After watching the utterly humiliating spectacle of the first and second elected officials of the U.S.A. — Dumpty-Trumpty and Shady Jay-Dee, if you weren’t clear — acting like mid-level Mafia bosses putting the squeeze on some two-bit hood named Zelenskyy, the commentator Keith Olberman, who hosts the podcast Countdown, was really angry! He cursed the Deplorable Duo up one side and down the other for the pettiness, their meanness, and their fondness for mass murdering autocrats who enslave their people. And in all 28 minutes of this, toward the end, Olberman made a comment that reached out of the flat screen display and SLAPPED ME UPSIDE THE HEAD! This is it:
“Burn in Hell, Trump! I’d say the same to J.D. Vance, but I suspect he’s realized he’s already burning in Hell. HE WORKS FOR TRUMP!”
(CULINARY NOTE: Were you as puzzled as I was by the huge, obnoxious grease stain on the yellow Oval Office couch, next to Secretary of Defense Peter “Cottontail” Heggseth, in Trump’s shameful meeting with Zelenskyy on Friday? Well, scientists who analyzed the stain say that’s all that’s left of former U.S. Senator Marco Rubio (RRR-FL)! Once the least-voting resident of the Senate Chamber, who delighted in taking overseas junkets almost as much as Texas Sen. Teddy “Bare Bear” Cruz, Rubio somehow — rolling dice? Rock, paper, scissors? A tarot card reading? — got elected chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, which is kind of funny if you think about it. Because he’s got about the intelligence of a castrated bull. Sort of an ox-y moron! When HE was running for president, Rubio, a child of Cuban boat immigrants who put their dry feet in Miami, rightly lambasted Trump on a variety of issues, among them being close to Vlad the Impaler — excuse me, same guy, wrong century! But when Herr Drumpf won the primary, Rubio was at the head of the line to kiss His Royal Heinieness’s Ass, and got the coveted Secretary of State position! But, unlike J.D Vance, Rubio had a lower melting point, and it was apparently exceeded by the heat in the Oval Office while the two Elected Bullies were trying to turn up the heat on Zelenskyy, who, WARNED IN ADVCANCE by other European leaders, had apparently donned asbestos underwear as a precautionary measure. Smart move, Volodomyr!) SLAVA UKRAINE!
AI generated image to my specs, third try. Vance looks a little too Old Testament, but aside from that I think this captures Shady’s current career ladder rather well! Problem is, on that particular ladder he’s NOT ASCENDING… and funny thing, the further down he goes, the hotter the rungs get!
Yeah, you’ve seen this photo before! And you’ll probably see it again, before I get done with it, and #45!
Unless you read Russian, and are familiar with the current generation of samizdat — underground home publishing by officially unacknowledged writers — you probably aren’t aware that my novel of non-human intelligence, WET GODDESS: Recollections of a Dolphin Lover, is published in Russian! Here I am, celebrating the official publication in 2015, with my good friend Stoli Ch’naya, who used to be Russian but wisely moved his operations to Lithuania several years before Putin thought to put the bite on him:
This publication — little noted in the Russian press, by design — was actually initiated by the translator himself, who contacted me in 2014 to let me know that he had spent a year painstakingly translating Wet Goddess so his close friends and family could enjoy it as much as he had, and oh, by the way, did I mind?
Yes, he was asking my permission for a deed he’d already done!
Of course, being an ardent capitalist (at least when I have no money), my mind immediately turned to how I, and maybe even he, could turn a profit on the book, and, by the way, spread my radical ideas about dolphin personhood to a new continent and the largest country in the world (as of this writing)!
You may notice that I am not including a photo of my Russian translator here, or mentioning him by name, nor identifying the Russian city or oblast (state) where he lives. The reason for this is the meat-grinder of Putin’s insane war with Ukraine, which is currently turning Russian youth into sausages, with body-bag casings. Although my translator was working as a salesman in a failing retail store when he contacted me, he has, by dint of thrift (and Soviet-style subsidized rental housing, which costs about 1/10th of what it would here), slowly improved his photo and video gear to the point where he’s been operating for a couple of years and as independent cameraman/director/editor for his own and others’ productions! This guy is a typical Republican “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” self-made man, but he managed to do it in the Middle of Bumfok, Nowhere, Russia, without any help from what now passes for the GOP!
Not only that, the dude’s insanely handsome, like a Bolshevik version of Brad Pitt, but with that crazy madness in his eyes that we’ve come to expect from every Russian villain, from Dr. Zarkov in Flash Gordon to Viggo Tarasov in John Wick! When I pointed this out to him, he just replied “Yes, that’s what my mother says, too, but I thought she might be biased.”
This guy is utterly clueless!
I think I’ve said all I have to say, while keeping him safe from the clutches of the FSB! Here, without further ado, is my letter describing the confusing political events of July, 2024, the month and year when A NEW HOPE SHONE FORTH…
July 28-29, 2024 Dear XXXXX,
I know I haven’t given you enough time to respond since my last email, but current events have overtaken me, and the U.S.A. in general! Since I don’t know what or how RU TV covers U.S. news, I suspect you may have heard some rumors, or half-truths, or convenient untruths, about what is actually going on over here.
Because things are a bit topsy-turvy right now, let me try to summarize for your benefit, and that of all your fellow Russians, petit-bourgeois commoners, surfs, kulaks and nobles alike, the often confusing, sometimes confounding U.S. political events of the past month in chronological order, presented on a handy, bulleted (no pun intended) list for clarity, and because everybody else does it:
June 27, one month + one day ago: Ex-President Trump mops the studio floor with President Joe Biden in their first, and it turns out last, debate. Never mind that Trump lied hundreds of times during that 2 hours — the “firehose of falsehoods” you’ve referred to previously — Biden looked weak, and frail, and old. Not good optics! And of course no fact-checking by the moderators, which Trump wouldn’t tolerate. Worst thing Biden got out was “I’ve never heard such malarky in my life (Irish roots showing)!” I saw Biden debate Trump 4 years ago, and he was great. It’s sad to see what’s happened to him, but Grandfather Time catches up with everyone, even us Boomers!
End of June/Beginning of July: The Left falls into general slump, realizes Biden hasn’t got what it takes any more. Influential Democrats like George Clooney, the famous American actor (he was in a bad remake of Stanislaw Lem’s Solaris in 2002, but I like Andrei Tarkovsky’s twisted vision better, he didn’t try to film a love story, but he left in those endless cheap special effects shots driving around Tokyo’s Ginza District on wet streets at night) start asking Biden to step down and let someone else lead the anti-Trump charge. Gee, who could it be? I wonder… the U.S.A.’s first Black/Asian female VP, Kamala Harris, former California senator, former federal prosecutor for the district of San Francisco?… NAH! What are you smoking, comrade? July 13, Saturday: Trump’s dog-and-pony show sets up its tents in the Rust Belt town of Butler, PA, about 40 miles north of Pittsburgh, which used to be the thriving center of the U.S. steel industry in the 20th Century. It’s solid-red Trump Country! Unbeknownst to the Trump security team, the local police or county sheriff, or even the Secret Service or his own family, a mentally disturbed white, Republican 20-year-old named Thomas Matthew Crooks, whose gun-nut father is a rabid Trump supporter, asks borrow his dad’s AR-15 style people-hunting rifle, so he can get some time in at the local gun range. Crooks’ dad jokes that his son needs the practice! (NOTE: Crooks’ high school gun club threw him out because he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, and was a danger on the firing range to himself and others! This kid was no Lee Harvey Oswald, a trained USMC sniper, by any means!) Later That Same Day: Crooks buys 50 rounds of ammo at a local gun shop, picks up a digital laser rangefinder and a short step ladder at Home Depot, and drives 40 miles to the Butler Farm Show, a seasonal event at which Trump is blathering. While Trump recalls his boyhood friendship with fictional cannibal Hannibal Lecter, Crooks wanders around, measuring, sighting, and planning his shots. Supposedly the Secret Service knew about the danger he posed 18 minutes before the attempted assassination, as people saw Crooks up on the roof of the building that law enforcement was using as a headquarters! Crooks has plenty of time to crawl over the roof. A local sheriff’s deputy follows him up the ladder, but when Crooks points his long gun at the deputy, he falls off! Moments later, and while being intently observed by not 1 but 2 Secret Service sharpshooters, Crooks opens fire. 6:11 p.m.: Making a point, Donald Trump turns his head slightly and a .223 high velocity round flies through his right ear, missing a cranial shot by about 2 cm. Crooks gets off several more rounds, blasting a Teleprompter to fragments, seriously injuring two bystanders and killing a third. The SS sharpshooters put five .50 caliber rounds into young Master Crooks, ending his brief reign of terror, the Secret Service agents mob Trump, who instructs them on a hot mic to put his shoes back on (???) and doesn’t forget to pump his fist in the air, a dramatic salute to his followers, as he’s hustled out of the arena, blood trickling down his face. Immediately Afterward: The Republican Echo Chamber begins turning out nonsense about the shooting, and there’s no official word from either Trump’s campaign staff or the hospital where he was treated, other than to say he’s “doing well.” Rumors don’t just fly, they teleport! And when it’s finally realized that Crooks WAS a Trump supporter, and his family donated to Trump’s campaign, the Right is utterly gobsmacked! They were all prepared to blame President Biden, for threatening Trump by making him sound like a mean old Nazi, which Biden did by the simple expedient of quoting some of Trump’s statements recorded at his private, unscripted events! Here, Trump praises Fearless Leader, Little Rocket Man, Adolf Hitler, Stalin, and Nikolay Denkov, among other despots, for their firm grip on power. His fans eat it up. July 15-18: Republican Convention in Milwaukee, WI, a city which Trump has previously declared he hates, and is the capital of American beer-brewing. Trump is apotheosized and given burnt offerings and songs of glad adulation, along with people beseeching him to rescue them and their semiautomatic weapons from the Horrible Socialist Left, as only he can! July 18: On the last day of convention, Trump announces his eagerly-anticipated choice for VP! It’s J. D. Vance, a freshman senator from Ohio who was famous 10 years ago for writing a briefly bestselling book about how lousy his youth was titled Hillbilly Elegy. Almost immediately, videos of Vance making anti-Trump statements a few years ago start circulating. If you want to know what Pretzel Logic is, it’s politics! July 21, Sunday: Former Democratic Speaker of the House, Nancy Pelosi, finally convinces President Joe Biden to depart the campaign, for the good of the country and the preservation of our democratic republic! Reluctantly, Biden agrees and appoints Kamala Harris to replace him on the ticket! She eagerly accepts, and starts fundraising immediately! 24 Hours Later: Harris has raised over $100,000,000, and set a new one-day record for U.S. political fundraising! July 22, Monday, A Slow News Day: When the news about Harris’s campaign gets out, Republicans suffer coronary arrest! Trump demands somebody repay him for all the money he’s invested in planning Sleepy Joe’s defeat, because Harris leaves him with no arguments except that she’s Black, she’s Asian and she’s got a vagina! (Which I think everybody was willing to accept on expert opinion.)
LATE MONDAY, 7-29: I put in 4 hours researching and writing this compilation, intending to complete it earlier, but I really felt like crap all day. Current events confound everything; for instance, where’s the supposed bullet hole in Trump’s right ear? And where are his medical records from the hospital ER, where he was treated? The FBI, among others, would like to hear it from Trump’s lips, and he’s finally acceded to their request. Also, the local sheriff’s office SWAT team was never briefed, never contacted, by the Secret Service until after the assignation attempt! Stay tuned to National Public Radio (NPR) for the best reporting originating in the USA. It reflects pretty well not only the news, but how it’s affecting ordinary people over here. Be well, stay low, wear camo and carry spare ammo! That’s the best advice I can give you right now, XXXXX, the rest is up to Lady Luck! — Malcolm
Malcolm J. Brenner 