's political future ends up with as much lift as a Macy's balloon the day after Thanksgiving, then maybe I'll try floating my excerpt by the Facebook ad widget again.
However in the meantime, the heck with that widget, you can read the excerpt for free if you want. Take your mind off everything for a minute.
An Excerpt from "Hail Mary"
By Patti Liszkay
Darren pulled off Oregon Avenue into the lot of Angelo Barbieri’s warehouse.
He was buzzed into the warehouse and greeted by Dina, Barbieri’s receptionist, who smiled at Darren then buzzed for the elevator from her desk. Darren took the elevator to the second floor then knocked on the mahogany door of Barbieri’s office.
“Come ii-in,” sang a voice from the other side.
Aw, screw me, Darren thought. He pulled in a deep breath then opened the door to see his step-brother Geoffry behind Angelo Barbieri’s desk, lounging back in Barbieri’s chair, his stocking feet on the polished desk as if he owned it.
“What are you, nuts?” Darren gasped. “Where’s Barbieri? He sees you like that he’ll grab your tongue and wrap it around your balls!”
Geoffry laughed and removed his feet from the desk. “He’s down the hall in the can.”
“What do you mean down the hall? His bathroom’s right there,” Darren pointed to a door next to a far corner of the office, “he’s got a shower in it and everything.”
Geoffry shrugged. “He likes to take a dump in the other bathroom down the hall. Go figure.”
“Yeah, well, that’s great, but you better get your butt out of his chair.”
Geoffry stood, pushed the chair back closer to the desk and rubbed his sleeve on the desk where his feet had been. “There,” he said as he put on his shoes, “you happy now, Mom?”
“I’m not your damn mom,” Darren mumbled.
“What?” said Geoffry.
“Whadja do to your hair?” said Darren. “You look like Donald Trump Junior.”
“Hey that’s just what I said!” Angelo Barbieri was standing in his doorway tucking his pale blue checked Brooks Brothers shirt into his expensive tan size forty-two husky Regent-Fit trousers. “His hair all slicked back like that, doesn’t he look like Donald Junior now? Or wait, not Donald Junior, but the other kid, the blonde guy, what’s-his-name, the one looks like there’s nobody home, you know who I mean?”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Darren. "Jason, or something,”
“That’s who you look, like,” Angelo Barbieri said, walking over to the men and slinging an arm around grinning Geoffry’s shoulders, “Jason Trump.” Barbieri lightly poked Geoffry’s stomach where it bulged over his belt. “Gettin’ a little grassone, there, huh, Jason? You don’t lay off the pasta fazzoule you’ll have a lard arse on you like your daddy Donald.” Angelo broke into a loud guffaw shared by Geoffry. Angelo pointed to Geoffry. “You see, Bobby Darren?” he said, calling Darren by the nickname he’d pinned on him, “Jason Trump here’s got a great sense of humor, that’s why everybody loves the guy.” Barbieri turned back to Geoffry. “Whataya say, J.T.? Can we get your brother here to loosen up a little? He’s standing there looking like he’s got a Popsicle up his can.”
“He needs to warm it up in his wife’s hot cooch,” replied Geoffry.
“This guy,” laughed Angelo, again poking Geoffry’s stomach, “is he a paisan’ oobatz, or what?”
Darren stood with a tight forced smile stretched across his face while Angelo and Geoffry yucked it up.
Barbieri released Geoffry’s shoulder then said, “Aw, J.T. what are we gonna do with Bobby Darren, here? He just doesn’t like to make the battut’. You gotta work on this guy. Hey you got that cash ready for him? And the checks?”
“Yeah, it’s in my desk, there,” said Geoffry. “You want me to go get it?”
Angelo looked blankly at Geoffry for a moment then he ran a hand over his bald head and said, “Yeah, Jason Trump, go get it.” While Geoffry was pulling the envelopes of money from the desk drawer with his back to the room Angelo leaned close to Darren and said softly, “You musta got all the brains in the family.”
However in the meantime, the heck with that widget, you can read the excerpt for free if you want. Take your mind off everything for a minute.
An Excerpt from "Hail Mary"
By Patti Liszkay
Darren pulled off Oregon Avenue into the lot of Angelo Barbieri’s warehouse.
He was buzzed into the warehouse and greeted by Dina, Barbieri’s receptionist, who smiled at Darren then buzzed for the elevator from her desk. Darren took the elevator to the second floor then knocked on the mahogany door of Barbieri’s office.
“Come ii-in,” sang a voice from the other side.
Aw, screw me, Darren thought. He pulled in a deep breath then opened the door to see his step-brother Geoffry behind Angelo Barbieri’s desk, lounging back in Barbieri’s chair, his stocking feet on the polished desk as if he owned it.
“What are you, nuts?” Darren gasped. “Where’s Barbieri? He sees you like that he’ll grab your tongue and wrap it around your balls!”
Geoffry laughed and removed his feet from the desk. “He’s down the hall in the can.”
“What do you mean down the hall? His bathroom’s right there,” Darren pointed to a door next to a far corner of the office, “he’s got a shower in it and everything.”
Geoffry shrugged. “He likes to take a dump in the other bathroom down the hall. Go figure.”
“Yeah, well, that’s great, but you better get your butt out of his chair.”
Geoffry stood, pushed the chair back closer to the desk and rubbed his sleeve on the desk where his feet had been. “There,” he said as he put on his shoes, “you happy now, Mom?”
“I’m not your damn mom,” Darren mumbled.
“What?” said Geoffry.
“Whadja do to your hair?” said Darren. “You look like Donald Trump Junior.”
“Hey that’s just what I said!” Angelo Barbieri was standing in his doorway tucking his pale blue checked Brooks Brothers shirt into his expensive tan size forty-two husky Regent-Fit trousers. “His hair all slicked back like that, doesn’t he look like Donald Junior now? Or wait, not Donald Junior, but the other kid, the blonde guy, what’s-his-name, the one looks like there’s nobody home, you know who I mean?”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Darren. "Jason, or something,”
“That’s who you look, like,” Angelo Barbieri said, walking over to the men and slinging an arm around grinning Geoffry’s shoulders, “Jason Trump.” Barbieri lightly poked Geoffry’s stomach where it bulged over his belt. “Gettin’ a little grassone, there, huh, Jason? You don’t lay off the pasta fazzoule you’ll have a lard arse on you like your daddy Donald.” Angelo broke into a loud guffaw shared by Geoffry. Angelo pointed to Geoffry. “You see, Bobby Darren?” he said, calling Darren by the nickname he’d pinned on him, “Jason Trump here’s got a great sense of humor, that’s why everybody loves the guy.” Barbieri turned back to Geoffry. “Whataya say, J.T.? Can we get your brother here to loosen up a little? He’s standing there looking like he’s got a Popsicle up his can.”
“He needs to warm it up in his wife’s hot cooch,” replied Geoffry.
“This guy,” laughed Angelo, again poking Geoffry’s stomach, “is he a paisan’ oobatz, or what?”
Darren stood with a tight forced smile stretched across his face while Angelo and Geoffry yucked it up.
Barbieri released Geoffry’s shoulder then said, “Aw, J.T. what are we gonna do with Bobby Darren, here? He just doesn’t like to make the battut’. You gotta work on this guy. Hey you got that cash ready for him? And the checks?”
“Yeah, it’s in my desk, there,” said Geoffry. “You want me to go get it?”
Angelo looked blankly at Geoffry for a moment then he ran a hand over his bald head and said, “Yeah, Jason Trump, go get it.” While Geoffry was pulling the envelopes of money from the desk drawer with his back to the room Angelo leaned close to Darren and said softly, “You musta got all the brains in the family.”
Things are seldom what they seem.
DO YOU REALLY BELIEVE DONALD TRUMP IS THROUGH WITH HIS MISCHIEF?
True, as of today Donald Trump has only twelve days left in office. But do you really believe, even with such a short time left, that he's through with his mischief?
And true, in the wake of the violent uprising against the United States government that Trump incited the day before yesterday,
And true, in the wake of the violent uprising against the United States government that Trump incited the day before yesterday,
...he has now promised to go along with a peaceful transfer of power.
But do you believe for one minute that Donald Trump's promise is anything more than another of his lies, empty words no more to be believed than the promise of a spoiled, chronically misbehaving child who's learned how to make the overly-permissive adults around him believe that he'll be good from now on?
Do you not believe that at the sight of the invasion of the Capitol building two days ago Donald Trump was exalting - and is likely exalting still - in his power to make tens of thousands rise up in his name? Do you think Trump won't continue to wield that power for as long as he's permitted to with every means he has at his disposal as President of the United States?
Do you think Donald Trump is any less determined today to keep his grip on the Presidency than he was yesterday? Do you think he's any less exclusively self-serving?
Do you think, if allowed to stay in office for the next twelve days, Donald Trump will not bring down more discord and chaos on this country?
If you don't believe that serious trouble is brewing still just take note of all the top-ranking White house staff members and members of Trump's cabinet who are in these final days quitting in droves,
But do you believe for one minute that Donald Trump's promise is anything more than another of his lies, empty words no more to be believed than the promise of a spoiled, chronically misbehaving child who's learned how to make the overly-permissive adults around him believe that he'll be good from now on?
Do you not believe that at the sight of the invasion of the Capitol building two days ago Donald Trump was exalting - and is likely exalting still - in his power to make tens of thousands rise up in his name? Do you think Trump won't continue to wield that power for as long as he's permitted to with every means he has at his disposal as President of the United States?
Do you think Donald Trump is any less determined today to keep his grip on the Presidency than he was yesterday? Do you think he's any less exclusively self-serving?
Do you think, if allowed to stay in office for the next twelve days, Donald Trump will not bring down more discord and chaos on this country?
If you don't believe that serious trouble is brewing still just take note of all the top-ranking White house staff members and members of Trump's cabinet who are in these final days quitting in droves,
...rats jumping from the sinking ship of their own construction.
They must know something that the rest of us don't, but that we will all know very soon if Donald Trump is allowed to last in the White House for twelve more days.
Reference:
https://www.nytimes.com/article/trump-resignations.html
https://www.nytimes.com/article/trump-resignations.html
The following was posted a little while ago by one of my Facebook friends:
...Jim Jordan being the loud-mouthed, rabid, right-wing Republican U.S. Representative from Ohio,
...who, after having been chosen by Donald Trump to receive the Presidential Medal of Honor, was leading the charge against the Congressional certification of Joe Biden as winner over Trump of the 2020 Presidential election.
As the whole world now knows, at the very moment that Jordan and his cohorts were about to turn the traditionally ceremonial counting of the electoral votes on the floor of Congress into a disruptive six-ring circus for the sake of currying favor with the die-hard supporters of soon-to-be-ex-President Donald Trump, tens of thousands of those very Trump supporters were outside storming the Capitol building.
As the whole world now knows, at the very moment that Jordan and his cohorts were about to turn the traditionally ceremonial counting of the electoral votes on the floor of Congress into a disruptive six-ring circus for the sake of currying favor with the die-hard supporters of soon-to-be-ex-President Donald Trump, tens of thousands of those very Trump supporters were outside storming the Capitol building.
After they broached the barriers they then smashed in the windows and doors,
...and broke into the Capitol.
Before the mob reached the Senate most of the members of Congress were evacuated, except for a few in the top gallery who were unable to escape in time.
The rioters then broke into the Senate, riffled through desks of the Senators, ambled around the floor,
...and took selfies of themselves lounging at the desk of the Vice President.
They broke into some offices, including that of Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi,
...where one of the insurgents, a man named Richard Barnett, stole a document from Speaker Pelosi's desk,
...then left her a message.
Do these images of what happened today in the United States Capitol building, the seat of our democracy, make you sick, appalled, angry, frightened? Me too.
But is it not noteworthy that the thugs who broke into, vandalized and made a mockery of the United States Congress are the very people that Jim Jordan and all the other Republicans who made such a show of attempting to block Joe Biden's election claimed to be fighting for? Which begs the question for those particular members of Congress: Why, when these, your people, arrived at your door, did you flee for your life from them? Why didn't you stay for them, welcome them, express your solidarity with them?
And, of course, there rests one more question for Jim Jordan and the others who've spent the last eight weeks bolstering and propagating Donald Trump's lie that the election was stolen from him: Are you indeed happy now?
But is it not noteworthy that the thugs who broke into, vandalized and made a mockery of the United States Congress are the very people that Jim Jordan and all the other Republicans who made such a show of attempting to block Joe Biden's election claimed to be fighting for? Which begs the question for those particular members of Congress: Why, when these, your people, arrived at your door, did you flee for your life from them? Why didn't you stay for them, welcome them, express your solidarity with them?
And, of course, there rests one more question for Jim Jordan and the others who've spent the last eight weeks bolstering and propagating Donald Trump's lie that the election was stolen from him: Are you indeed happy now?
"Tropical Depression"
by Patti Liszkay
Buy it on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BTPN7NYY
by Patti Liszkay
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I am a traveler just visiting this planet and reporting various and sundry observations,
hopefully of interest to my fellow travelers.
hopefully of interest to my fellow travelers.