(No Longer) North of Foster, (Still) Left of Center
Sunday, June 04, 2017
Knives and a truck
Every time I think he's hit the absolute moral bottom, he grabs a new shovel. Every time I think he's won the race to be the least presidential, he adds a five-mile sprint past the finish line. Every time I think there's no possible way for his words and actions and impulses and his very thoughts to demonstrate his abject, tone-deaf, non-linear, catastrophic imbecility, he sends a new tweet. Every time he's proven beyond all doubt that he's beholden above country to party, lobby and foreign manipulation, he clumsily confirms a deeper level of his selfish corruption. Every time it's crucial that he's there to do his job, he goes golfing.
Every time he sees an opportunity to exploit other people's tragedy for his own personal or political gain, he all but gleefully makes sure he squeezes out what in his puerile mind is the maximum return on his investment.