Never let a good crisis go to waste: a line famously attributed to Rham Emanuel, esteemed Mayor of Chicago and former Obama chief of staff.
Hurricane Harvey wasn’t a crisis the left could ordinarily leverage against much maligned President Trump but where there’s a will there’s a way. The city of Houston, the state of Texas and federal agencies assigned the duty, did an admirable job managing the Harvey crisis. All that was left in the way of buzzard pickings, was Trumps business-like reserve (lack of emotion) when he visited the site - and Melania’s “stylish” foot wear ere the First Couple boarded Air Force One for Corpus Christi to survey the hurricane damage and offer encouragement and hope to Harvey’s victims.
Things more to be concerned about are hell and high water, lives destroyed misery and death but when we’re green bile sick to the stomach for a miscarriage of political justice what else to do but heave? For heaven’s sake don’t bother oneself with human suffering and devastation caused by some ol’ Hurricane and how we’re to manage it, much more important the proper dress and fashion of those whose tradition it is to offer sympathy, hope and encouragement to the afflicted. But then, “green bile retch” is a problem with origins in the head, not of the heart.
Kudos to those members of the American entertainment industry who raised $44 million for Harvey’s victims. An extra word of praise for those who rightly or wrongly imagined Harvey was a direct result of mankind’s mismanagement of his atmospheric environment but had the sensitivity not to lament Melania’s shoes, as did Stevie Wonder, Boyance and the few amongst a field of multiple participants who leveraged a human tragedy for political purpose.
Hmm? Just thinking Melania’s Shoes would be a good title for a political fairy tale after the fashion of Cinderella, the story of a woman whose less than fortunate circumstance is suddenly changed to triumphant reward. Admittedly a bit of creative writing would be required to work it out since Melania, rather than destitute, was one of the country’s premier fashion modals ere she met and married the Donald. And Trump is Trump, which just may nay be what many people would envision as “Triumphant reward.”
But forgive the feeble attempt at creative writing: Too many variables to work that one out and the theme has little to do with the private lives of America’s First Couple. What I’m a saying is that the Cinderella story might well be a parody of U.S. politics in their current order splayed outward upon the width and breadth of the national stage. After all in some fashion or form the lovely Ms. Cindy seems a well-traveled little chick, strolling through the folklore of diverse nations and cultures. The narrative of perseverance against the odds has graced the world stage, striking our fancy since Fred Flintstone rode ol’ Dino out across a stone age landscape.
Our first Cinderella production would aptly be called “Triumphant reward” the title itself betraying the story’s favorable outcome. In the lead roll would be Donald Trump as a burly and barnacled commoner not invited to the palace ball, but shows up at the dance anyways warts and all. The cast of characters includes the queen (American electorate) and a dozen or so would-be suitors vying for the Queen’s favor. Welst the apish commoner hasn’t the chance of a snow ball in hades of winning a spot on ‘dancing with the stars’ much less becoming the Queen’s Prince Charming, yet, cunning as hell, somehow convinces that he’s the reincarnation of Rumplstiltskin, an ancient alchemist capable of spinning straw into gold and the contest is over. The Queen, smitten with the prospect of wealth if not beauty, carries him off to the castle at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave., Washington, D.C., and crowns him king of the realm. (The evermore of it remains in limbo.) A classic Cinderella formula where the underdo’ becomes top mutt, adversity is overcome, perseverance rewarded.
Yes, one might argue that unlike Cinderella, Trump is a less intriguing riches to riches story but we’re on about political theory here, a whole other science: Though no one would ever wish to be Donald Trump, the man waltzed onto the ballroom floor an ugly duckling, and came off covered with the tinsel and glitter of world prestige.
Hillary, well, Hillary is a story of Cinderella in reverse: Rather than rags to riches Hillary’s is a tale of riches to rags. (politically speaking.)
Heir apparent to the throne, the picture of royalty, a woman of grace and fashion, (well, there was that pant suit and the insane cackle) Hillary was already a Princess when she arrived at the ball in her 450-horsepower bejeweled pumpkin. The people applauded, accolades poured in the party voiced its approval. All that remained was a formal crowning and for all intents and purposes that cat was in the bag. The confetti was loaded, balloons hung ready, the polls held steady, fireworks set to go, the glass ceiling only a stones throw. One last dos-a-dos across the ballroom floor and — but alas, flat of her dos-a-do. Pumpkin fail big time! Oh well, even the scripture sez where there are prophecies, they shall fail.
And the prophets failed. They failed hugely. The party, its supporting cast the New York Times, LA Times Washington Post, Times Record, etc. An outbreak of confirmation bias swept liberal coverage of the contest like an endemic disease. Slam dunk! But time ran out the clock struck midnight and the magic of it ended; wheels came off the pumpkin and the party was over.
From hereto onward, the DNC’s national fortunes trail off in sputtering disbelief, cries of foul, political recrimination and riots in the street. Cinderella herself, assured of heaven but offered the opposite, retreated into a state of bitter attribution against every seat at the table.
Fraud! Cried the maddened thousands, (an echo answered fraud). But one scornful look from Casey and the audience was awed.
They saw his face grow stern and cold, they saw his muscles strain, and they knew that Casey wouldn’t let that ball go by again.
The sneer is gone from Casey’s lip, his teeth are clinched in hate, he pounds with cruel violence, his bat upon the plate, and now the pitcher holds the ball and now he lets it go, and now the air is shattered by the force of Casey’s blow.
Oh somewhere in this favored land, the sun is shining bright, the band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light, and somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout, but there is no joy in Mudville, mighty Casey done struck out. (From Casey at the bat.)
Democrats, unbelieving of losing the National Finals have been angsting the strikeout since, blaming everyone and everything from faulty umpiring to spitballs to doctored bats. Multiple complaints and investigations but thus far the best they have done is to create a new political scapegoat known in pathological terms, as MSM. (Melania’s Shoes Malady) The malady, incidental to the mocking politics of Vogue Magazine ‘describes someone who loses in a fair competition but whines about it on a constant basis, blaming everyone around for their loss except for themselves.
Its rumored that Melania’s shoes syndrome has so tickled the fancy of the liberal brethren that Democratic spokesperson Tom Perez has commissioned the American Bronzing Company to glaze a pair of ladies spikes to be enshrined at his offices down at the DNC.
Harvey, Hell and high water:
Caught between two high pressure systems, one to the east, one to the west, Hurricane Harvey morphed into a monster storm and applied its rage to Houston Texas, where it sat spinning for days creating havoc, killing 60, destroying homes, businesses and the livelihoods of multiple thousands. Our appreciation to Vogue and others of the liberal brethren for attempting to distract our attention from the misery and pain of it, and for all those Hollywood types for reminding us that there are fates worse than the catastrophic happenings at the hands of a wrathful mother nature. We needed that.
And thanks to concerned neighbors like climatologist Robert McAfee of the Citizens Climate Lobby, writing in the Times Record, Hurricane Harvey will not go to waste, rather can now be leveraged for political value in the debate on climate change. Will Harvey wake us up and make us realize we can’t continue to use our atmosphere as a sewer by pumping billions of tons of green house gases leading to climate change? McAfee might have found a far more sinister meteorological crisis for political exploitation had he delayed until Hurricane Irma, but then predicting the ‘when, where and ifs’ of future events have always proved unreliable even with a set of historical records at our fingertips. Best to go with Murphy’s Law; what can happen will happen.
It’s a fact the climate is changing, always has, always will, and that the 10,000-year trend has been toward warming. And it’s a fact that the planet’s human inhabitants for all their machinations and vainglorious sputtering have little to no chance of stopping or reducing the upward trend. The current world population is 7.6 billion, projected to reach 8.6 by 2030, 9.8 billion in 2050 and 11.2 in 2100. 83 million are added to the weight of this planet each year, and despite a decline in fertility rates scientists expect the upward trend in population to continue. I personally postulate that the more pollution producing critters, the higher the overall pollution. Life excretes what life ingests.
Despite fear of incineration stirred by Al Gore’s Armageddon Now society, worldwide there’s more death by cold than heat. And the fact is humankind can do little to effect either, one way or the other. Meanwhile humanity continues to move major populations onto land most vulnerable to the ocean’s temperament and tantrums. It’s much more likely we could manage human placement better than we could ever manage, under the most stringent of strivings, the pollution producing enterprise of 11 billion people.
Hmm? For certain a fixation with Melania’s shoes falls short actionable answers.