And those are just the Democratic pundits. Republican ones are mourning the death of the nation, if not fomenting actual civil war.
All of Trump’s enemies in the GOP are too chickenshit to attack him. Even Meatball Ron offered Trump political asylum in Florida by saying he wouldn’t let Trump be extradited from his state. Of course, even DeSantis, who looks so much like a lizard you might expect him to fall frozen out of a palm tree during a cold spell in the Sunshine State, is smart enough to know Trump is never going to huddle in Florida for all of 2024, saying “My bro Ron has his arms around me, helping me stay out of Rikers while we run against each other for President. Say hi to the other 49 states for me, Meatball Man!”
But it’s the Republican talking heads that are losing their shit like a popped colostomy bag. Trump Jr. cannot be lapped in the race for hyperbole—he compared New York prosecutor Alvin Bragg to Stalin, Mao, and Pol Pot for bringing charges against his dad, even though Bragg is fifty or sixty million murders behind the dead Communist trio.
Junior didn’t mention Hitler. The neo-Nazi vote in an integral part of the Trump base. No sense offending them before ’24.
Right behind Junior are eminences like Glenn Beck, who sobbed to Tucker Carlson that “America as we know it is finished.” Of course, Beck has been predicted the American Apocalypse since 2008, when Obama was elected, and while the guy in the park holding up the sign reading “The End Is Near,” may have been in the Doomsday-predicting racket long before Beck, the smart money is that Beck has banked millions doing it while that guy can barely afford crayons for his sign.
Tucker himself advised his audience that it was a bad time to think about giving up their AR-15’s. This is Carlson at his bravest, counseling Americans that they need to clutch their semi-automatic weapons to their chests like Lindsey Graham clutches his pearls, despite the school-shooting news of the week, just in case there’s a mass uprising that Carlson's audience would like to ride their diabetes carts over to this weekend.
Jesse Waters proclaims boldly that “This country (Ours) will not stand for this!” even though many of us are already standing. And cheering, with an air-horn in one hand and a bottle of Olde English 800 in the other.
Above all, Republicans are tossing around the phrase “banana republic,” in regards to our USA, in the sense that indicting one ex-prez makes us just like Guatemala, only with shittier weather.
What happens in a banana republic? For example, what if its leader loses an election, then conspires to have the election results tossed, stirs up a mob to desecrate its seat of government, all the while fund-raising like mad off his witless followers to keep his lawyers paid, and smuggling state secrets to his pool shack in Florida? If something like that were to happen here, does it make our nation banana-flavored?
No. That’s fine, according to Republicans. What makes us a banana republic is indicting an ex-President for paying hush money to a porn star he thumped bareback so he could keep the electorate from finding out that he always whips his mushroom out on any woman he can get behind a locked door.
Not that I’m criticizing the Stormster. I’m a fan. If the US Mint ever decides to print a $130,000 bill, they better put her on it.
In the meantime, I’m trying to relieve my anxiety about the US and its divided self, the forthcoming Civil War 2.0, the Beckian Apocalypse and the Tucker Carlson Motorized Geezer Battalion.
And I’m doing great at it. In fact, gotta go. Door Dash is here with another case of beer.