Deal maker extraordinaire. Everything hinges on the deal.

I’m tired of that word. Anyone else tired of that word, and the one who uses it all the time?

What’s astonishing is that most of us have known people like Donald Trump—the bloviating loudmouth, the insecure and deprived braggard who missed out on parental guidance worth its salt, along with an important developmental step or two. The kind of person who elicits fear and trepidation when envisioning a scenario in which he somehow rises to prominence and lets loose with all the pent-up frustration and mismanaged anger.

He has lied his way to the top. He has tapped into a disturbingly large vein of hatred and ignorance, given people permission to stay stuck and stewing in their small worlds. Worst of all, in his own ignorance he has preached someone else’s skewed vision for America, because he is incapable of coherence and developing one on his own.

Dear Donald, not everything can be reduced to the art of the deal. Besides, the art of the deal isn’t exactly art. And life as you envision it is actually more complicated than a series of transactions.

So, fuck off.

We just had an invite to go to church, and I had little desire to do that.

I resent how guilty this makes me feel, but the reality of it is that we hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, it would have been a rush to get ready, and it would have been difficult to concentrate on the service because the kids are young and not that interested and a bit of a distraction.

And the pastor is an older hellfire and brimstone guy who lays down the law and rambles on. I grew tired of that style and that message a long time ago: much scripture quoted, but not much depth, really. The kind of sermon that comes across as power trip, feels more like an assault than an attempt at preaching law and gospel and giving us something to chew on.

The excuses come easy when I guess I’m not convinced anymore that there is anything worth chewing on.

“And all this madness, all this rage, all this flaming death of our civilization and our hopes, has been brought about because a set of official gentlemen, living luxurious lives, mostly stupid, and all without imagination or heart, have chosen that it should occur rather than that any one of them should suffer some infinitesimal rebuff to his country’s pride.” -Bertrand Russell

It’s good to have goals when fighting a war. At least that’s what I’ve been hearing for a while now. I imagine that objectives are important, planning is important, a clear reason for entering a conflict where lives will be on the line is important. Though I suppose the best laid plans can be challenged by a tenacious enemy.

The temptation among some is to immediately go on the offensive, but it has never been clear to me why someone would want to start a war—unless it is a last resort, and intended to force the issue of independence and relief from oppressive rule.

I’m sure there are those who would say that war is a part of life, that war is inevitable, even necessary. I included the quote from Bertrand Russell in a much earlier post, but brought it back here because Russell was referring to the insanity of WWI, the absolute depravity of war in general, along with the often-vacuous, vain, imbecilic and selfish reasons behind fomenting such violence.

Some things, sadly, haven’t changed, and we find ourselves still dealing with conflicts around the world. Our current involvement in Iran weighs heavy on anyone who’s had enough of this nonsense, who may wonder how long it will be until we turn a corner on such primal urges, such costly gaffs.

Apparently, it will be a while yet.

To add insult to injury, Donald Trump and the cast of inept sycophants around him appear to have started a war as a distraction, with no clear objectives and little planning except as it serves Benjamin Netanyahu’s goals.

Trump is one of those official gentlemen of which Mr. Russell spoke– indeed living a luxurious life, mostly stupid, without imagination or heart, thin-skinned, easily offended, and so lacking in decency that he thinks nothing of sending our troops into harm’s way if it helps avert the world’s gaze from his and the Heritage Foundation’s depraved agendas.

Good for Jen Psaki. She didn’t lead with the Lake America drivel. In fact, I’m not sure she mentioned it all, though I didn’t watch until the end of the show. At least it wasn’t Story 1, or even 2.

This is the way media should treat the swill emanating daily from Washington. Just disregard the dumbness and finally focus on the things they don’t want us to be noticing, like election tampering and immigration tactics and monumental grift and the Epstein files and a complete disregard for kitchen table issues.

One if these days, Republicans in Congress will have seen enough. Right?

Right?

When we read about an Executive Order that changes the name of Lake Ontario to Lake America, we might ponder for a moment before realizing who’s done this. Even knowing that it was Donald Trump, we may still hold out for the possibility that there is a method to his madness, some plot twist or stroke of genius yet to be revealed.

This might be why he still gets away with doing the next ridiculous, hair-brained thing—people are wondering what The Donald has up his sleeve, when the brilliance of the tactic will be revealed.

Of course, there is no brilliance. It’s just the next dumb, infantile thing Donald does to distract from something else more consequential. So, we best keep our ears and eyes peeled, eh?

I’m sure Canada is beside itself.

It’s the time factor, as in, “How long, Lord?”

Well, that, and life is often blindsided by random viciousness and calamity, where one moment it unfolds in a nondescript way, and in the next moment it’s snuffed out by a thunderous, staggeringly massive, angry and other-worldly wall of water and mud and debris.

I’ve watched a few videos of the beyond-Biblical, epochal avalanche and flooding in Nepal, and I’m once again reminded that people will start asking where God was, or why such a thing could possibly happen to innocent people just going about their day.

And there will be nothing but crickets in response, or at best paltry efforts at letting God off the hook, or the old classic: “That’s life in a fallen world.”

What I’m becoming more convinced of is a more logical truth: life on earth is a crapshoot, and humans have a tendency toward believing that bad things can’t happen to them—even when they decide to populate topography like steep-walled canyons with a river running through it in proximity to the Himalayas and glaciers and avalanche threats.

Earth has no reverence for us. Earth is Earth, with its currents and ecosystems and forces that operate despite our attempts to harness or limit or abuse. Earth is dynamic. It may be wounded, but it will seek and find some level of homeostasis, with or without us.

As much as it troubles me to write these words, I’m becoming increasingly of the mind that God has nothing to do with this disaster, or us. And “How long, Lord?” is a mere scream into the void.

😦