My Pitchfork is on Backorder

Falling through the universe at the speed of life

By David Glenn Cox

It is hard to fathom sometimes a Fulgencio Batista in the White House. It’s easy to understand the actual fact but hard to wrap your head around what it means to life on earth. On the day the President first dons one mask he drops another. Lieutenant Colonel Vindeman retires and Roger Stone is pardoned, a war criminal is reinstated an Admiral is fired. The President will speak no evil of Russia and speaks no good of anyone else. This isn’t an Administration that hides the occasional lie in bundles of truth. No, they tie the truth to headboard and have their way with it.  Today they will tell you a lie. Tomorrow they will tell you another lie and if you come back again, they will tell an even a better lie.

The truth ain’t in them and if even occasionally any truth slips out it is purely accidental and will be immediately covered up like a cat covering a turd with another lie. Personally, if they want to lie about how much golf Trumpy plays or how smart he is or how high he can swing on his tire swing I’m willing to let that go. But there is reality as it is and then there is a stage play the administration is attempting to present. A High School production of “Jesus Christ Superstar” God’s anointed, persecuted by the world. Critics aren’t just wrong, but the soldiers of Satan armed with hammer and nails.

A Chinese proverb says, “The Emperor’s power ends at the palace gate.” Or in our case his power ends at Faux News. Without drinking the Kool aid, it appears the President has been wrong about virtually everything every time. An accomplishment only equaled on Gilligan’s Island. If it were just tax policy or spotted owls or snail darters, I’d say wait it out. Their official policy is to ignore facts push the economy to reopen despite the rising numbers of pandemic victims that increasingly give this illness an American flavor. From “The Sunshine State” to “See Florida and Die.” Arizona has gone from the “Valley of the Sun” to the “Valley of the Shadow.” Little Mini Me governors chime in “we’re open for business.” Only in regimes such as Pol Pot, Stalin or the Third Reich have the citizenry been actively encouraged to die pointlessly for the good of the regime.

From the beginning this has been Trump’s policy to let the virus run its course. It’s like the flu, everything will be fine. A barbaric thug without empathy or understanding. “Hey, somebody in your life died, get over it. Gotta happen sometime! Happens to everybody!” That is the part that is so hard to wrap my head around…President Al Capone. Not just a President who is a criminal but an organized criminal administration. A criminal administration willing to sacrifice tens of thousands of men, women and children needlessly pointlessly.

How do you send thousands to their death fighting the battle of Me Look Bad? The Trumpy Campaign founders helplessly in the lake with every move failing spectacularly. The Scary Ramp, Tulsa, New Hampshire, and the President’s own Death March to Victory Convention in Jacksonville. Leaving Charlotte because of a mask and arriving in Jacksonville only to find the doors locked. It’s just like a Road Runner cartoon after the Acme box arrives.

The mask has fallen, the Cheeto pardons criminals and pressures witnesses. The only wall Trump has built has been between himself and justice. The administration has asked for a second extension on its financial disclosure forms. It is as obvious as a child stealing cookies. Stall until after the election and then fire them and put somebody in their place that won’t ask about disclosure forms. The Gilligan Syndrome has reached Tucker Carlson. He has fired his head Nazi writer because of vile statements made on messaging boards. Think about that…too vile to work for Faux News. And they employ Tucker Carlson and they think you are worse! It’s almost like the dozens, “Your Mama is so awful she works at Faux News.” Oh Yeah? Well, your Mama is too awful to work for Faux News! Your head writer is a Nazi and a White supremacist, and I guess that maybe he didn’t know. Ain’t that America and is the most watched program on Faux News, Tucker’s Roach Motel.

As a parent I can tell you that school will not be opening this fall. I don’t care what the Cheeto says, I don’t care what Betsy Devos says and I don’t care what some swami Guru high up in the Himalayas says. I would not send my kids to germ camp. Better six months of cartoons and video games than that. Besides, what were the chances you’d pass the third grade on the first try anyway? Little dandelion spores blowing off into the wind off to make more dandelions. Temperature checks, social distancing, plexiglass, the pledge of allegiance, morning messages and its time for lunch.

They say Texas is now in play for the first time since Jimmy Carter. Encouraging people to die is a hard sell on the campaign trail. The President’s statements resemble a Cheeto on Monkey Island throwing poop. A sad old man mumbling to himself in the corner and it seems every day the boat drifts a little further from shore. Through serendipity and very astute marketing, the Trump Campaign has formally invited me to join the Trump 100 club. For a donation of just $42 US Dollars I can join the ranks of those who have already given forty-two dollars. This is a very exclusive club, only those with $42 dollars can join.

Followed in quick succession by emails from Don Jr. and Laura Trump begging for money. Eric sent me a Crayola drawing of a cow and a duck. But honestly, a billionaire using his children to work the street begging for money. There was another box for other amount and at first thought no effing way, but then it occurred to me we should all donate one penny. If a million of us each donated one penny Trump would have one thousand dollars. After processing and administrative costs are deducted, he’d be lucky to break even. Then I decided I wouldn’t give the Cheeto a penny because I’m saving up for tar and feathers. Amazon says my torch should be here tomorrow, but my pitchfork is on backorder.

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