Game recognize game

Now.

Then.

These numbnuts are deeply ignorant, profoundly stupid, and utterly incompetent. It's their good luck, and the rest of our misfortunes, that their MAGAt party is even more ignorant and stupid and cares nothing for competence so long as they get the performative spite and malice they crave.

And there is no remedy for them in the Constitutional system. No checks. No balances. Nothing.

The United States is now a Stupid Fascist state in fact, if not in name, and if We the People don't want that, well...history shows the path from autocracy to republicanism is ugly, brutal, and very often futile at least in the short and even medium term. 

The Revolution of 1789 led to military dictatorship by 1800 and decades of ruinous war. The Revolution of 1917 led to partisan dictatorship by 1921 and decades of brutal immiseration. Our own revolution was only prevented from a similar fate by a unique combination of individual probity and isolation from neighboring Great Powers.

So, no. There is no Good Way past this disaster.

The trope of 1776 is that roughly a third of the then-American colonies was Loyalist, a third were rebels, and the remaining third just wanted to keep their heads down. Logistical difficulties, strategic incoherence, and Great Power rivalry with France ensured the rebellion became revolution and overthrow of the ruling order.

We certainly have ruling incoherence and economic difficulty from the fascists.

But we have no Power to come to our aid, and the internal division is even less favorable; the fascists run from about 30% - the true hardcore MAGAts - to 40% and the "heads-down" lumpen herdbeasts are another 30-40%. The police and military will obey The Chief Executive; there is no competing "Garde National" or rebellious militias to opposed regime gunfire with rebel gunfire.

We are, in fact...

 

I honestly have no words of hope or encouragement. I can't figure out a way to overthrow these sonsofbitches short of actual violent rebellion, and history also shows how often that goes badly for the rebels.

The time for phone banking and postcard writing is past.

But I can't stand the idea of simply bending the knee to these people. Is it time for building IEDs? How can that ever work? 

I can only stand, shaking with rage, as my country devolves before my burning eyes.

Make stupid wars. Collect stupid prizes

That the Trump Klown Kabinet could fuck up a military wet dream?

Color me shocked by that. Shocked!

One of the most interesting takes on this is Garrett Graff's piece here:  

It sums up the multivariate fuckups, idiocies, and "scandals" (if such a thing can be applied to these shameless nitwits - you have to have the ability to feel shame to be "scandalized", and these garden tools have none) involved in the now-apparently-called "Signalgate" nonsense.

I don't really give a shit. These people have done and will do worse. This is just another Tuesday in Yemen and the worthless Trump 2: Electric Boogaloo Administration. Oh, wait, more dead people? Yawn.

No.

It's what it exposes about the pure, crystalline stupidity that has been the U.S. "policy" in the Middle East, Trumpian and otherwise.

Seriously...what the fuck did these nimrods think a dozen bombs, smart or otherwise, would do in Yemen?

The place has been a clusterfuck since, well...in the modern era? The Sixties, when the place split into two north-south halves and proceeded to indulge in various bloody debates over who should be the boss of whom.

Throw in the usual - corruption, poverty, famine - and you've got the classic Middle Eastern recipe for misery.

So how does hucking a dozen or so kinetic weapons into random apartment buildings "help" with that?

Hint: it doesn't.

This was, apart from the awesome level of bureaucratic incompetence - people on their iPhones in the Kremlin cafeteria, random journos in on the chat, schoolboy emojis - the ultimate in worthlessly performative "war". This was the equivalent of the story in Tony Herbert's Vietnam memoir where he runs down the list of target effects and comes across one labeled "emplacements destroyed" and wonders how you "destroy" a hole by blowing it into a bigger hole.

For a couple of cool million in ordnance, fuel, equipment wear, and personnel costs this nonsense only made the Yemeni rubble bounce. 

I'm sure Elon Musk will get on this "waste" just as soon as he gets done kicking all us "fraudsters" off Social Security.

WASF.

Twenty-three

 Hey, you! C'mere, let me give you a hug. You're not too big for that yet, are you?

Of course you're not. You're, well, still tiny, still only one day old. This one day, twenty-three years ago, when you left us, your mom and I, just a day after you arrived.

The only place your grew up was in our hearts.

This day, and all those before and after. The days I dreamed of and hoped for and never had. Dreamed of all the things we'd do together; good...and bad, happy and sad, cheerful or angry or bored or silly.

They never happened, did they, dearest?

Now there's only this day, the day you climb up the dark stairwell and sit beside me as I cry.

Because I still miss you.

Oh, yes; there's your little brother and little sister. Yes, they're great. I love them to pieces, and always will.

But today is about you, the big sister they never had, the little girl and young woman I never got to know.

This year was even harder because I'm not just missing you but missing your mom. The first time in twenty-three years we haven't had a partner to console each other, a friend and lover to give and receive comfort. 

I called your mom today. Told her that she was in my heart, and hoped that she could find some solace in that, find some peace. It's hard on her, y'know. She carried you closer than her own skin, slept behind your heartbeat for three-quarters of a year. She dies a little every time this year thinking of and missing you.

And so do I, in a different way.

Because every year, every time this day comes, I look into the darkness for the tiny flame that was your too-brief stay with us, to remember you, to grieve for you. To wish against all the years that we had another chance, knowing we never will. 

To have the years of you, child and girl and woman grown, father and daughter, loving and beloved.

So. Sit beside me for a little while. I promise I won't try and hold you when you have to go. But just now, for this time, just for this day, let me sit and dream the dream I dreamed, the dream of the you that never came.

Bryn Rose Gellar
March 1, 2002 - March 2, 2002