Election at Bernie’s

It seems odd. Prior to July 21st, news organizations could not stop talking about the mental fitness and acuity of the candidates in the 2024 presidential race. Now it seems like anything goes.

This is a delicate issue, so we’d like to make one thing clear: we harbor no prejudice against those who speak gibberish. Professor Irwin Corey had no more devoted fan. The line must be drawn, though, at the entrance to the Oval Office.

The problem here is that if the media were to start applying the standards they once used on Joe Biden to the Republican nominee, they would immediately be buried under accusations of bias, libel, and slander.

The media are in a box, but it’s one of their own making. The term may be new—and has long been badly needed—but they’ve been sanewashing Donald J. Trump since the day he glided down his gilded escalator.

It was, almost literally, a deal with the devil. He put on a show, and that gave them eyeballs—eyeballs to sell to advertisers. Les Moonves, the boss of CBS, admitted as much in February, 2016: “It may not be good for America, but it’s damn good for CBS… The money’s rolling in and this is fun… I’ve never seen anything like this, and this going to be a very good year for us. Sorry. It’s a terrible thing to say. But, bring it on, Donald. Keep going.”

And so, here we are. Ladies and gentleman, the Republican candidate for President of the United States: “The energy is so big. It’s so, like amorphous. It’s all over the place. If you make donuts, it’s a stove.”

According to the polls, there’s a 50-50 chance the next president will be brain-dead. Never fear, though. As always, the Republican Party has a strategic plan. In 1980, Reagan’s campaign manager and ex-spook Bill Casey famously lifted a copy of Jimmy Carter’s debate briefing book. Now they’re cribbing from the script of “Weekend at Bernie’s.”

There’s no discernable coherent activity going on between his ears, but that never has been a problem for today’s GOP. All they want is to nudge his husk across the finish line. The question is, where is the finish line?

If there’s anything Americans can probably agree on, it’s wishing this election was over.

We’ll probably start fighting about that Tuesday night.

Broadly speaking there are only a couple of possibilities. We hate to say it, but as far as we know, it is theoretically possible that Trump could actually win. If that’s what happens, well, at least then we’ll know. Like a guillotine falling, the consequences will be unequivocal.

Looking on the bright side, instinct tells us there’s a chance Kamala Harris might give Trump’s clock a righteous cleaning. Here, we must confess, we’re indulging our soft spot for the concept of comeuppance. This guy has spent a long lifetime racking up karmic debt. We no longer expect any justice to come from the eponymous federal department, but surely there’s an Acme anvil out there somewhere with this guy’s name on it—in gold letters.

Here’s what we expect to happen: even if Harris sweeps the swing states, and pulls a few surprises to boot, racking up electoral votes all over the board, whatever the actual results, Trump will declare victory.

What? He’s going to suddenly start letting facts get in his way? If he admits he’s lost, the next item on his to-do list will be to show up in court to get sentenced for 34 felony convictions.

This guy is motivated. We think we know him. More likely we’ve just been introduced. He may have put the media in a box, but he’s built a bigger one around himself. Whatever he’s got left in him, now’s the time he’ll use it.

Before we start feeling sorry for him, let’s remember his enablers. Let’s follow their lead. It’s not like they give a damn about him as a person.

Donald Trump has been a perfect Trojan Horse for the class of people who have brought this country to the brink of ruin.

He’s up there putting on the crazy act, distracting the rubes—the mainstream media among them—while his backers are hiring operatives for their plan to cancel the Bill of Rights.

They’re the ones who have backed their Uncle Scrooge dump trucks up to the coffers of the sleazy operatives who run Republican political campaigns.

The sums involved are staggering. Any one of these billionaires is setting fire to more money in an afternoon than most of us will earn in a lifetime.

Why? Apparently because there are still a few loose bucks out there that they haven’t hoovered up yet. Where they plan to spend this loot is anyone’s guess. They got rich by wrecking the planet and they show no signs of stopping.

One of them, famously, wants to go to Mars. If only he would! Is there anything we can do to help?

We have been lamenting this election campaign since it began. Whatever the outcome, at least we can rejoice that it’s over. We cannot know, much less control, what’s around the bend.

Joy? Perhaps. Let us hope so. Even if we’re lucky, though, we’d best be prepared.

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