The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

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They tell me we get the Leaders we deserve. This is cold gruel these dark and menacing days with the Boy King strutting on the International Stage, bragging one breath, bullying the next, calling everyone but himself and his Breirbartian inner circle, liars and purveyors of faux facts. No exaggeration is too excessive, no lies too egregious, no threat too outrageous.

To fact check his manic Tweets would take a Cray Super Computer, they arrive 24/7, the man a veritable teletype of epic petulance, no doubt driven to madness by greed and lust for Total Attention. He’s a five year old rich kid with attention deficit, a P.T. Barnum for the television addicted. Do we deserve this nasty buffoon?

Maybe so, maybe so…. In this news cycle of constant updates, peppered with tabloid-style salaciousness, gossip and cheap thrill entertainment, along comes a carnival barker full of piss and vinegar, spewing racist vitriol and promising to Make America Great Again. There’s a Meanness emanating from the Heartland, a foul fog of inchoate resentment and fear. Of immigrants. Of terrorists. Of a digital world that’s moved beyond their ability to comprehend. Oh sure, they can get and send e-mail and they can join Facebook, but the world that’s accelerating here in the 21st Century isn’t their world. They think Trump means he’ll Make America Go Back, Reverse Course, Revert to Ozzie and Harriet Values, Be White and Paternalistic, Be Great That Way Again.

He’s selling Snake Oil, he’s selling the Past and folks are lining up to buy it. They love a rich guy, they love a playboy, they love Dirty Harry as President. We’ve made politics a game show and the president a carnival barker in a 6 ring circus. See the Bearded Lady, the two headed baby, the Man with No Clothes, step right up, step right up, no need to push, step right up for the miracle of miracles, for the panacea for all your woes. Double your money back, ladies and gents, if you’re not completely satisfied. You won’t be disappointed, you’ll be amazed. Step right up. Step right up. 100% satisfaction guaranteed. See the Wonder of the Ages! See the President of the United States walking upright! 100% guaranteed! Step right Up!!

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Who would’ve guessed, right? Some 35,000 year old warrior channeled through J.Z. Knight right down the road from us in Yelm, WA, pounds his fist and high fives the President. And this was a week BEFORE the Trumpster ordered up 59 Tomahawk sandwiches for the Syrians. I assume Ramtha isn’t Syrian. Lemurian, actually, but where exactly Lemur is, your guess is pretty much as good as mine. Mine is that it’s a country right behind the hippocampus region of Oz and that Trump will be sending Ivanka’s husband Jarud over there as Ambassador –at-Large once Jarud’s cleared up the Palestine/Isreali spat and brought peace to Iraq and business-ized D.C. and neutralized ISIS and … well, pretty much squared up the world, probably a month or so at most.

John McCain and Lindsay Graham, two boyz who never met a war they didn’t love, thought it was a great start, those cruise missiles, but hopefully they were just a nice prelude to some regime change in that war-torn country. Iraq, Egypt, Yemen, Libya, all lessons lost on them. The Trump team crowed that now the world will respect us at last and the about face of the Commander-in-Chief, who ran against further involvements abroad, should put the fear of the Christian God into nations that thought we’d become weak and ineffectual, especially given the unpredictability of American policy now. “They can’t be too sure what we’ll do,” the advisors claimed, rightfully so.

Course, we can’t be too sure either. One day pro-Russia, next day not. One week all for letting Syrians decide on Assad’s fate, next minute a proclamation that he has to go. One pronouncement, health care reform is dead, next one a few days later, not so fast, we’re working on a deal. Pretty obviously, consistency is the hobgoblin of their little minds. Better to be nimble, keep the enemy off balance. Including us. Trouble is, the administration is too. In a world where stability was once considered paramount to peace, these are troubling times.

But … when push finally comes to shove, when the Trumpster decides, after a particularly fitful sleep, that North Korea needs a fat wake-up call, trust me, he’s not going to send in the Tomahawks or even Steve Bannon. Too dangerous. After all, they got nukie eggs and a million soldiers in uniform. Who’s he gonna call? Jared Kushner? I don’t think so. He’s gonna call his old buddy Ramtha. And god help those silly North Koreans. We got the Warrior King on our side now.

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