<https://www.downwithtyranny.com/>What a difference a couple weeks makes, eh? Especially this observation that I offered, in our annual Fourth of July message ("A Republic, If You Can Keep it...But For How Long?"): "And if elections really are about the next generation, it's high time for Democrats to begin ushering in new leadership."
Well, son of a gun, they actually did. Just not any of the usual suspects (AOC, Cori Bush, Ro Khanna, Ayanna Presley, and Jamie Raskin) that I named in our message, but Vice President Kamala Harris. Which is fine; that's why beauty pageants always choose first and second runner-ups, right? Just in case the queen (or king, for that matter) can't fulfill their duties. Or something like that.
But seriously, all jokes apart, Harris's imminent nomination well turn out among the best "just in case" scenarios we've seen recently. All that dreary speculation about President Biden's age and mental condition? Off the table! All the endless maundering about the cracks in the Democratic coalition? Off the table! All those poll standings that looked like a rearrangement, lately, of the deck chairs on the Titanic? Off the table!
With less than 100 days to go before the November election, Harris's debut on the national stage could hardly have gone better: crowd counts (10,000 at last night's Atlanta, GA rally) and fundraising totals ($200 million) that leave her boss's numbers in the dust. Enthusiasm that's soaring off the charts (44,000 joining a recent Zoom call aimed at Black women). Feverish speculation about who gets the phone call to become her running mate (if you can't improve on Trump's selection of the Billion Dollar Hillbilly, JD Vance, you shouldn't be doing politics, period).
But, as the featured graphic demonstrates, the best reason to celebrate Harris's arrival is seeing all that anti-Biden merchandise now rendered worthless, at a stroke. Never again will we have to hear that wretched catch phrase ("Let's Go, Brandon"), unless it turns up in some PBS documentary.
Ditto for the baseball cap that the Trump-loving village president so proudly sports at the meetings I cover ("Cleanup On Aisle 46"). Unless, of course, he wants to take a Sharpie to it, and try to update its equally miserable slogan. Then again, he might want to keep it in his attic, and wait and see if it appreciates enough to sell on eBay.
Whatever. Honestly, it's purely selfish on my part, but for once, it's Trump and his fan club cult who are now caught scrambling like fire ants after a lump of sugar at the picnic. For once! Now that it's looking like a real race again, they literally don't know what to do. For once!
Ditto for the baseball cap that the Trump-loving village president so proudly sports at the meetings I cover ("Cleanup On Aisle 46"). Unless, of course, he wants to take a Sharpie to it, and try to update its equally miserable slogan. Then again, he might want to keep it in his attic, and wait and see if it appreciates enough to sell on eBay.
Whatever. Honestly, it's purely selfish on my part, but for once, it's Trump and his fan club cult who are now caught scrambling like fire ants after a lump of sugar at the picnic. For once! Now that it's looking like a real race again, they literally don't know what to do. For once!
I imagine that same village official balling up his fists, and pounding his couch, after seeing the lightning bolt strike ("Biden Quits"): "NO! NO! NO F#ckin' way! Goddamn it, they can't do this to us! No effin' way can he do this!" But do it, he has done, and now, "there's no going back," to quote Harris's mantra of the hour.
Because, honestly, between all their endless, stale performance art bits about "childless cat ladies," and the "Christian nation" we were never destined to become; their relentless attempts to impose that blinkered (read: 99% white) Christian nativist outlook, on those of us who don't buy into it; or their oily, authoritarian Lucy 'n' Ethel schemes to twist American democracy beyond recognition...
...they're just f#cking horrible, awful people, who deserve the almightiest shellacking at the polls. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object, or something along those lines. Or, as Trump's campaign manager confessed recently: "Project 2025 is a pain in the ass." Time will tell, but as a certain fast food clown used to say: "I'm lovin' it." And guess what? For now, that's good enough. --The Reckoner
...they're just f#cking horrible, awful people, who deserve the almightiest shellacking at the polls. Unstoppable force, meet immovable object, or something along those lines. Or, as Trump's campaign manager confessed recently: "Project 2025 is a pain in the ass." Time will tell, but as a certain fast food clown used to say: "I'm lovin' it." And guess what? For now, that's good enough. --The Reckoner
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