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San Francisco and Oakland: cities in change–and crisis?

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Spent the day yesterday with my family in San Francisco (only three BART stops from my house). We started with something that’s now become a bit of a tradition: dollar oysters with drinks at Waterbar at noon. I had mine with a glass of “J” brut, such a good drink with oysters.

Waterbar is an absolute joy to go to, with its expansive views of the Bay, the Bridge and the East Bay, which the Spanish Californios called “Contra Costa”: the opposite coast.

Normally, on a day as cloudless and sunny as yesterday, you’d be able to see Mount Diablo, the second-tallest peak in the Bay Area (3,849 feet). But the mountain was totally obscured by smoke hazing up the sky, drifted down from the wildfires up north that continue to ravage the state. My heart goes out to the people around Redding, who have suffered relentlessly from this scourge.

As a kid I wouldn’t have eaten an oyster if you’d paid me, but now, you can’t hold me back. They whet rather than satiate the appetite, even with bread and butter. Hemingway praised oysters “with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away.” Afterwards, we sought lunch. Maxine wanted to check out the rooftop garden in the just-opened Salesforce Transit Center. I hadn’t been there yet, so we walked the few blocks and took the longest escalator I’ve ever seen up to the gardens. (They’re also going to open an aerial tram.) All I can say is, visit this place if you haven’t already. It’s an instant classic. The terminal itself is an architectural marvel (it’s probably the most earthquake-proofed structure in the world), but most marvelous is the rooftop garden. It must be a quarter-mile long, with twisting trails and little nooks where you can rest and eat. The entire site is surrounded by a wall of skyscrapers, including Salesforce Tower, the tallest building west of Chicago.

This is really a spectacular achievement for San Francisco, a futuristic marvel; I don’t think there’s anything like it anywhere else in the center of a big city. It’s part of a chain of stunning development that stretches from the Embarcadero, on the Bay, west to Moscone Center. Absolutely stunning.

This elicited lots of political talk between us about gentrification and people losing their places to live. It’s stunning to see the brilliance of imperial San Francisco at this, its greatest, richest moment. But it’s sobering to think of all the people forced out of their apartments, many of whom, presumably, are now living on the streets, in BART corridors and God knows where else. I actually wondered how long it would be before there are tent encampments in the Transit Center garden, which is free to access. I doubt that the authorities would permit that, but still…things are tough in the Bay Area if you don’t have money.

The same thing is happening in Oakland albeit at a lesser pace. In my neighborhood alone an entire city-within-a-city is going up, all in the space of the last year or so. I’m glad I got rid of my car (I’m now carless) because traffic here is going to be horrible once all the new residents move in. Being carless (it’s been a month now) has been hassle-free. In fact, I’m enjoying it. I gather that carlessness is more or less a trend among Millennials, what with all the options (Uber, Lyft and so on), which makes me think that all of my life I’ve done things I thought were the products of my rational choices but which, as it turned out, tens of millions of others were simultaneously doing, which made them trends. What does this say about free will?

Anyhow, I personally welcome this new development but I know lots of people adamantly oppose it, for all the reasons I cited above. I think you can’t stop progress. You can manage it intelligently, but you can’t build a wall around a city like San Francisco or Oakland and say, “No more people allowed” when so many people want to live here. And yet the homelessness is extremely troubling. With it comes an increase in filth, litter, crime, human excrement in the streets, and vandalism, and at night, when I’m out and about downtown, the streets are scary, something out of Night of the Living Dead: zombies roaming around, muttering to themselves, gesticulating crazily. I’m an old man now: it’s discomfiting.

And yet I have no more answers than anyone else. The extreme liberals in Oakland insist that the city pay for housing, food and healthcare for the estimated 4,000 homeless people who live here. They even go so far as to say that the Police Department should be defunded, with the money going to homeless services. That’s insane, and is not going to happen. But it is, I fear, the sort of talk that Trump and his followers use as wedge issues to appeal to their white followers, who want simplistic solutions to enormously complicated problems.

 

 


From the Personal Diary of Donald J. Trump

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They say I wander the halls of the White House at night, like Nixon’s ghost, muttering at paintings and shaking my fist.

Well, so what? A guy’s gotta let off a little steam every once in while. It used to be that I could have Cohen or Weisselberg or some other flunky round up a call girl for me so I could relax. Those were the good old days, Diary! That’s how I got together with that Stormy Daniels. She’s a POS now, but whew, when I was bedding her, she was hot! A real slut—my favorite kind. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for me—nothing. And that includes golden showers.

When I was first elected I didn’t know if the Secret Service would help me get girls, or not. I mean, I had to be careful, you know? You can’t just say to them, “Get me a prostitute.” So one day, a few weeks before my inauguration (the biggest ever, by the way!), I said to the head of my detail (I’ll call him “Bob”), “Bob, uh, does the president ever get any privacy?”

“What do you mean, Mr. President-elect?”

“You know, time alone—out of the spotlight—where not even my family or my aides know where I am or what I’m doing.”

“Well, Mr. President-elect, we can make that happen. We can make anything happen.”

“What if, uh—now, Bob, give me an honest answer—let’s say I wanted something that was, uh, out of the ordinary, and required a little discretion.”

“Do you mean, like, marijuana, Mr. President-elect? I’m sure we can arrange that. We did for President Clinton. Or cocaine? We occasionally helped President Bush out with that.”

“No, no, Paul, I don’t do drugs. I mean—”

“President Obama liked to slip out of the Residence at night and go to We the Pizza with his daughters, sir. He’d just walk in unannounced and they’d order a pepperoni pie and—”

“No, no, Paul, it has nothing to do with food. It’s—it’s, well, more personal than that.”

“I don’t understand, Sir.”

Well, Diary, “Bob” was too stupid to figure it out, so I had him replaced. And the next guy, “Al,” was a lot smarter. Every once in a while, he would get me a girl. See, Cohen would find them for me, and let “Al” know, and “Al” and his men could get them in to me, in Mar-a-Lago, or Bedminster, or the White House, wherever—even in Helsinki, believe it or not. But now that Cohen’s gone and Weisselberg’s AWOL, I have no one I can trust to get me girls. That’s why I’m frustrated.

Look, what’s wrong with a POTUS talking to paintings of presidents anyway? Those are my peers up there on the walls, for chrissake: Jackson, Washington, Lincoln, McKinley, Reagan—good Republicans. (I had the White House ushers take down Clinton’s and Obama’s pictures—didn’t want to see those losers’ faces every damn day.) I can imagine the fuss the fake news would make if they knew that. But they don’t, and they won’t, because my White House doesn’t leak.

I’m gonna get that failing New York Times, I guarantee it! Just you wait and see. Traitors. They committed treason by running that op-ed lie. And that “anonymous”—why, he’s declared war against the United States. Firing squad offense, and we’ll do it right in the Rose Garden, where I can watch from the Truman balcony, hopefully with some KFC and a hot babe. That will be a good day. As for that Jew, Woodward, it’s too bad Nixon didn’t take care of him, back in the day. Maybe, someday, I will.

Rudy just called. He’s worried about Don, Jr. All I can say is, if that sunovabitch Mueller tries to lay a glove on my namesake and oldest kid, I’ll…well, I’ll cross that bridge when it comes. Sometimes, Dear Diary, I get so pissed at all this fake news. These Demon-crats, led by the Clintons, they’re trying to get me any way they can: lies, smears, innuendoes. And that Obama. Man, why can’t these ex-presidents just shut up and play golf? I’ll tell you, Obama’s the worst president we ever had. He really messed up the Bush economy, which had been doing so well, and it’s only because of me that this amazing Recovery has been so successful. So, yeah, I know I’m venting, but like I said, sometimes a guy has to let off a little steam. If only I could get a girl up here, a nice porn star. Dammit.

 


Trump’s war on The Resistance is imperiling even bloggers like me

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Aug. 5, 2019 – As I write this, I am in fear for my freedom, even my life. I am in a hidden location; Trump’s gestapo–an army of Homeland Security and Breitbart thugs–could come for me any time, and haul me away, with no charges and no lawyer, to “rendition” me in a black site, as they already have hauled away so many other “Deep State enemies.” However, I will blog as long as I have to capacity to do so.

It is now eleven months since the New York Times “Anonymous” op-ed piece appeared, eleven months since Trump demanded that “his” Justice Department and “his” Attorney General, Sessions, identify and arrest the “traitor” who wrote the editorial. And ten months since the widespread arrests and disappearances began. Democrats and civil libertarians at first screamed bloody murder. Then they, too, began to vanish: a Senator on her way home from the gym, a Congresswoman who told her husband she’d be right back from a quick trip to the market and never returned, a Federal judge who went solo on a fishing trip and whose campsite was discovered, a week later, undisturbed, except for the fact that he was never found, a Washington Post reporter whose bicycle was found in Rock Creek Park, with his shattered glasses on the ground beside it.

Soon the press stropped writing about the disappearances, even the New York Times. Journalists were terrified of reprisals; publishers understood how difficult a vengeful, all-powerful regime could make their businesses, and their lives. And Mueller? There never was a report. It is amazing, in retrospect, how quickly, how thoroughly he faded from the news. Nobody knows where he is, or what happened to him. For that matter, nobody knows if Hillary Clinton or Obama still live, and are free: we have heard from neither in months. Well, certainly, somebody knows these things–the people behind the purge. But they aren’t saying. The important fact is that the Mueller investigation simply ended, not with a bang, or even a whimper, but with an eerie silence.

And the American people? As I say, those who cared were cowed into muteness. Those who didn’t care, still don’t. As long as they have their creature comforts, they’re content.

The Internet went dead for nearly four months. No Google, no social media, not even email. The government took care of that—how it was possible for them to anesthetize the entire World Wide Web, I have no idea. Overnight—this was in the winter of 2018, Dec. 28th, to be precise—we were plunged back into a pre-computer world. Oh, we still had computers: word processing, databases and all that. But that was it, until the government announced the “new Internet” in March. All domains had to be registered with the Justice Department. They were assigned a new “.fox” tag. The “news” could be found at news.fox. A reinvented twitter was at twitter.fox. It is surprising how easily people adapted to the new restrictions. Millennials, especially, seemed not to care.

There did remain television. The regime even allowed MSNBC to stay on the air, although, of course, some familiar faces disappeared. Did Rachel Maddow go back to Western Massachusetts, under house arrest? Was Chris Matthews free? Who knew? They let Brian Williams continue, but he became essentially the administration’s biggest fan. (I’ll never forget his broadside against Hillary Clinton, in which his guests were Alex Jones, Steve Bannon and Rush Limbaugh.) CNN too remained (or was allowed to remain), and even Wolf Blitzer. At the height of the crackdown, he’d disappeared for three weeks—the network said he was “on vacation.” When he reappeared, on a Monday night, he looked older, thinner, gaunt, his cheekbones sunken, his eyes puffy and watery, his shirt collar too big. But it was him, good old Wolf! And he reported the news in the same old matter-of-fact way: Trump spoke to a rapturous crowd in Terre Haute, Trump celebrated his anniversary with Melania, Trump this, Trump that, all the reportage favorable to the president. Congress continued to convene, absent, of course, the faces who were no longer there. One wondered if Pelosi were alive or dead. Adam Schiff was gone, Cory Booker was gone, Eric Swalwell was gone, ditto Durbin, Feinstein, Maxine Waters, Elizabeth Warren, and on and on. The administration found replacements for them, nominally Democrats, but all voted all the time for every Republican bill.

Had The Resistance been a dream?

Perhaps. I remember, or think I remember, joining it, proudly, in September, 2016, even before the election.  I remember fighting the regime with every ounce of strength I had, knowing that Trump would do exactly what he has done, the minute he had the power to do it. I suppose it was the confirmation of Kavanaugh that finally convinced him to make his move. He knew, and knows, that there is nothing anyone can do to stop him, now, because that was the deal he made with Kavanaugh: I will appoint you to your dream job, if you promise me you will not let me be indicted, or subpoenaed, or charged with any crime, or be impeached, and guarantee that I can pardon myself. And, Brett, just in case you’re thinking of making that promise, and then breaking it when you’re on the Court, consider this: I remain Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces and head of all the intelligence agencies of the United States, and you have two lovely daughters, Liza and Margaret, and your wonderful wife, Ashley.

It would not have been hard for Judge Kavanaugh to read between the lines.

And so I write, from this secret location. I have no idea if anyone will ever read these words. But still! A record must be kept, of truth, of fact, of accuracy and freedom. Someday, History—

Wait! There’s someone outside, banging on my door. I get up to answer. Gus looks up, startled. I–

 


Reality show? No, televised jury trial

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It’s been a running meme or joke that the Trump presidency is a reality television show. The New York Times’ Peter Baker said Trump had brought a reality-show accessibility” to the office. CNN called this administration a “giant reality show,” while Bloomberg said his campaign and resulting presidency “resembled the reality TV performances” of his earlier career on “The Apprentice.”

I beg to differ in one important respect: this regime is not a long-running reality show, but a long-running jury trial.

There’s a big difference.

“The Apprentice” was a reality show. “Project Runway,” “The Bachelor,” “RuPaul’s Drag Race” are all reality shows. They’re pure entertainment, fluff, distractions. There’s nothing at stake for 99.9% of us Americans. The only people who are affected by the outcomes of these shows are the contestants themselves. As far as our lives are concerned, it doesn’t matter who wins or who loses. It’s just another television show.

Although the Trump presidency so far has had certain similarities to a reality show, it makes more sense to see it as an actual (as opposed to a fictional) T.V. trial that the entire country is watching unfold live on prime time television. The most famous such trial of recent memory is, of course, the O.J. Simpson trial, which made for some of the most compelling television drama of the 20th century. That trial was not pure entertainment (although entertaining, it was): it was a real trial with a real jury. Two innocent people had been brutally murdered. A celebrity defendant was trying desperately to stay out of jail. There was a lot more at stake than where Biggie and Tupac were.

In more ways than one, Trump’s presidency, and the media coverage of it, has turned into a long-running jury trial. The evidence is presented almost every day, both on television and social media, and in the newspapers. There are attorneys for both the defendant, Trump, and for the prosecution, such as Adam Schiff and Kamala Harris. And there is a jury: Us, the American people. We’re all collectively sitting in on this trial. We collectively consider every new bit of fresh evidence. And, as the trial wends its way toward a finale, we have to decide whether the defendant is guilty or innocent.

More and more of us are concluding that he’s guilty. Guilty as hell. We may not yet know the exact nature of his crimes, but sensible people know that he did commit crimes, for which he must be punished. Trump may once have calculated that by prolonging this trial—by stalling and obfuscating—he would win, when we all got bored with it. He could not have made a greater mistake. Nobody is bored by this. On the contrary, it’s the biggest show in the country. The longer it goes on, the more his ratings tank, and the more the American people—the jury—we–believe that “he did it.” And the more we’re willing to consider impeachment as the punishment (and possibly a criminal indictment, if not while he’s in office, then as soon as he’s thrown out).

And so, another week of the trial of Donald J. Trump grinds to an end. It’s been another bad one for him, very bad: the Woodward book, the “anonymous” op-ed piece in the New York Times, Kavanaugh’s sinking poll numbers and embarrassing evasions during his Senate testimony. As we, the jury, get on with our weekend, we can’t help but wonder what the diehard Trump enablers in the Congress—the Ryans, McConnells, Nuneses. Grahams and Hatches—are going to say when their president goes down in utter disgrace. Will they apologize to us, for having lied to us about Trump’s fitness to be president? Will there be terse “no comments”? Journalists will not let these Republicans off the hook, not now, not ever. The old question, “What did the president know, and when did he know it?” is going to be replaced with, “Senator/Congressman, why did you support Trump for so long, even when you knew he was dangerous, and probably criminal?” Good luck trying to dodge that one.

Have a wonderful, safe weekend! See you Monday.

 

 


Colin Kaepernick: Hero

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Colin Kaepernick is a hero to many of us. He was a sensation in the Bay Area when he became the San Francisco 49ers starting quarterback, in 2012, after Alex Smith got a concussion. Part of the reason for his popularity, in addition to his obvious football skills, was his physical appearance: heavily tattooed, with a superb, 6’4” body he enjoyed showing off in all its muscled, masculine glory.

So in 2016, when he began to kneel at games during the national anthem, it wasn’t really surprising. Colin was always unconventional. The fact that he was of mixed racial heritage lent a certain legitimacy to his actions. Of course, by 2016 a new voice had been added to America’s political discourse: Donald Trump’s. Trump immediately recognized that his base—the white, rural, under-educated religious extremists who form the Republican Party’s most loyal core—was agitated about Kaepernick; their phony patriotism was offended.

What sort of patriotism was it? The yahoo type: I call it “phony” because it wasn’t really based on love of country, but on rightwing racism and a grudging resentment of “the other”–from Blacks to Latinos to gays and Muslims. If Tom Brady had taken a knee, I suspect the right’s reaction would have been much more muted. But Kaepernick’s dark skin was the last straw for the white nationalists (as was Barack Obama’s). Breitbart went berserk, and Trump—always sensing an opportunity to boost his brand—jumped onboard. He became the leading Kaepernick hater, while also insulting every Black NFL player and threatening owners with ill-defined vengeance.

Now, with the Nike deal, Colin is back in the spotlight. Once again, the white supremacists at Breitbart and elsewhere are in high dudgeon, threatening boycotts and causing Nike’s stock to plunge (although it’s only fair to point out that the dropoff in price is merely relative: after the selloff on Tuesday, the stock was simply back to where it was on August 17, less than one month ago).

Objectively, this matter of kneeling is a perfect example of a manufactured issue. It’s a hot-button that some people, like Trump, know how to push in angry, irrational simpletons. The overt appeal to latent racism is clear; what doesn’t get discussed enough is the nature of this “patriotism” that they supposedly feel. What, exactly, is it? Definitionally, it’s love of our country, America, but—again objectively—Colin Kaepernick and his colleagues can legitimately argue that they, too, love their country, and who’s able to say they don’t? Colin expresses his love for America, and his frustrations and hopes, by taking a knee. Why is that wrong? What’s the big deal of the symbolism of standing during the anthem? The right never gets upset by the symbolism of a Christian baker refusing to make a wedding cake for a gay American couple. I’ve been to plenty of baseball games and not everyone stands during the anthem. Not everyone takes off their caps, as you’re supposed to. I never saw anyone get upset about that.

But Colin! Ahh, there’s the perfect scapegoat for rightwing racists. Since the right doesn’t have the slightest idea who he really is or what he actually thinks, he’s a cipher upon which they can project all of their hatred and resentment. Just as the Nazis projected their hatred and violence upon the Jews, so too does the American right project its violence upon Colin Kaepernick. The fact that he’s such a perfect physical specimen, while so many of them are obese and drug-addled, adds irony to the situation.

I thank Nike deeply for what they’ve done. They didn’t have to do it. You can be sure that Phil Knight’s advisors told him not to. But he chose to make a statement, a clear, unambiguous statement that some things are more important than profits. Will this help or hurt Nike in the long run? I suspect it will help them. Whatever “boycott” the right organizes will run out of steam within days, or weeks at most. These things always do. Does anyone remember the Caterpillar boycott of the early 2000s? Some boycott. It quickly fizzled, and Caterpillar’s stock went on a tear: by this year, it was at the highest level in the company’s history.

So let Breitbart and Hannity fulminate all they want. Events are moving so quickly that this Kaepernick-Nike ridiculousness will be forgotten by Halloween. And when the damning Mueller Report comes out and the whole world knows the shocking extent of Trump’s crimes, the right is going to have a lot more to worry about than Colin Kaepernick kneeling!

P.S. To the unnamed White House official who wrote the “Resistance” piece in the New York Times, thank you! You have performed a great service to your country.


Random Notes: Kaepernick, FLOTUS (oh, no!) and Kavanaugh

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I’m so happy that Nike has made Colin Kaepernick their “face.” Very brave of them. In the Bay Area, where Colin used to be the 49ers quarterback, the decision is quite popular: yesterday’s morning news reported on a brand new poll, taken after Nike’s announcement, in which locals supported the decision by a three-to-one margin.

In less educated parts of the country, predictably, the Nazis and white supremacists are not happy. Here’s Breitbart’s Facebook post from yesterday:

The #BoycottNike movement is exploding on social media over the company’s decision to name anti-America, anti-police, pro-Communist millionaire Colin Kaepernick as the face for the shoe company’s new advertising campaign…

Don’t you just love it? “Communist millionaire.” Ha ha. Breitbart has proof, mind you, that Colin Kaepernick went to Communist School in Moscow, where he was taught by Putin himself. And Breitbart’s readers, who are generally poor hates millionaires, just detests them. Which is why they hate Trump. No, wait…

Of course, the Trumpian nationalists are out there burning their Nike sneakers in faux outrage. They remind me of the poor white trash Christians who burned Beatles albums after John Lennon’s remark about The Beatles being more popular than Jesus. You can always count on this riff-raff to act stir up trouble, especially when they’re egged on by their rightwing agitators like Trump.

I went to Trump’s Twitter accounts looking for his latest rant about Colin and didn’t see anything, but this tweet from Melania made me laugh: “Students – as you head #BacktoSchool, think about what you wish to accomplish this year. You have so much power in your individual voices. Will you strive to #BeBest?”

Two things about it are really striking. First, Melania’s pet “cause” (#BeBest) is the most cynically vacuous as that of any FLOTUS in my lifetime. It’s like an advertising slogan dreamed up by a cereal company. “#BeBest! Eat Cocoa Puffs!” All Melania needs is a little jingle to accompany it. Clearly, this flim-flammery was hatched by her P.R. hacks to make it look like this pampered, self-indulgent woman is interested in something besides herself. Sadly, Melania has never given any indication that she has any interests at all, beyond glamorous clothing, presiding over mansions, hosting luncheons for her “girlfriends,” and hanging out with Barron, who I swear looks more and more gay with every new photo.

He’s wearing J. Crew. WTF? This blog lists J. Crew as the second gayest brand in America. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay: I am, and if Barron is gay, more power to him! But his Daddy is trying to ban transgendered people from the military, I wonder what Barron thinks about that.

The other thing about poor Melania’s tweet is the irony that her husband and his associates are bashing the Parkland students, including the fabulous David Hogg, for their anti-gun efforts, even as she’s urging “students” to express their “power” in their “individual voices.” Melania, that’s exactly what the Parkland students are doing!! Girl, if you had one-quarter of their integrity, you would be celebrating the Parkland activists instead of inventing a fake hashtag. Look, dear, you’re a punch line. Your reputation is in tatters: it’s irreparable, and you won’t be able to begin to restore your standing in the eyes of the American people until you divorce the philanderer, let us know how you really felt when he was humiliating you with all his ho’s and porn stars, and start leading an honest life, the way Jackie O. did after she left Onassis.

As far as Brett Kavanaugh is concerned, I’ll let my exclusive post from yesterday stand. To me, he’s just another angry, white Christian, pissed off that his ruling class is losing their power as America becomes more diverse. There’s a ton of such people; Kavanaugh would just be one more dreary cog in their ignorant machine, except for all the damage he’ll go as a Justice. I doubt that Democrats can stop him from being approved by the Republican majority, but I will warn Republicans that they will see widespread civil unrest if any or all of three things happen for which Kavanaugh is responsible:

  1. Ending gay marriage
  2. Banning abortion
  3. Letting Trump escape prosecution for his crimes

If Brett Kavanaugh is any student of history, I hope he’ll realize how perilous his situation is. He can help to diffuse it by refusing to kowtow to his Republican and Vatican bosses now that he has a lifetime appointment. Or he can throw gasoline on the flames and know that what ensues will be his fault. He can be Stephen Johnson Field, the Supreme Court Justice who’s been called “the worst SCOTUS ever” because of his white supremacist ideology, which included voting for Plessy v. Ferguson which upheld racial segregation. Or he can be a champion of civil rights and freedom, like Earl Warren, William Brennan and even Anthony Kennedy, men who are rightfully celebrated for making America greater by extending liberty throughout the land.

 

 


From the Personal Diary of Brett Kavanaugh

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Dear Diary,

I played this one well, dontcha think? Been preparing for it for more than twenty years now. Just imagine me, little Bretty Kavanaugh, a middle class kid from D.C., on the Supreme Court!

Those Dems think they’re gonna trip me up but they’re not gonna lay a hand on me. We’ve been moot-courting this thing for months: me, Lindsay Graham and Orrin Hatch. There’s nothing any Dem’s gonna ask me that I haven’t already been asked a dozen times over.

I had the good sense (if I do say so myself) for the last twelve years while I was on the Court of Appeals to keep a low profile and not write anything that could get me in hot water when this moment came, which I always knew it would. So there’s nothing in my public record as a judge that’s gonna come at me.

I gotta say that I’m glad Trump is playing hardball on my documents from before 2003. There’s stuff in there that could be a problem. I was pretty fierce on abortion—against it, I mean. ‘Course, as a believing Catholic, I have to be against killing babies. I’m sure somebody—maybe Kamala Harris—is gonna press me on being Catholic: can I divorce my judicial decisions from my religious beliefs? That’s no problem. All I have to do is reassure her that of course I can. Just between you and me, Dear Diary, obviously I can’t eliminate my religious beliefs from my judicial opinions, because my Catholic beliefs are the Word of God, and God is higher than anything, including the U.S. Constitution and Stare Decicis and all that. So I will vote to overturn Roe v. Wade just as soon as I get the chance! But I’d never admit it in public.

Dems will also ask me about gay marriage. Now, don’t get me wrong, Diary, I have gay friends and even a cousin who’s gay, and I love them, as my Lord and Savior commands. But the Bible says marriage is between a man and a woman. That’s the way God wants it, and by gum, that’s the way it’s gonna be, if I have anything to say about it—and once I’m sworn in, I’ll have plenty to say about it! I imagine that when we overturn Obergeffel there’s gonna be a shitstorm in America, with every damn gay marching in the streets and screaming for my head, but that’s okay. Jesus will protect me. America has to return to her Godly ways or else the atheistic terrorists will win.

By the way, Dear Diary, Dems are gonna try and get me to say a president can’t be indicted or subpoenaed, and they’ll also try to trap me into saying that, in my opinion, the Special Counsel law is unConstitutional. Obviously, those are my opinions: a President is absolutely shielded from being indicted or subpoenaed because the only way a president can be held to justice, if he breaks the law, is by impeachment. And I see nothing in the Constitution to allow for the creation of what is essentially a fourth branch of government—a Special Counsel—with co-equal powers, or greater, than the three branches the Constitution spells out. So, yes, I would vote to stop the investigation now. In fact, during one of my private talks with President Trump, I told him that, if he fired Mueller and I was on the Court, I’d uphold his action. I don’t know if that was part of the reason he picked me—but I have to assume it was!

He’s a great man, President Trump. Sure, as a Catholic, I don’t agree with some of the things he says and does (that pussy grabbing thing really bothered me), but the Constitution doesn’t say we have to elect an angel as president. It just says he has to be a citizen and at least 35. (In Obama’s case, I’m still not convinced he’s American—but I’m not gonna say that either!) So, yeah, Trump’s not very moral; I think probably he doesn’t even believe in God. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s essentially running the government in a Catholic way, which is how I think America should be run. (Not that I’m a big fan of Pope Francis. Too liberal.)

So here we go, Dear Diary. Pretty soon, I’ll be an Associate Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States! And, together with my fellow Catholics on the Court, we’re gonna bring Jesus back as the leader of the free world.


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