But What’s Wrong with Now?

Falling through the universe at the speed of life

By David Glenn Cox

Happy January 6th, the new December 7th. Maybe we should just pick one day a year and just make it a Federal Holiday, like President’s Day. “American Political Corruption Day!” Don’t forget, next week is Political corruption Monday! Banks are closed! But Jan 6th is like a cross between Watergate & JFK. It has the quietness and stealthiness of Watergate, with the violence of JFK. They sought to assassinate democracy from a sixth-floor window.

Plays, books, movies all tell the sad tale of histories conspirators, once the jig is up. Once on the run and friendless, to be wasted all alone in a burning barn. A political corpse and a political footnote to be put to rest. Like Watergate, long hearings that release dribs and drabs of information that become a mighty stream, which eventually washes the damn away. Richard Nixon waves to us from the helicopter door, after choosing his own successor. (The system works!) Who will then pardon Nixon to spare us, the American people, the terrible agony of Nixon’s long and ugly trial.

But this isn’t kid stuff and is never to be taken lightly. Ask Rommel what happens when you get involved in a coup or ask Brutus. The rules never change, you could be shot in a courtyard or hung in a public park. This is worse than horse stealing or cattle rustling.  Now don’t think that I’m advocating for such, I not. We Americans usually only get one Presidential assassination or usurpation per generation, making it a unique experience for us all. History says, this ends badly. I’m only pointing to the history of such.

Edwin Stanton had been in charge of the War Department under Abe Lincoln. After Lincoln’s assassination, nine pages were found to be missing from Stanton’s diary during the weeks preceding the assassination. Nixon’s eighteen minutes of missing tape spelled doom for the Nixon Administration. You don’t write this kind of stuff down! “Meet at the bank at noon, so we can rob it!”

Like children playing games, “We have nine days to land the plane!” Geez! He’s as hammy and pretentious behind the scenes, as he is in front of the camera. Playing and clowning, while holding a lit match inside a dynamite shack. Do they not realize that this isn’t like a dead hooker in a hotel room; this is serious. And yet, they texted each other and left a written record of their actions, complete with time stamps. (Face palm) Like entitled Karens, “You can’t arrest me!”

Many of the conspirators have already gone to ground. Living in their subterranean quarters and silent like Anne Frank, lest they be remembered. Paul Gosar, Louie Gohmert and Jim Jordan. Moe Brooks has managed to keep a low profile, even while running for higher office. But it was in Alabama, so it didn’t matter. Pedophiles or football coaches, long as they do as they’re told. Others believe the best offense is a poor defense. Those with lawyers and money their pockets, thumb their noses at the committee. While the underlings quietly testify about that letter you dictated.

Donald Twump had a speech all planned out for today. But he cancelled it at the last minute, after reflecting on Hannity’s text, about never mentioning the election again. It’s only beginning to sink in on Twump that the area around him is becoming slowly isolated in advance of prosecution. “Go ahead, we are all listening. Tell us again what you did that day, Mr. Twump.” In typical Twumpian fashion, he cancels the speech promising an even bigger and better event, later in the month. But what’s wrong with now, all of a sudden?

Michael Cohen is suing Twump and Bill Barr. The rats are beginning to chew on each other’s tails. And then there is the wild card to consider. That person or persons inside the operation, but outside the protective bubble. Who knows for whom the bell tolls and decides to save themselves, by singing like a canary sings.  

The Hannity text are interesting as they show his boyish exuberance. Leading up to and then as January 6th explodes, he realizes what has happened and starts to get cold feet. The organ grinder suddenly finds out he’s been the monkey, all along! He thought he was turning Twump’s crank, but Twump was twisting his. So, what’s a Hannity to do now? Play the invisible man and pretend he isn’t walking through a hailstorm in a tin suit? Ignore the slings and arrow of outrageous misfortune?

What of his employer? Looking down the barrel of several billion dollars in lawsuits in what attorneys contend is “Not a leg to stand on.” Of course, the company can fight the suits off until Moses shaves his head. But such pending litigation has a pronounced effect on the people at the bank, and on Wall Street. The sudden possible deduction of nine or ten digits from the balance sheet makes auditors and accountants nervous. It will likely move the stock to a sell position.

Could it be vacation time? Time to spend more quality time with what’s her name and kiddies. To do all those things, He never thought he’d have the time to do. Like hide out in the woods like Bigfoot and only be seen occasionally in a blurry photograph, every few years. To join Bill O’Reilly and Glen Beck, all the others in the Ex-Faux host club. The living dead where nobody sees you, but everybody knows your name. Like Cheers, for ex-Faux hosts. “Sean!” A seedy little joint where the former outer party members drink their gin and play their chess quietly, between the missiles strikes.

Tis the stuff of strong drink and 357 magnums. Traffic accidents and mysterious circumstances. The end of dreams and the end-of-life savings, college funds and marriages. Used like a washer woman by the person they sought to serve. From Hannity to the lowest pip squeak sucker from Dog Patch. Twump used them all, no differently than pushing the Hitler Youth out in front of Russian tanks. Using their love and their patriotism, to attack their own government and convince them to become traitors to the land of their forefathers.

A nation is truly corrupted when having…lost its character and it’s liberty, it passes from democracy to aristocracy or to monarchy. That is the decrepitude and death of the body politic…” ― Maximilien Robespierre

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