Tag Archives: Trumpocalypse

I Hate to Critize Gawande, But

His recent analysis of the latest way that the GOP has screwed itself and their voters by worshipping a fantasy of a “free” market and a white, straight, born-here manvoter who can act unencumbered (swing around his big ol’ wallet, rub it on anything) within that “free” market presupposes its own falsehood: that this administration and its Congress respond to rational argument, evidence, and voters’ needs to see a fucking doctor without going broke. (Or breathe clean air. Or use a bathroom without getting clobbered. Or not die in nuclear holocaust. Or conventional holocaust. Or smoking rubble of a formerly greenish planet.)

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Dystopia and American Individualism

Today I learned the word “centi-millionaire.” I did not want to know this word. I did not require a vocabulary for gradations of unimaginable wealth. I did not want to imagine billionaires benevolently sharing social theories, real estate tips, and 60-year-old wine with their scrappy li’l neighbors in the soundless, glinting moneyscape of the topmost fraction of a percent. But now I know, and I cannot un-know.

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Hot Frigging Chocolate

When our government lays the groundwork for conditions that thoughtful people cogently compare to Nazi Germany and fascist Italy; when our president issues racist orders and statements unrepentantly; when our elected representatives appear to ignore millions of constituents who insist on full rejection of a racist, sexist, sadistic set of know-nothings running our most important federal agencies and a Nazi on the National Security Council is this a waking nightmare or are you just happy to see me; I have but one recommendation:

Put equal amounts of sugar and cocoa powder in a saucepan over medium heat. Dribble in milk (dairy for maximum custardy taste!) and whisk to make a paste. When it’s smoooooove, whisk in more milk until the color looks yum. Heat over medium until it bubbles around the edges, and then keep heating it a bit longer to toast the milk sugars for nutty puddingness.

If you overmilked it and you’re like damn just opening Twitter today requires heroic chocolate this is no time for even an illusion of moderation (Elizabeth Warren, I’m talking to you), just whisk in more cocoa and sugar. Do not fear lumps. They will whisk away. Relish these easily fixable problems.

Ladle some out some to the clammering younglings, sure, but the point of this whole endeavor is to pour vodka into your own cup of hot fucking chocolate. And drink it. Bourbon would probably work too.

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Theory of a Bully

Political theory!

Donald Duck plans to gut Hillary Clinton’s signature work in the State Department out of revenge for her kicking his ass (3 million more votes!) and wiping his gilded counters with it, with a smile, all over the place everywhere except for a few folks in key rust belt states.

Or maybe it’s not about petty, petty-ass schoolboy revenge. Maybe he really does hate that the US government has worked to prevent genital mutilation, human trafficking, and the state-sponsored or supported imprisonment, rape, and murder of women and girls advocating for their own rights in other nations.

Maybe he’s just a simple man who only wants, in his 24K heart, to gut all government spending on human rights, civil rights, and the mitigation of climate change-driven devastation. Maybe deep down in his soul, all he asks from Santa is to divert that money to nuclear warheads, like all the country’s blood rushing to a massive erection, the spectacle of his power.

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