The party's over

Ding dong the GOP is dead. And it wasn’t a house that fell on it. It was Trump Tower.

It’s about time. It came into focus the last four, dreadful, depressing years, but it’s really been happening since Nixon and before. The party of family values, fiscal responsibility, military supporters and state’s rights has sold their souls—or whatever was living in that space—and become the party of a porn-star banging draft-dodger who’s gone bankrupt at least six times and tried to take federal control of elections.

I could list all the ways and reasons Cadet Bone Spurs is the most vile, vulgar, repulsive, incomprehensibly stupid human on earth. But they’re all well known by now. And in an extremely uncharacteristic move I want to keep this post short tonight.

After yesterday’s attempted coup by his radicalized supporters, a few things are clear.

First, as a country we really need to up our educational game. If just fifty percent of those asshats storming the capitol had teeth, an eighth-grade education and a class in civics, maybe they would’ve had a shot at understanding what a monster they’ve been supporting.

Maybe.

Next, somebody has to call a handy man to come put bars on the windows at the Capitol. You’d think after 9/11 and two Capitol Police were shot and killed there a couple years ago they might’ve tightened things up security wise. If bars are too bold a move, start with thicker glass or two-inch thick plexiglass. You'll thank me later.

Also, let's be honest—this white privilege bullshit has to stop. I know it’s been said everywhere but I’m going to say it again: if that had been a Black Lives Matter protest, with protesters packing automatic weapons, dressed like Vikings and screaming like banshees heading into the capitol, the police would’ve shot first and asked questions later. They also would’ve been handing out plastic handcuffs and had prisoner buses lining the National Mall with their engines running.

There has to be a shortcut to getting seditionists like Ted Cruz and Josh Hawley out of government (unless it’s a federal prison). The Insurrection Act was written for traitors like them, and there needs to be a quicker way to implement it. Maybe not having to have bipartisan agreement would move things along a little faster.

The good news is democracy will survive, but thankfully the GOP, at least in its current form, will not. Trump will be gone, and get far less media than he gets now. Yesterday was the topping on his legacy as a traitor. And while nothing has been able to stick in the last four years, I have a feeling this will. He's already striking a much more concilliatory tone this morning, and even got close to conceding the election. So he's realized the errors of his ways and he's a changed man, right?

If you believe that I have a membership at Mar-A-Lago I'd like to sell you.

As expected, right on schedule, the infighting, backpedaling, denials, conspiracy theories and revisionist history is already in full swing and spewing out of the unstable genius’ enablers.

Southern belle Lindsay Graham gave a drunken, sweaty speech when they reconvened for the electoral vote count last night about how he supports the Constitutional process. He obviously forgot he was on the phone with Georgia two weeks ago threatening federal investigations if they didn’t come up with more votes for tRump.

The truth is the GOP should've died a long time ago.

It's hard to figure how they've survived this long without a heart, a brain or courage.

Déja vote

Well here we go again. The creeping anxiety in the pit of the stomach. The uncertainty that the inmates might wind up running the asylum (again). The wondering if justice and right will prevail.

Oh, and just for good measure, nothing less than the fate of the nation and democracy hang in the balance as Georgia voters make their way to the polls. It seems every election for the last four years has been the most important election of our lifetimes. But this time it actually is.

This is the harsh, traitorous reality if the democrats lose:

—Moscow Mitch has already vowed not to pass any Democratic legislation even if he thinks it’s a good bill. As it stands, there are over 400 pieces of legislation from the House sitting on his desk that he won’t allow a vote on.

—Over 140 simpering, ass-kissing, boot-licking, brown-nosing, tweet-fearing Republican representatives and senators are protesting the electoral college votes as a show of support and supplication to the outgoing Traitor-In-Chief, even though they don’t have the power to actually change the result. Thank God.

—Facts and truth will continue to be disputed as if there were two sides, and eventually wind up dead as disco.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that everything this nation was founded on, that sons and daughters fought and died for, will be undone should this election go the wrong way. When I started writing this post, the democratic candidates were ahead, but now their lead has been thinned significantly. It’s going to go back and forth all night like this.

So one more time, let’s break out the popcorn, make our nervous jokes, yell at John King and Wolf Blitzer (it always feels good to yell at the messenger) and cross our fingers hoping it all works out.

Tonight, instead of a snappy line to wrap this up, I’ll borrow the end line from Jessie Jackson’s speech at the 2000 Democratic Convention. Which, no doubt, is going to be the mantra of the evening.

”Keep hope alive!”

It begins

First of all, happy new year, and congratulations for surviving—in a very literal sense—what’s sure to be the worst year in everyone’s life. I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m glad we made it, and there’s definitely nowhere to go but up.

Unless of course Cadet Bone Spurs has a(nother) Giuliani-size brain fart and decides to burn the house down on his way out. And out he will go, no matter how many calls he makes to Georgia.

Of course, despite the fact we’re still going to be using masks as a fashion statement, keeping our distance and washing our hands like Howard Hughes for the foreseeable future, there are a lot of things to look forward to in the coming year.

In just a Scaramucci and five days we’ll have a new sane, decent, smart and compassionate president. I don’t agree on all policy with him, but he’s already a breath of fresh sanity.

We’ll also have the first female, Black/Indian vice-president. I’m even more excited about Kamala because she was my first choice for the top job in the primary. My dream ticket was Harris/Buttigieg. It may still wind up being that. No one's getting any younger if you get my continental drift.

Dr. Fauci is staying on, and he’ll have a new president who believes in science, listens to and respects what he says, and will be a partner in finally bringing this horrible pandemic chapter to a close. As well as the run on bleach and hypodermic needles.

The vaccine. Just give it to me in the left arm like the flu shot. I never like waiting in line, but I’m more than willing to make an exception.

And as I’ve done so many times before, I buried the lead. The other thing you’ll have to look forward to, and you know you will, is another year of stimulating, insightful, side-spitting, far too long posts on Rotation and Balance. Now at the risk of sounding like the blogger who cried wolf, this year is actually positioned to be a stellar one in number of posts, if not in quality of writing. You can’t have everything.

Besides, who do you think I am. Round Seventeen?