Sunday, January 7, 2018

The Last Gasps of the Dinosaurs

I was planning to write another post about Trump and his minions a couple of days ago, but in the meantime, Bannon turned around and APOLOGIZED for his inflammatory comments about Trump and his family. So now I’ve got to comment on this. I mean, who writes this stuff? It’s better over-the-top drama than most of what you’ll find in the theater these days, better than the worst soap opera out there. It’s bromance, folks—bromance between Trump and Bannon. They’ve had a tiff and they’ll be making up soon. Bannon has already held out the olive branch. Now Trump just needs to take it. Because you understand what happened here. Bannon, like a jilted lover, decided to take a little revenge on Trump, to make him pay for how he badly he treated him. We’re talking pride here—the old male dinosaur wounded pride. Remember the old expression ‘Hell has no fury like a woman scorned’? Methinks this expression can now be applied to men too; in fact, it always could be, because men can be amazingly vengeful when they want to be. Bannon’s fury has now abated. He got what he wanted—the attention he seeks, all eyes on him. His fifteen extra minutes of fame. And in addition, the entire country is about to make Michael Wolff a millionaire many times over. Maybe Wolff will cut him in on some of the profits. I’m guessing Trump and Bannon will kiss and make up, and then we’ll be subject to more of Trump’s tweets talking about what a great guy Bannon is. And that the media reports of his having said that Bannon had ‘lost his mind’ are more evidence of fake news. Wait and see.

It’s just that I, like so many other Americans, want to be spared this farcical circus. I literally cringe every time I see either one of them on TV. I cringe when I realize this is what we present to the world. The lack of intelligence, civility, logic, rationality, and strategic thinking is glaring. GLARING. As in, sun-blinding. You can’t find the shadows, can’t find cover, can’t find a safe place to protect yourself from it. You can’t escape them and the old dinosaur chaos they represent. Everywhere you turn, the old dinosaurs are there, lumbering and lurching forward, crushing everything in their path on their way to oblivion. Because that’s where they’re headed. I just wish they'd get there already. I’m hoping that #Metoo is the huge comet that takes out most of them. It’s already a societal force to be reckoned with, having destroyed a good number of the old dinosaurs’ careers. Will we miss them? The answer is a resounding NO.

The last gasps of the dinosaurs. I feel sorry for the real ones, but not for these old men. They’ve ruined lives, careers, dreams, ambitions. They ruin people. They use them up and spit them out. But they’re sinking into the mire that will trap them for posterity. I can hear them gasping for breath—the bloated, overfed, pompous, arrogant, infamous, small-brained creatures—and they deserve all of the vengeance that society will wreak upon them. I just hope that the non-dinosaurs will be spared. It would be terrible to have to share posterity with them mired in the same mud.