Eight reasons to like Mike Pence

 1. He doesn’t hate homosexuals only homosexuality.

 2. The globe will not warm if he becomes vice president.

 3. At the same time he’s almost invisible, and

 4. he's shiny like a penny. Related to that,

 5. he’s only 1% as bad as Donald Trump. (So in the currency of the Kingdom of Misogynexenophobia, it is indeed 100 pence to the trump.)

 6. His resignation as governor of Indiana elevated Count Chockula to the job.

 7. In Mississippi, his name rhymes with back fence.

 8. Good hair.

Closed for repairs

Back G K W (God knows when).

"No more Trump. No more Trump!"

On August 21 of last year, I suggested that I wasn’t going to write any

more about Donald Trump; and I didn’t (much more) until mid-March of this year, when I advanced several “non-propositions,” still hoping that he would disappear, though acknowledging that “the limits of God’s grace are sometimes too painfully apparent.”   

Among the non-propositions:

1. It is not Trump’s fault that he is a jackass; but it is his fault that he acts like one – and it is our fault when we permit him to.

and

c. Trump follows no one but himself, an ego without a heart and an id without a soul.

“An ego without a heart and an id without a soul” and according to the sign in front of a house on the other end of Main Street . . .

     Well, here is 2 Corinthians 7:13-14. The Lord is speaking to Solomon:

«

When I shut up the heavens so that there is no rain, or command the locust to devour the land, or send pestilence among my people, if my people . . . humble themselves, and pray and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land.

»

I would like to say that the Hebrew for “pestilence” is תרמף – trump. But it’s not; nor do I think that was what the sign-maker thought. (Note: it’s not ובמה either.) Indeed, probably the only thing he or she and I agree on is that we’re in a mess . . . and talking to each other isn’t going to get us out of it.

So no more talking – about Trump – for a while, it’s not that you can’t get your fix on any other street corner in town. No more talking about Trump except for an occasional mel ball drawing on our Facebook page. You can follow us there. Just hit the link over to the right somewhere. And in the meantime . . .

     God bless you. And God bless the United States of America.

H is for honest.

H

honest • 'wī-lē   

     adj. terminus politicus

     1. Lies less than the next guy.

Ex. “Hillary Clinton is fundamentally honest and trustworthy.” – Jill Abramson. In fact, according to PoltiFact, what she says is true or mostly true 60% of the time!

Trump Motors introduces the Cruellus De Ville

I have been casting around, looking for a good definition of cruelty. It’s what I do when I don’t understand something; I try to define terms.  Cruel seems to have come into English from the Old French cru(d)el from the Latin crudelis, meaning “unfeeling, hard-hearted,” related to crudus, “raw, rough, bloody.” In modern English it can express either callous indifference to, or pleasure in causing, another’s pain or suffering.

I am trying to make out what is behind the Republican nominee’s attitude toward . . . any number of people, individuals and groups. Is he callously indifferent, or does he take pleasure in being mean? I suspect the former. (Or, maybe, I hope the former.)

     Granted he is willful; I don’t think he is willfully unkind. I see the man rather as so self-focused he can’t see outside himself. It’s not that he wants to hurt the Khans, for example. Rather he can’t understand them as people that can be hurt as he can be hurt. He doesn’t understand that about anyone else.

     Because for him no one else truly exists – not as he does.

He is road rage, which becomes possible for most of us because we are surrounded by our cars as are those that have enraged us. We have no comprehension of – and we desire no understanding of – those inside those other cars; we only know that they have gotten in the way of what we intended to do. They have no personality, no character, no being other than “that b*****d,” “that stupid b****,” or especially “this what-the-f***(?)-er.”

     Which is possible for almost all of us when we are surrounded by our cars as are those that have enraged us and we have no desire to understand them; we only know that they are in our way.