Tommy CarcettiTommy Carcetti's Journal
The argument that Trump winning is a good thing because it will only serve to inspire true liberals to rally and bring about a progressive revolution--basically what is being championed by people like Susan Sarandon--is an ultimately flawed one. Even if it is well-intentioned, I don't see it succeeding.
Why is it so flawed? Because of who Donald Trump is. The reasons that Donald Trump is so loathsome and so offensive and so odious is not merely a matter of partisan politics or ideology. Rather, it's the inherent nature of the man--his narcissism, his megalomania, his vindictiveness, his impulsive anger, and yet his paradoxical incompetence or outright refusal to delve in deeper to various issues in order to come up with solutions on his own. All of these attributes are not merely the markings of a bad conservative or a bad Republican. Instead, they're simply markings of a bad human being and leader, period. Democrats would be just as ill served to have Donald Trump as their leader just as much as Republicans.
Donald Trump is such a horrifically flawed leader and human being that he pretty much makes anyone else a more attractive alternative.
Right now, America and even Democrats would be willing to suffer through four years of President Mike Pence if it means Donald Trump implodes in flames and crashes and burns.
Right now, George W. Bush--a man who lead the country into an unnecessary and destabilizing war and who oversaw an economic collapse--is viewed as a more palatable alternative than Donald Trump. George W. Bush. Yes, really. George W. Bush. That's astonishing yet sadly the truth, that George W. Bush, who merely eight years ago we all thought was the true bottom of the barrel when it came to US Presidents, is no longer the standard bearer for terrible leadership. And yet, it's pretty much a sad reality. Even as terrible as George W. Bush was, Donald Trump is indeed worse and a greater threat to our long-term stability as a country.
So if the overall effect of the Trump Presidency is to grab America by the neck and hold it there until it cries "Uncle!", whatever follows next--sparing possibly a President George Zimmerman--would be viewed by the public as a better option. And it wouldn't necessarily be Bernie Sanders who comes to our rescue. Or even Hillary Clinton. It could be someone like Mike Pence, who could still impose a lot of long term damage to the country minus the inherently dangerous Mutually Assured Destruction element that Donald Trump has brought us.
Those on the hard, hard left--as admirably principled as they may be--fail to see the forest through the trees in the situation. Not everyone shares their worldview, even if maybe they ought to. Not everyone will be rushing to have Donald Trump replaced by a progressive, ideologically pure icon of the left. There are a lot of people who will settle for anything to avoid the seemingly certain death Donald Trump will bring to this country.
That is why it was a foolish, short-sighted mistake to think that we'd rather deliver the country to the clutches of Donald Trump then have another four years of moderate, left of center leadership in the form of Hillary Clinton. Yes, the entire country will soon be screaming to be saved from Donald Trump. We're already starting to get that sense already. But not everyone will be calling for a true-blue progressive revolution, even if they ought to be doing so. So while there's a chance that type of revolution would come around, I wouldn't necessarily keep your hopes up that it will.
**EXCLUSIVE** White House releases transcript of telephone call between Flynn and Russian ambassadorNote: On December 29, 2016, former National Security Advisor Michael Flynn spoke with the Russian Ambassador to the United States, Sergei Kislyak. The conversation took place shortly after President Obama had ordered additional sanctions on the Russian Federation over what they believe was Russia's interference in the U.S. political process. In light of recent events and accusations surrounding the administration, President Trump, and General Flynn, the White House has made the decision to release the entire transcript of the conversation between General Flynn and Ambassador Kislyak so that the media (FAKE NEWS!) is not able to distort the events that actually took place and falsely libel former or current members of the Trump Administration. The conversation, in full:
(Dial tone, followed by three rings and a pick up)
Sergei Kislyak (SK), Russian Ambassador to the United States: Hello?
Michael Flynn (MF): Hello, I'd like to place an order to go. I'll take one extra large, half cheese, half pepperoni--
SK: Who is this?
MF: A large sausage, some stuffed cheesy bread--
SK: Who is this?
MF: A medium veggie lovers, just because, you know there's just always going to be someone who asks for that--
SK: Who is this that is speaking?
MF: This is Michael Flynn. This is Domino's pizza, right?
SK: No, this is not pizza place. This is Sergei Kislyak, Russian ambassador.
MF: Oh. Oh, I'm sorry.
SK: It okay. Don't worry. I get this wrong number a lot. People call up, ask for pizza, it be very annoying. I think there is one number different.
MF: You know, the same thing happens to me? Except for me, it's Wendy's. People call up and keep asking for Wendy's. Which doesn't even make sense, because Wendy's doesn't even deliver, so why would anyone be calling them?
SK: You right, you right, it makes no sense at all.
(Five second silent period)
MF: Hey, did you see Moana?
SK: Actually, yes, I did. I take grandchild. Lovely film. I love, who he called?
MF: The Rock.
SK: Yes! The Rock.
MF: Do you smell...
SK/MF (together): ...what The Rock is cooking!
(Laughter, followed by another five second silent period)
SK: Say, Michael, while I have you on the phone--
SK: Well, I like to talk to you about san-
MF: The San Francisco 49ers? Bad, bad season for them. Looks like Chip Kelly's out the door. Maybe the same for Kapernick. But hey, if they draft well enough--
SK: No, I really like to talk about san-
MF: Sangria wine? Great for parties. Made some for our family Christmas get together this year. The key is to get good juicing oranges. Valencias, not navels--
SK: No, no, no, no wine. I mean san--
MF: Santa Claus? What did Santa Claus bring this year? Well, I'll just say that somebody got themselves a new X-Box........
SK: Sanctions! I talk about new sanctions President Obama put on Russia today!
MF: Whoa, whoa! Hold on there, partner. I've got to be very clear here. Donald Trump's not the president yet. So whatever decisions President Obama makes are his, and I can't comment on them, nor can I make any promises right now on whether or not we'll be able to lift them once we get to office. You understand that doing that right now would be highly inappropriate and probably illegal, right?
SK: Yes, yes, certainly. Don't worry about it. Besides, I'm sure my boss will probably just throw out weird statement like, "It okay. I no expel US diplomats in retaliation."
MF: Of course, and then my guy would be like, "Great move on delay by Putin. I always knew he was very smart!"
SK: He probably Tweet it!
(More laughter, followed by another five second silent period)
MF: You know who I should probably mention that I'm having this conversation with? Mike Pence.
SK: Mike Pence? He man everyone ignore at Republican convention, right?
MF: Yeah, but he's just a swell guy. Just a really great guy. And of course I should always mention everything I do to him so that he has his input. I mean, since he's going to be Vice President and all.
SK: Yes, yes. Of course. But you know?
SK: It the holidays right now. He relax, he on vacation. You tell him now, chances are he forget. Very annoying.
MF: Hmm, you might be right. So you're saying maybe I should wait a little bit?
SK: Just little bit. Maybe.....maybe wait until Valentine's Day. You know, say it with chocolates.
MF: That's not a bad idea.
SK: Or maybe even Easter, or Fourth of July, or Labor Day....Oh, I know!
SK: You tell him on one-year anniversary of today! December 29, 2017! You take him to dinner, look in his eye, and say, "Mike Pence, you very special to me. I love to tell you everything. Like one year ago today I talk to Russian ambassador."
MF: Oh, that's perfect. Sergei, you are an absolute genius!
SK: Oh, stop! I just....know people.
MF: It's going to be a blast working with you.
SK: But you no worry about this upcoming year. US and Russia, Putin and Trump, they going to be great friends. We no mention at all how Trump owe so, so much money to Russia businessmen. Nor we mention time he pay for prostitute to pee on bed.
MF: Well, thanks, that's very good to know.
SK: And we certainly no mention about time when Trump in Moscow and Russian mafia take him and force him to be hit man for them and kill those four people.
MF: Well, yeah, that just goes without saying.
SK: Well, I better let you go now. Sounds like you have pizza you want to eat.
MF: Yeah, yeah, you're probably right.
SK: Oh, wait, Michael. One more thing.
SK: Sangria recipe. You must give it to me, okay?
MF: Oh, of course. You won't regret it, trust me.
SK: We all have it together one day. You, me, Donald, Vlad. Don't forget to invite Rex. He love drinking with Vlad. They do shots, crazy stuff happen, lots of people die. Very much fun. You never forget it.
MF: Sounds like a plan. Talk to you soon, Sergei.
SK: Da svidahnia, Michael.
(Phone disconnects, end of call.)
The Bowling Greens was the name of an extremely successful bowling team from Mason City, Iowa comprised of four brothers: Earl Green, Bob Green, Phil Green and Billy Green. Together, they formed a seemingly unstoppable powerhouse in the North Central Iowa Summer Bowling League that won six consecutive league championships from 1949 through 1954.
However, what happened on the fateful evening of June 27, 1955 would shake the close-knit bowling community of Cerro Gordo County forever.
It was a tragedy of unmistakable proportions. The four brothers were scheduled to compete in the famed Shibboleth Open that night. All four men planned to arrive at the Mason City Lanes separately an hour before the tournament was slated to begin. Yet for reasons that challenge the faith in the almighty of many, God choose to pick all four men off one by one in most cruel of fashions.
It was Phil Green who was the first victim. While driving his milk delivery truck, a cat ran out in front of him. As his widow would attest, her husband was an avid animal lover who could not stand to see any creature in peril. He quickly swerved his truck to avoid the creature, but was unable to avoid the stately oak tree that would greet the front of his truck. Police announced Phil dead at the scene.
Next to go was Billy Green. A highly superstitious man, Billy had bowled seven consecutive games over 250, which he attributed to the fact that he had neglected to shave on the first day of his lucky streak. As such, Billy had developed quite a finely coifed beard during the time. However, as he refused to be beholden to slovenliness, he insisted that the beard remained neatly trimmed with a pair of scissors he kept by his sink. After taking a shower before preparing to head off to the lanes, Billy walked towards the mirror and grabbed his scissors. What he forgot was the discarded remnants of his bar of Lifebuoy directly below him. Maneuvering to trim his beard, he inadvertently stepped on the soap on the floor. He lost his footing, and the scissors in his hand were rammed directly into his throat. Undoubtedly his last moments bleeding out were most painful and he likely cursed the facial hair that up to this point had given him so much good fortune.
Unlike their brothers Phil and Billy, Bob Green and Earl Green both made it to the Mason City Lanes that evening, but they would not escape the night's fate. Earl arrived first, and not seeing any of his brothers at the time, proceeded to start a practice round of his own to hone his game. While clutching a can of Heileman's Old Style in his right hand, on the sixth frame he approached the ball return to take his lucky ball that he had nicknamed Marsha. As luck would have it though, while shampooing the rug, the alley's maintenance man had ripped a seam in the carpet that morning right below the ball return. Unlike Billy's fatal fall, Earl's stumble over the shorn rug was quite mild. But it was enough to send his Old Style flying toward the ball return, soaking the mechanism. Not one for expertise on electronic machinery, Earl didn't see the harm in reaching for Marsha as the suds bubbled and fizzed on the return. What awaited him was a shock, quite literally a deadly one that was powerful enough to stop his heart. People around him called for help and rushed to his side, but it would not turn out well.
In a cruel twist of fate, Bob Green arrived at the Mason City Lanes on the opposite eastern side of the building, as opposed to the western side he usually came in. As such, he missed the legion of paramedics wheeling his brother Earl out the door on the western side in preparation for what would be an ultimately futile ride to the hospital. Not seeing his brothers there, and being rather hungry at that, Bob proceeded over to the lane's concession stand and ordered himself his regular choice of a hotdog with fries. Unbeknownst to Bob, however, that week the lane had ceased its orders from its regular hot dog supplier, Walter and Sons Family Farms, and had instead gone with the more economic option in Stenson's Pork and Meat. Stenson's had a notorious reputation of trying to lower the overhead by cutting quality control, and in what would blossom to a statewide pandemic, it released upon the unsuspecting public dozens of trichinosis laden frankfurthers. Bob was naturally unaware of this fact, and finished the dog and the fries in good order. What first he suspected as nothing but a routine visit to the lane's lavatory ultimately manifested itself into something way more horrid. Guests at the lane standing outside the door were horrified by the sound of Bob's projectile vomiting echoing against the tiled walls. Eventually, the lane's manager mustered the bravery to burst through the restroom door, only to find Bob splayed on the floor, completely unresponsive and covered in his own half-digested stomach contents.
By the scheduled 8:00 pm start time of the 1955 Shiboletth Open, none of the Bowling Greens remained alive on this earth.
The community was rocked to its core. The remaining North Central Iowa Summer Bowling League season was cancelled, and the pall of the death of the Bowling Greens refusing to leave, it officially disbanded the following year. The entire city was awash in mourning, unable to comprehend the unspeakable tragedy that had befallen four of its proudest citizens. Perhaps a silver lining to the story might be found in the fact that a local doo wop band, Frankie Ford and the Kickers, penned a memorial anthem entitled "The Ballad of the Bowling Greens", which rose to the top of the charts in the Midwest and provided the group with notable but brief time in the spotlight before internal squabbling befell the band.
Officially, the deaths of all four of the Bowling Greens were ruled accidents--cruel, horrific and freakish but entirely explainable accidents. Some of the Bowling Greens contemporaries in the league, however, still subscribe to a much more nefarious theory. It is their heartfelt belief that what is known today as the Bowling Greens Massacre was not merely a series of horribly unfortunate events, but rather in fact premeditated foul play by the Bowling Greens' most heated rival, the Simpson Strikes. The Bowling Greens had defeated the Simpson Strikes by a mere two points in the 1954 league championship, and the Simpson Strikes emphatically protested that the Bowling Greens had incurred numerous technical violations during the tournament. The league--which the Simpson Strikes believed to be heavily influenced by the luster the Bowling Greens had provided over the years--refused to overturn the results, and many claimed that John Simpson (the team's senior member) had vowed revenge against the Bowling Greens at all costs.
To this day, rumors swirl that it was John's cat set loose upon Phil Green's truck; that he had placed the soap under Billy Green's sink; that he had paid off the lane's maintenance man to rip a hole underneath Earl Green's ball return; and that he had convinced the lane's management to switch to the poisoned Stenson's hot dog that Bob Green consumed.
But all that remains merely as rumors, rumors spread and possible exaggerated down through the generations, and authorities have repeatedly denied that the death of the Bowling Greens was nothing other than a terrible twist of fate. But whether it be merely a horrible cascade of entirely coincidental carnage, or cold hearted murder most devious, many in North Central Iowa to this very day shudder at the mere mention of the phrase that has come to memorialize the unspeakable tragedy: The Bowling Greens Massacre.
Now, why would Kellyanne Conway be talking about this? To be honest.....I have no fucking clue.
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