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.
