DANGEROUS TIMES
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Day 283

10/29/2017

 

DONALD TRUMP'S EXCELLENT WEEK

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   “Can I ask you something?” Cat said
   “I guess,” I said. "But it’s late, and I have to get the posting going.”
   “Which makes my question all the more relevant,” Cat said. “How come you just wrote the headline even before we’ve written today’s post?”
   “You mean, before I, Phoebe, wrote the post?” I said. “You hardly ever lift a claw to help, so I end up doing 98 percent of the work around here. All you do is conk out in one of your 384 ‘favorite’ places to nap, while I’m writing my brains out.”
   “So that’s where your brains went,” Cat sneered. “It explains a lot. Is that why all dogs are stupid, or just the pretentious writer-dogs?”
  
  "BUT LET'S CUT right to the chase,” Cat said. “What do you mean by saying that Trump had an excellent week?  People in his own party have been saying some really, really REALLY mean things for several weeks, and last week was no exception.”
   “Cat, I didn’t know you were such a voracious news consumer, but obviously you are not thinking straight," I said.
   "It’s true that two Republican Senators were all over his case, calling Trump all sort of terrible-but-true names,”
  And I proceeded with the list that everybody is sick of hearing by now:
  •     “We must never meekly accept the sundering of our country. The personal attacks, the threats against principles, freedoms and institution, the flagrant disregard for truth and dignity” - that’s from the speech Sen. Jeff Flake, a Republican, gave on the Senate floor last Tuesday.
  •     And another Republican, Sen. Bob Corker – he’s the Republican who Tweeted that “it’s a shame the White House has become an adult day care center,” meaning that Trump has to be watched by his “adult” advisers so he doesn’t start World War III – Corker also kept  bashing Trump.
  •     Earlier, former President George W. Bush, another REPUBLICAN, went after Trump, implying he's a bully, who “provides permission for cruelty and bigotry and compromises the moral education of children.”
  •     And Sen. John McCain, another REPUBLICAN, also earlier had suggested that Trump is leading a retreat from world leadership “for the sake of some half-baked, spurious nationalism cooked up by people who would rather find scapegoats than solve problems.”

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   "AND HOW DOES all that add up to ‘Donald Trump’s Excellent Week?” Cat asked.
   “You might look at what else happened last week,” I said, trying not to sound like I’m smarter that any cat, especially the doddering one I happened to be speaking too.
   I pointed out the obvious: that Flake and Corker have announced they aren’t seeking reelection.
   “That’s bad news for Trump?” I said. “No, Cat, it’s great news for him. He’s just scared off two loudmouths he doesn’t like, who will be replaced by more loyal Republicans. And set an example for other Republicans that they better not to cross the big dog, if you get my meaning.”
    I went on to explain to Cat that George Bush, no matter how impressive his speech, is no longer president, and is not particularly popular in the Republican Party. And sad to say, the John McCain, a true American hero, has a particularly dangerous form of cancer.
    “But, but, BUT,” Cat said, “All of these guys are speaking up. That’s got to count for something.”
   “Not really,” I said, “Last Tuesday, while Flake and Corker were on the attack,  Republican Senators were having lunch with Trump, and giving him what – a piece of their minds? No. They were giving him standing O’s – standing ovations.”
   
   CAT WANTED to know if that was all for Trump’s excellent week.
   Not by a long shot, I told him.
   On Wednesday, a judge shot down the request of 18 – that’s eighteen – states, which had asked for a court injunction, essentially forcing Trump to pay subsidies for poor people to afford Obamacare medical insurance. Even a cat should know that's a victory.
   And it wasn’t all.
   On Thursday, the House passed a measure that puts Trump and the Republicans on track to enact tax “reform,” which likely will help the rich and the corporations, but not the rest of us.
   And also last week, it was reported that Hillary Clinton’s campaign and the Democratic National Committee helped pay for the “dossier” that supposedly showed that that Trump had colluded with Russians who favored him during the election.
   “Wait a minute, my floppy-eared friend,” Cat said. That whole ‘research’ into Trump’s background was started by Republicans.”
   “Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Makes Hillary look slimy, and gives the Republicans a way to claim the whole Russia thing is political.”
   “And there was more, Cat,” I said.
    “Last week, the congressional committees looking into Russia decided to also ‘investigate’ some stuff more about Clinton and former President Obama, as a way of taking the focus away Trump – at least that’s what the Democrats said.”
   “I suppose there’s more,” Cat said in a very tired and gloomy voice.
   
  "WELL, THERE WAS the Halloween party that Trump threw on Friday for kids of reporters who cover the White House,” I said.
   “How is that a bad thing?” Cat asked. “Sounds like a nice gesture, nice way to end the week.”
   “You mean it’s ‘nice’ that Trump told the press corps children, who were dressed up like Star Wars characters and wore other costumes, that he, the President of the United States, doesn’t think much of their parents?
   ‘I cannot believe the media produced such beautiful children.’
   ‘These are beautiful, wonderful children – ughh. You going to grow up to be like your parents?

   Cat looked at me in absolute bewilderment: “You mean, he actually told the kids that their mommies and daddies are ugly jerks?”
   “Fraid so,” I said. “But it’s worse than that. Who in their right minds would let their children anywhere near Donald Trump? I mean, Cat, these reporters are the very people who are supposed know much more than the rest of us just what a terrible, disgraceful, mean, hateful person and serial liar that Donald Trump is.”
   Cat grew very quiet.
   “You are right, for once, Dog Breath,” Cat said finally. “If the media people won’t use good judgement in protecting their own children, what’s that say about their news judgement?”
   Leaving Cat and me in just a terrible mood as we realized that there’s brand new new week in the works, and it's already started.

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Day 268

10/14/2017

 

WHY I SLEEP
A CAT'S STORY

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Oct. 14, 2017


   Editor’s Note: Phoebe is off today. Nothing new about that. But it’s a chance for Cat to be in charge. He wasn’t all that eager, not because he doesn’t mind leadership, but having to “do everything,” as he puts it, means cutting into his normal sleep time, no small matter. But we explained that he has somewhat of a following, which gets impatient having Cat’s viewpoints filtered through Phoebe. Cat says that “In all candor, having 'somewhat of a following' is having a fraction of a fraction, given the size audience for this blog." 

   Yo, Everyone!
   Cat here.

  Faithful readers of On Trump’s Trail will be familiar with the many put-downs(or are they puts-down?), to which I’m subjected by The Dog, our blog’s principle writer, although not our blog’s only or most insightful thinker.
   Phoebe too often mentions my sleep habits as if they are a moral shortcoming, rather than a perfectly normal function, like eating, licking-and-cleaning one's fur and staring out the window. 
   Most recently, for example, in our Day 263 Edition, The Dog made reference to my standing as the “Division 6 Northeast Sleep Champion, 2013-2014-2015-2016.”
   That’s complete bullshit, not to disparage another species’ waste product.  There is no such thing as “Division 6,” a designation implies that the league in which I compete is some minor offshoot of a major one, like Rhode Island’s Pawtucket Red Sox. (We in the animal kingdom appreciate the shorthand title, "PawSox). My friends, there’s only one big playoff  “The Northeast Sleep Championships,” the Major League of Sleep, okay? The rest of it, she got relatively accurately.

   So, the editors asked me to write something on my sleep habits, which is not a particularly challenging assignment (something I practically could do in my sleep).  I’m a patriot, willing to make sacrifices, so here goes:
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   WHY DO I SLEEP?
  • Why not sleep? Do you have better ideas for using the precious little time that the Great Lion has given his subjects while here on Earth? When it comes right down to it, is sleeping any worse than the alternative, especially since the evening of Nov. 8, 2016.
  • Wouldn’t you sleep as much as possible if you shared a house with a dog like Phoebe, who wants to talk about Donald J. Trump every minute, every hour, hour after hour of every day, day and night, day after day, night after night, week after week, month after month? So I ask you: Given the choice, would you rather obsess about Trump all day and night? Or sleep all day and all night? So, Pal, consider this an open invitation: curl right up here right on my couch, next to your good old Cat...
  • Why? To be spared images of the president of the United States throwing rolls of paper towels at citizens of the United States in Puerto Rico after massive hurricanes devastated their communities.
  • Why? To dream that the president of the United States isn’t goading, prodding, nudging, elbowing, Tweeting Kim Jong Un into joining with him to start World War III. In the good old days, weren't  the North Koreans supposed to be the unstable, crazy ones?
  • To avoid hearing the president of the United States urging the National Football League to fire any “son of a bitch” who honors our country’s deepest values – just and fair treatment of all Americans – through respectful protests before the start of football games.​
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  • To not have to listen to the Grouchy One yell, and rant, and scream, and swear, and stomp around the house every single morning as he reads the paper, listens to the radio and watches TV to catch up on “the news.” I mean, how many times can you listen to him yell over to the Nice One: Can you believe this?" Did you see what Trump has (done, said, Tweeted) now? CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?
  • To not think about all the Humans who’ll die or get wicked sick if they don’t get medical care. I mean, even Phoebe and I go to the doctor whenever we need to. Simply on a selfish basis, dead or sick Humans can’t adopt cats (and dogs)/
  • To not feel embarrassed and ashamed every waking minute.
  • To escape thinking too deeply about the hurricanes, wildfires, rising seas that will put an end the homes of those of us lucky enough to live by the seacoast, because Trump wants to destroy the environment.
  • To limit the amount of lies we can hear pouring out of the White House.
  • To avoid thinking what will happen if Americans start raising their sons and daughters to be like, act like and grow up to be just like Donald J. Trump?
  • So I don’t have to remember all the days of the Trump presidency that have, against all expectation, happened so far. Do you realize we are up to Day 268? CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?
   Therefore, my friends, my advice is this: Get as much sleep as you can.     Do as I say, and do as I do.
   It’s going to be a long three – and maybe seven – more years. 

   I know that even reading this will make it harder for you to get to sleep.
   But try, my friends, try to get as much sleep as you can. 
   Because, in the Age of Trump, our worst nightmares are the truly terrifying dreams that occur not when we’re asleep, but when we’re awake.

CORRECTIONS: As you know, we grudgingly make corrections, and when we do, try to shift the blame and make excuses. This posting was originally and erroneously labeled "Day 275," which would have made it a week ahead of time.  What do you expect when its written by a cat? Phoebe.

Day 263

10/9/2017

 

TRUMPWORLD:
​Towels, taunts and targets

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​ “YOU KNOW, CAT, there’s never much more I can say about Trump that hasn’t already been said,” I was telling the Division 6 Northeast Sleep Champion - 2013, 2014, 2015 & 2016,  the other day.
   Cat, ever the opportunist pounced on the chance for a put-down that I’d given him in this moment of careless candor.
   “So, Phoebe, why not try out this variation on a bit of folk wisdom:
    If you don’t have anything to say, then don't say it!
   “How would you like a roll of paper towels aimed at what passes for a feline brain, (the essence of an oxymoron)?” I said.
   “I knew you were going to bring that up,” Cat said. "The Trump Bashers are always sweating the small stuff. You criticize him for ignoring disaster victims; then jump all over him him when he tries to cheer them up."
  “Hurling paper towels at Puerto Ricans who've managed to survive a monster hurricane absolutely shows Trump’s concept of “perfect pitch” when it comes to presidential compassion,” I said, hoping Cat would catch the pun.
   But Cat was in no mood for wordplay.
   “Seems to me that paper towels were just right,” Cat said. “After a storm like that, a good way to start the clean-up. Very utilitarian.”

   “People in Puerto Rico STILL don’t have enough drinking water, still don’t have enough food, still don’t have electricity in many places, still aren’t sure how many are sick or injured or dying,” I said. “And here you have the alleged leader of the free world playing ‘Catch the Garter?’ ”  
   
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    But Cat was having none of it.
  “Like the president told the father of his press secretary, Susan Huckabee Sanders, last weekend on TV, winging some towels at the Puerto Ricans was just what they wanted:
   
They had these beautiful, soft towels. Very good towels…. I was having fun; they were having fun.
   “And Father Mike came right back at Trump with this zinger:
     
You were a rock star.’ "
  
   “KIND OF OLD NEWS, Phoebe,” said Cat. “I actually thought you were going to say something about the “Moron” thing ….”

   “You mean the “Fucking Moron” thing,” I said. “I guess Secretary Rex has learned a thing or two about the language of diplomacy, at least when it comes to describing his boss.”
   "Also," I said," 'moron' is kind of  unacceptable language."

   “So is World War III,” Cat said.

   I'VE GOT TO GIVE the Over-the-Hill Furball some credit here. 
   Cat’s been fixated for a while now on Trump’s planet-ending vision of how to handle the North Korean nuclear threat.
   Goading  Crazy Kim into considering some tangible targets, rather than just firing off practice rounds - and thereby giving President F. Moron an excuse to do what’s he’s been itching to do - that's what's on Cat's mind these days.
   And I get it. I do. 
 
   Still, Cat wanted to know why I cannot seem to sort the 
   
   
BIG
   from the
   
little
.
   
   “Why are you so fixated on paper towels instead of ICBMs?” Cat demanded.

   “Because it’s easier than thinking about what you’re thinking about,” I said.
  “Speaking of which, Cat," I said, "in the event of a nuclear holocaust, have you come up with something better to do than wait it out under the chairs on the back deck?”

   “Duck-&-Cover still seems to me to be the survival strategy of choice, at least at the civilian level,” Cat said.
   “Maybe I could get you a roll or two of paper towels to help mop up afterwards,” I suggested.
   “Appreciate that,” Cat said.
   "By the way," he said, getting back to our original conversation, "Why do you persist in saying stuff about Trump, when, by your own admission, you don’t have much of anything fresh to say?"

   So I told him:
   Because, it’s better to say something, rather than just to say nothing.

   “That and a roll of paper towels will get you what?” Cat asked.
   With that, he jumped onto the living room couch and curled into a ball half his usual size. Both his eyelids slammed shut so hard I thought I could hear an actual thud.
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    A "sweet dog" and a smart opossum consider a nation at risk.

    The writers

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    PHOEBE, a "sweet dog" who came to Rhode Island in 2010 as a stray puppy from Missouri, was a political agnostic until Trump's catastrophic election. She tracked his presidency in a blog, which she decided to resurrect it this year  when it became obvious that Republicans are committed to Trump's destructive policies
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    MR. O, an opossum, showed up in Phoebe's backyard somewhat mysteriously. He turned out to have genuine insight into political matters, and he agreed to assume co-author duties of the blog after Phoebe's previous writing partner, Cat, a cat, died.
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    CAT

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