Archive for March, 2016

When David Foster Wallace (RIP) and Donald Trump’s hands met.

Thursday, March 31st, 2016

 

 

 

What strikes me most about Donald Trump supporters is that their fanatical allegiance seems to have extinguished all sense of humor. The typical Donald Trump supporter is steadfast and virulent in his devotion and this appears to leave little room for a little self-deprecatory jabbing. You’re either with us or against us! is the philosophy that seems to drive most Trumpeteers. Which is really unfair, because of all the Presidential candidates over the past 3 or 4 decades, none has fostered as much comic potential as Donald Trump. The dude asks for it. His hair, his words, his personal history, his public exhilaration; he’s goddamned hilarious. How can we not laugh at him? And furthermore, I get the sense that if anyone can laugh at Donald Trump, it is Donald Trump. There’s a sense of overzealous trolling innate to this public persona. He is a character, a formatted scripted being who behaves in the egregious manner we expect and which, when fulfilled, instigates plumes of laughter for what we expected. He’s comedy, damnit. I wish Trumpeteers would lighten up and laugh at their guy once in a while.

 

I’m a Trump supporter (no Trumpeteer) but I find the guy funnier than all hell.

 

My favorite Donald Trump laugh track is that which follows any mention of his infamous “little hands.”

 

This article from ABC compiles the trajectory of Donald Trump’s doomed micro-appendages.

 

 

Marco Rubio told supporters last week that GOP presidential rival Donald Trump is “always calling me ‘little Marco.'”
“He is taller than me, he’s like 6′ 2″, which is why I don’t understand why his hands are the size of someone who is 5′ 2″,” Rubio joked. “Have you seen his hands? And you know what they say about men with small hands — “
The crowd erupted.
” — You can’t trust them,” Rubio said.
Rubio’s comment may come across tasteless for a presidential hopeful, but that was not the first time someone has questioned the size of Trump’s hands.

 

 

This winter, politics took the high road and the pressing subject of hand size became the sticky (sticking) point between Marco Rubio and Donald Trump, but it was all for naught because Lil’ Marco couldn’t ward off the Trumpian short-fingered attack that Graydon Carter, writing skillfully for Spy magazine in 1988, pressed so well by mocking Donald Trump as a “short-fingered vulgarian.”   This immediately placed the aspiring POTUS, Donald Trump, in a defensive posture that sounded ridiculously school-yard by any measure when he retorted,

 

My fingers are long and beautiful, as, it has been well-documented, are various other parts of my body.

 

Thanks for that, DT.  The mental imprint supersedes any pathetic attempts by blowing out the original insult with egregious responsive innuendo.  Good try.  The master manipulator of language ploy only goes so far, but the point is, I don’t give a damn about your finger or hand size.  You’ve lost this battle.  You were outdone in this battle of semantics.    In other words, the accuracy of the pointless postulations regarding the size of your fingers means nothing now and any attempts to thwart further conjecture are in vain.

 

What reminds me of this is that I’m currently in the midst of a humongous, mind-boggling novel, Infinite Jest, by suicided author, David Foster Wallace.  I will one day, maybe, write about this “masterpiece” on these digital pages.  I’m up to page 300 and my mind swims each time I read it.

 

The detail, the nuance, the intricate immersion in absurdism, that Wallace expended to write this monument could not have happened in the absence of madness, hence, Wallace’s demise.

 

But the point at hand, in terms of Donald Trump, is that I read a passage in Infinite Jest in which we are introduced to a burly character, a grief counselor, who happens to have proportionately small hands.  In this scene, the narrator, having just “successfully” completed his grief counseling, stands up eagerly to shake his doctor’s hands (which have previously been hidden below sight, under his desk), and the counselor, unable to resist, returns the courtesy and extends his hand.

 

“…and put my hand out in a trembly grateful way he couldn’t have possibly refused, and he stood and brought out the hand and shook my hand, I finally understood.”
“His hands were disfigured or something.”
“His hands were no bigger than a four-year-old girl’s.  It was surreal.  This massive authoritative figure, with a huge red meaty face and thick walrus mustache and dewlaps and a neck that spilled over the rim of his shirt-collar, and his hands were tiny and pink and hairless and butt soft, delicate as shells.  The hands were the cappers.  I barely made it out of the office before it started….I barely made it to the men’s room down the hall.  I was laughing hysterically I was afraid all the periodontists and C.P.A.’s on either side of the men’s room would hear….”

 

 

Oh Donald, you’re not alone.

 

 

 

What came first: the rapper or the rap sheet?

Wednesday, March 30th, 2016

 

A convicted murderer in Louisiana by the unlikely name of “C-Murder” has attracted the attention of that state’s Department of Corrections after he apparently recorded and released a rap song from behind bars. C-Murder, whose real name is Corey Miller, was convicted of murdering a 16-year-old in 2002 and is serving a life sentence in the state pen in Angola, Louisiana. C-Murder’s song, “Dear Supreme Court,” dropped last week and is the vehicle whereby who proclaims his innocence.

 

In the song, Miller…asks the state’s highest court to release him, saying that his trials were rigged and jurors were paid off.

 

Uh-huh, cause C-Murder is just that noteworthy to warrant such extreme public attention.

 

C-Murder insists all material in the song was recorded before his incarceration, but nevertheless…

 

…State Department of Corrections spokeswoman Pam Laborde said Tuesday that officials began looking into how Miller managed to record material from behind bars in January.

 

Personally, I believe the Corrections department is spinning its wheels trying to to unravel the case of someone who is behind bars, which is the only difference between this thug/rapper and all the others who aren’t in prison yet. Same mentality, same animalistic, primal violent opportunism. They would be better off setting their sights on the free and destructive.

 

C-Murder is the same creature, in emotional make up, as all the other thug-rappers out on the street. The only difference is, he’s accounted for.

 

 

Everytime an illegal alien rapes a child, a Donald earns a vote (or 10,000).

Tuesday, March 29th, 2016

 

All apologies to my post title from March 22.

a vote

 

 

We live in fearful times and invasion is the driving force behind Donald Trump’s elemental appeal.  In fact, it’s not very complicated at all.

 

I believe xenophobia can be used as a condemnation, or simply as a neutral descriptor. It’s not as if Donald Trump invented or created xenophobia, but like everything else, he merely uncovered its suppressed grip on our polite timidity. Collective distrust of outside forces that vilely intrude upon, and threaten, American homeland serenity have been vocalized by Trump, openly recognized, and thus have started the ball of discussion rolling.

 

Things that lurked in the unspoken background of the American perspective but never showed their face in the daylight of open public discussion are now unveiled. Donald Trump has taken what was once the fodder of anonymous internet posting and shined the spotlight of public recognition.

 

This is a good thing. Overly polite inhibition of collective expression is what America does not need right now if we wish to escape Europe’s spiral.

 

 

Comey’s Charade.

Monday, March 28th, 2016

 

charade

 

I can’t put my finger on it, but this is the first word that came to mind when I learned today that the Justice Department, the same department which once desperately begged Apple and other encryption users to provide back-doors which would render their impenetrable encryption vulnerable to the prying eyes of the American government (which of course only ever has our well-being in mind), and which led FBI director James Comey to suggest, in December, that firms providing encryption in their products should “rethink their business models.”

 

Hold that thought.

 

The Justice Department doesn’t need help anymore.

 

They found it in the guise of a mysterious “third party” which has graciously lent a helping hand in deconstructing the powerful encryption on the iPhone belonging to San Bernardino terrorist, Syed Rizwan Farook. Suddenly, the Justice Department no longer needs our help or that of lawyers. They can do it on their own, with the help of their deus ex machina code-breaking moment.

 

I sense an untrustworthy charade by Comey and Company. As recently as March 1, the Justice Department maintained that the iPhone’s encryption was beyond the scope of their code-breakers. Now, in the span of a week (last Monday we learned this day was coming…)

 

This navigational course the Feds and their intelligence outfits have taken since the San Bernardino attacks seems dubious, at best. How does such an obscure and seemingly insurmountable encryption, in the span of a week, crumble to pieces without some elemental trace of mischief or concerted sorcery?

 

Have the Feds been sitting on this magic solution longer than they tell us? If so, why the ploy to get Apple to spill the beans (knowing they wouldn’t) and, having been unsurprisingly rebuffed by Cupertino, appear to be launching a bitter counteroffensive that will leave a nice dripping egg all over Apple’s collective corporate reputation, which of course, is predicated largely on its robust security.

 

 

A case of the stupidest protesters ever.

Saturday, March 26th, 2016

 

So the dimwits in California “won” this battle.  The minimum wage in California is headed to $15/hour, the highest in the country.

 

 

California legislators and labor unions on Saturday reached a tentative agreement that will take the state’s minimum wage from $10 to $15 an hour, a state senator said, a move that would make for the largest statewide minimum in the nation by far.
Sen. Mark Leno, D-San Francisco, who stressed that the deal was not yet finalized, told The Associated Press the proposal would go before the Legislature as part of his minimum-wage bill that stalled last year.
Leno said the deal would avoid taking the issue to the ballot. One union-backed initiative has already qualified for the ballot, and a second, competing measure is also trying to qualify.
“This is an issue I’ve been working on for many years,” Leno said. “The governor and stakeholders have all been negotiating earnestly and in good faith for some time.”
Leno did not confirm specifics of the agreement, but most proposals have the wage increasing about a dollar per year until it reaches $15 per hour.

 

Fast-food serving morons act as if they’ve won a battle when in fact, they’ve merely served the elites with a fast-track notice to ramp up robotic upgrades.  I guess the labor demographic is not exactly the most long-term focused, is it?

 


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