Truth loses its meaning in American political discourse.

This is an egregious MSNBC hit piece on the Donald.

The smug lefties (ie, Chris Matthews) at the network presume to possess such precious insight, such unadulterated political vision, that they alone are capable of defining and setting the boundaries of “truth” in the American political arena.

Does the Trump voter care about the truth?” they dare to postulate with the bottomless condescension of smug know-it-all’s.

All true political believers are suspect, if you ask me. Trump voters, Hillary voters, Jeb voters, Ted voters, Bernie voters…it’s endless.

Do any of the respective voters “care” about the truth any more or less than Trump voters?

Besides, what is the truth? The truth, in political discourse, is fluid and entirely relative when followers are asked to support and cheer their candidate.

In the American political arena, there is no truth, there is only heated discussion. Of course Donald Trump’s voters don’t care about any truth that does not support their guy’s run, but can we honestly say that Carly Fiorina’s supporters are the height of analytical, cold objectivity?

Cheering Arabs, cheering Israelis…what’s the difference. It’s all about the Trump Method.

So…the Donald is still talking up his Thousand-Muslim Celebration thing from last week.

First, he hedged, but now he’s standing firm. He won’t let it rest, and neither will the news media or the American public. Frankly, it is the most pointless public argument I have ever witnessed.

Who cares what Donald Trump saw that day? Does it justify or give credence to anything that might be up for dispute? If he saw thousands of Muslims celebrating, good for him. That’s probably just a fraction of the total number of Muslims who celebrated globally on September 11, 2001. In which case, I would like to lend my condolences to Donald for seeing only a glimpse of the harsh reality he boasts of…

Of course Muslims celebrated. It was a wonderful day for them. They toppled our symbolic centers of commerce and killed thousands of greedy infidels while they were at it. Of course they were happy…they won the battle.

Now then, if this matter had died quickly, and if Donald had backed down and changed the subject or fixated on a new blasphemy, I would not have cared, and I presume, neither would many others. But Donald persisted, as he is prone to do. It got me to thinking, this thing about the Arabs.

I remember 9/11, vividly, for I am old. So much info was dancing around our heads and living rooms that day. It was an overload of data, of facts, of anecdotes, of fleeting news reports; I taped the whole day’s news footage on my VHS while I was at work. The sheer amount of coverage that 9/11 received was mind-boggling.

But there was one news report that was conjured anew in my memory thanks to Donald’s reluctance to let go of this Thousand-Muslim Celebration. The one “celebration” that was covered and reported that day was the strangely repressed incident in which five Israeli’s were arrested as they headed into New York City in a van belonging to a moving company that linked them back, via an anonymous eyewitness earlier in the day, to a group of men who were reported to be “happily cheering” as September 11 unfolded from across the bay, in a New Jersey parking lot, while they filmed the smoking Twin Towers.

The arresting police officers were surprised, upon extracting the driver and passengers, to discover they were not Muslim terrorists; they were in fact Israelis.

The mysterious incident, and arrests, unlike anything Donald Trump touches, lacked legs and received little attention in the ensuing years.

Eventually, the five subjects were arrested but were released a couple of months later without great fanfare. According to an Israeli magazine, two of the subjects worked for the Mossad. In fact, many of the suspicions pertaining to this narrative rest upon the clear, pre-ordained involvement of Israel in the events of 9/11/01. Upon reading the allegations and suspicions regarding the Israelis’ adventures that day, one is led to wonder, and suspicions are strong enough to warrant further investigation. A couple of links provide great, chilling detail:

The Five Dancing “Israelis” Arrested On 9-11

Dancing Israelis

It was against this backdrop that I found myself scoffing at Donald Trump’s tiresome, pig-headed assertions of first-hand witnessing of the Thousand-Muslim Celebration, but as with everything else Donald Trump becomes embroiled in lately, I wisely stepped back.

I am supporting his run because his promise of upheaval of the conventions and civilities of political discourse are too tantalizing to discount, but let’s be real: his method is becoming transparent to those with eyes.

Donald Trump is all about the ulterior, the motive. He is a shrewd strategist.

I firmly believe there are no “accidents” in the World of Trump.

The Trump Method is manipulation, it’s smoke and mirrors. The Trump Method’s aim is to distort reality such that once he inserts his own dose of antidote, reality reforms into a shape that we resume to call our own but whose genesis is still rooted entirely in the Trump genome.

It’s genius, really.

Donald Trump doesn’t give a flying anything about celebrating Muslims in the United States. He didn’t see this firsthand, but he’s cloaked the statements with enough plausible deniability to buy him some time and credibility in order for him to open this scab off our national wounds of 9/11 and thus, re-introduce a forgotten piece of national lore that deserves to be examined again.

Who were those Israelis and what relevance does Israel (and the Mossad) now entertain in relation to the unfolding Russia-Turkey conflict?

It’s not the celebrating Muslims that matter. That is a ploy, a tool of the Trump Method. He has flicked that scab right off and is lasciviously eyeing the freshly exposed dialogue sure to follow regarding Israel’s involvement in 9/11 and subsequently, involvement in the downing of the Russian airliner last month.

And if tin foil is too much, the MSM’s “alternative streams” will soon dispatch with the niceties and rekindle old unpleasant truths.

Were Israelis Detained on Sept. 11 Spies?

I suspect Donald Trump saw something, alright, and now he’s unloading his psychic burden upon us. Recollections of dancing Muslims are his inflammatory pathway; we happily open the door and peer in. It’s the Trump Method.

I never knew Sinead O’Connor was such a hot mess…

…and I’m not horribly surprised to find out. One of those people who treats the world like their stage and find it appropriate to constantly unleash their smug self-righteous opinions in steady doses of Chinese-water-tortured torment.

I did like her cover of Prince’s “Nobody Compares 2 U” very much, and I loved her own song, “The Emperor’s New Clothes,” as well.

Cry for help, histrionic diva or the real deal?
Cry for help, histrionic diva or the real deal?

Time to start humming it. The lyrics are quite fitting.

Sinead, recovered Catholic, showing us how she felt about the Pope in 1992.

Some people wear their opinions like a bad haircut. And sometimes, bad haircuts are just…bad haircuts.

Another Black Friday, and yet another stream of retailer moaning, groaning and crocodile tears.

I was telling someone yesterday that it seems we hear the same thing, every year around this time: a mantra repeated around the annual Black Friday rush. It goes something like…

This year will be awful for retail stores! No one is going to shop, no one is going to buy. The stores will be empty and everyone is going broke!

And yet, every year, we are treated to national images of swarms of shoppers acting like little consumerist fiends, circling the nearest sale like piranhas, credit-card blood-lust in their eyes.

Yesterday morning, the streets were empty.

I went to the car wash, did grocery shopping, used the ATM. It was like a ghost town. Everyone was shopping. No one, as far as I could see, was leading a normal life apart from the maddening mall crowds. Yet, the dissonant drumbeat over the radio and television and internet: no one is shopping, you can shoot a cannon in the nearest mall…

And this interesting article in The Atlantic that addresses the seeming discrepancy between empirical experience and apocryphal tales woven annually as a preface to the Black Friday kick-off to the annual Christmas shopping season.

Early Black Friday Sales Numbers Are Bunk

In the article, The Atlantic lays much of the annual shopkeeper’s “the sky is falling” laments to the National Retail Federation’s (NRF) dubious gathering and interpretation of data which seems self-designed to tragically minimize the prospects of this Black Friday’s shopping output.

But there’s another, much less visible, component of this annual tradition: Every year, a man named Barry Ritholtz, an asset manager and contributor to The Washington Post and Bloomberg View, complains about the quality of the NRF’s data and the media’s mindless repetition of it. In last year’s installment of his ongoing rant, he wrote, “I have become a curmudgeon on this.”

Ritholtz is mad about two things. First, he takes issue with the NRF’s methodology. As he explained to the podcast On the Media last year:

What the survey that the National Retail Federation does every year is they ask a group of shoppers, “Hey, what did you spend on holiday shopping last year?” and they get some number, and then say, “Well, what are you going to spend on this year?” And they get a second number and then the difference between those two numbers is how they come up with [it].

In other words, the NRF data that major newspapers rely on is self-reported, and self-reported data on spending is notoriously weak. It’s just not very useful to know what shoppers say they expect their future spending to be. They are going to be wrong. (ShopperTrak, an analytics firm whose data was used by the Times this year to pronounce a “slip” in sales, uses a methodology that Ritholtz finds similarly suspicious.)

But the real meat and potatoes “tin foil” part of this is something I’ve always suspected about the annual bleak holiday shopping outlook propounded in the media. Rather than simple methodical ignorance, the roots of such public pessimism are designed with ulterior motives on the part of sellers and the retail industry.

The second thing that irritates Ritholtz is how this (already questionable) data is used to make claims about consumer sentiment at large. In 2005, the year Ritholtz first aired his grievances (to a reporter at The Wall Street Journal), the NRF estimated that sales the weekend after Thanksgiving were up 22 percent, but holiday spending that season ended up increasing only 1 percent over the previous year. The most egregious instance was in 2009, when the NRF’s 43 percent estimated decrease was rendered ridiculous by the 3 percent increase revealed after an actual tally.

The retail industry engages in smoke and mirrors each Black Friday’s antecedent tales of doom and gloom. To what end, you may ask.

Last year on On the Media, one host, Bob Garfield, posed an important question to Ritholtz. “Why is it in the NRF’s interest to be trading these silly numbers year after year, especially when the numbers point downwards?” he asked. To which Ritholtz replied: “It keeps the shopping season front and center.”

Doesn’t hurt that the public is largely composed of materialistic monkeys easily prone to the power of suggestion.

Buzzfeed is for popular, good-looking normies.

They actually, smugly, presented this “problem” to the internet tonight.

Can You Get Laid Tonight?

It’s not really can, but how and who and what, slight exertion of effort it will take on your part.

In the Buzzfeed world, the sex prequel is all taken care of, like a steamy, shitty television show or IMAX movie. The rest is detailsl

Because we all look exactly like this.
Because we all look exactly like this.

But for a lot of us, details are the lifeblood of our demise.

We don’t all get invited to “bangin'” or “hottie” parties.
Sorry Buzzfeed. You’re the cheerleaders and the class “leaders.”
I was hanging out in the back building that overlooked the side streets. That was how I rolled.