Comrades,
Can't say the 1000th day of the Presidency of DJ Trump! kept me awake at night, but for some reason it did remind me that pretty early on in his term, the finest legal minds and scholars in the US banged their heads together and determined that a serving POTUS cannot be prosecuted for doing crime, while he/she remains in office. I've always thought Stormy Daniels would be The Donald's downfall - and she may well yet be - not because of the size of his pee-pee - 'cos folks can and do go down to the jailhouse for breaking the campaign finance laws. Stormy won't be written off as 'expenses'. But that aint gonna happen while The Crazy in Chief is in the Oval Office, so the Democrats and other self-appointed Defenders of the Constitution had no other place to go except down Copperhead Road to a place called Impeachment. It was gifted to them on a silver platter. Given that the Trumpotus once famously remarked "I will be remembered for my Foreign Policy" it shouldn't really come as a surprise that The Ukraine would be the first shot over the bow of the Resolute Desk. But really, what odds could you have got on the Ukraine? Currently run by a democratically elected former TV comedian, best known for impersonating the President. What's the chances? Never mind My Mate Vlad the Impaler of the Kremlin, whose Russian imperialistic tendencies have now seen him barge his way right through to the Turkey-Syria-Iraq border, otherwise known as the 'Infernal Triangle'. Russian bomber pilots are having some choice target practice as the US Rangers ride out of town. The Ukrainians seem to be the only people who remember the Crimea, and Ol' Mate Putes has made damned sure that's no longer even a bargaining chip. Forget about The Donald callously abandoning the Kurds, the Yanks have done that before. The Kurds always get fucked-over, by everyone, every time, and they know it.
In the meantime, Chairman Ping of China has no interest in the Middle East, and will put up with Hong Kong until the deal with the UK to hand back the lease fully expires in 2047 and the People's Republic takes complete sovereignty, no questions asked. It's been said that China knows it can do without Hong Kong, but Hong Kong can't do without China, and aint that the truth? It's all a matter of face; insult piled upon insult will wear anybody down over time. If you don't like the party line, then you lose yr ass, baby. And Chairman Ping - the hardcore Commo that he is - is always quick to remind the good burghers of Hong Kong that they never had democracy as a British Crown Colony, so why now? What's all the fuss about? Yakkaty-yak, don't talk back. When the Poms lost the Empire they were staggered that it wasn't just misplaced like car keys, but gone forever. How did it happen on their own watch? Now they risk losing the Union altogether. Scotland is set to make a cheeky exit stage right in the direction of the EU just as soon as they can, giving the all-consumed Brexiteers the bird on the way out, because the United Kingdom will then cease to exist. It will become plain old England and Wales. Northern Ireland has been in a fight over hiving itself off from the Union ever since the Acts of Union [1707], and that's a fair while ago now. Jolly good luck with all of that, chaps.
Forget the hopeless Poms and good ol' down town Honkers for a moment, there's been riots in Baghdad, Barcelona, Beirut, Caracas, Jakarta, Khartoum, Manokwari, Port-au-Prince, and Santiago over the last little while. Fully fighting with trigger happy cops, mainly over the price of bread. The Catalans and West Papuans are on their own. [Surprisingly, there's been no recent rioting in Paris, where you can usually rely on it most weekends]. So, how could a man of such limited intellectual capacity as The Trumpotus even begin to get his strange carrot topped cranium around all that foreign policy shit? His peachy orange bonce is not that big. After all, The Donald has got the foreign policy numbers in a briefcase that follows him around, if some squishy turd really does hit the fan. All he needs to do is pick up the phone and ask "what would Justin do?".
There's now several giant Trump Peach helium balloons to replace the dated Trump Baby, and a zillion kinds of memorabilia to mark a memorable age [available right now on yr Amazon home delivery catalogue]. Impeachment is, of course, the ultimate political process - it is 100% politics. Everybody knows how it's going to end, but being banged up in the US Senate is no fun - no fun at all - just ask Uncle Bill, he'll tell you. People forget that Clinton got done for a lot more than simply agreeing wholeheartedly with the long-standing Papal ideology that "head jobs are OK" [just as long as there is no Tunnel of Love action involved]. So how would it look, this impeachment thingy? At the risk of repeating myself, it is very odd, and has no parallel in other places where assassination is usually the go, or in Australia's case, where "un-electable" leaders are knifed in the back overnight. It's run like a common or garden trial, with the Senate acting as a court of law, to determine the President's guilt or otherwise under the various provisions and amendments to the Constitution. We know that. The Senate, and the President, are permitted to engage legal counsel [called The Managers], to run their cases just like any other trial by calling witnesses and adducing evidence. The Senate is in essence a 100 strong jury, with the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court presiding. And everybody knows what happens when lawyers become involved. An absolute majority is required to convict; 67 votes. Uncle Bill carried on regardless after getting an exact 50-50 split on his second Article of Impeachment. No casting vote required. Doesn't take Einstein to work out that there must be at least twice as many votes for, than against. As it always is in the Miracle of Democracy, it's all about getting the vote. But the votes in the Senate are not, and have never been, secret. Senators are required to individually voice their votes, so a lot of horse trading goes on and much water is passed, and then the Trumpotus proceeds upon his merry way as if nothing had happened, while getting all-a-twitter over "kangaroo courts". Pure politics. And please don't get me started on the remote prospect of President Pence. What an appalling piece of work he is. Hard core and bad to the bone. God help us all if Mighty Mike ever becomes Leader of the Free World.
In any case, a successful impeachment would rob the long suffering Americans of all the fun and games of The Donald on the Campaign Trail. Such brilliant entertainment! What a world class show! He should do Vegas! At his last campaign rally in Lexington, Kentucky, The DJ! descended into hitherto unknown hysterical incoherence [and that's saying something], to wild scenes put on by his Rent-A-Crowd people. It's as if the Crazy in Chief is speaking English words, but in an entirely different language that only his adherents can understand [or can they?]. Linguists must be scratching their heads as we speak wondering if the Trumpotus has invented a whole new Pidgin English, of which he is the only squawker. The Donald knows he's No.1; there's no point to get across, so just bamboozle them with words. So many words. Repeated, again, and again. Making sense just complicates matters. It's a time honoured trick in fascist oratory.
As the clock ticks down to the first Tuesday after the first Monday in November 2020, I've been thinking it's such a shame that Hunter S Thompson is no longer with us. He'd be having a field day writing the sequel to Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail. He'd be on more drugs than The Donald takes to keep him alive, and he'd be drinking powerful concoctions - hold the Diet Coke. So let's leave the last pronouncement to the ol' gonzo - nothing has changed since '72 - “With the truth so dull and depressing, the only working alternative is wild bursts of madness and filigree.”
