And she’s gone. Five days. New record. “Half a Scaramucci.” Donald is feeling the heat of an impending midterm challenge, and he needed to cut his losses. Goodbye, Ms. Zacharia, and good riddance.
Ah yes, a new day, college game day, the consummate distraction on tap, respite from the storms, something that keeps us anchored in a preferred reality, helps us feel like things are normal when they’re far from that.
Seventeen days from the midterm elections. Seventeen days from finding out if a sense of hope is warranted, or if it’s just gonna be more of that sinking feeling. I prefer to think that George Carlin was off base regarding his resignation and futility in thinking that our votes make any difference– that in reality, our precious right to cast a ballot is mere window dressing and balm for all who have been told that this “responsibility” is something sacred, something we preserve at any cost, and not just a paltry whisper in a windstorm.
We should all be tired of being played and lied to and underestimated.
