A not so light take on the news

Oh dear, Donald Trump is back. Remember 2020? Apparently, that time, the elections were rigged and the wannabe tangerine tyrant encouraged and instigated a coup on January the 6th. But it doesn't appear to have mattered. 

Remember the pandemic? He claimed that it would disappear as if by magic. When it didn't and thousands of people were dying, he had many solutions; horse medication, malaria medication, a shot or two of bleach and if all else failed, he suggested shining a light where the sun literally doesn't shine. But it doesn't appear to have mattered. What mattered is that bacon was cheaper when he was President.

Remember his debate with Kamala Harris? He suggested that Haitian migrants were eating people's pets. Yes, according to him, Haitian migrants were living the high life, consuming dog tartare, cat fritters, not to mention foie gras, courtesy of geese captured in public parks. But none of that matters. What matters is that bacon (bought legitimately from a grocery store, not offcuts of pet pigs) was cheaper then.

Remember his recent rallies? The usual name calling (thankfully, he didn't manage to get one to stick to Kamala Harris), the hateful rhetoric that had the maga crowd braying their approval in unison, the town hall Q&A where he swayed to music for forty minutes. (I'm tempted to start a novena to Mary to help wipe out the memory of him swaying to Ave Maria.) Most importantly, remember his enactment of 'Fifty Shades of Orange' with a hapless microphone? But none of that matters. What matters is that bacon was cheaper then.

Remember Trump's far right version of Woodstock at Madison Square Garden, where a comedian said that Puerto Rico was a 'Floating island of Garbage?' Not funny and not even intelligent because garbage may float but islands don't. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that bacon was cheaper then.

Remember when he was convicted of 34 felonies? But that doesn't matter, what matters is that bacon was cheaper when the Godfarter was the President.

Remember when Joe Biden stepped down and made way for Kamala Harris? The promise of hope and help to the 'sandwich' generation, so that their parents may have home care if they need it and their children could have help buying their first home? Remember that she kept repeating it (and her other policies) every time she spoke but some people couldn't hear it because they didn't want to listen. The optimism didn't matter, the policies/promises didn't matter, the joy didn't matter. None of it mattered. What mattered is that bacon was cheaper then.

So, in conclusion, it appears that Kamala Harris lost to a pig.

A lighter look at the news (in quite sometime)

It has been quite a while since I wrote my last blog post. Why now? Because, when I need a distraction, I find that taking a light hearted look at what's happening (or happened) in the news, is quite therapeutic. Also, a lot has happened. 

We, here in the UK, acquired a new King. Charles promised to modernise the monarchy. And true to his word, he rocked up to his coronation in a golden, horse driven, carriage, resplendent in a bejewelled crown, a cloak that looked like it had been lifted straight out of Cruella de Ville's closet and clutching a staff in one hand ('Holy Moses' was my somewhat apt reaction).

I wish I could tell you more but I stopped watching there. I may've been tempted to continue if Louis had been one of the Pages. I can imagine him yanking Cruella's cloak or snatching the staff out of grandpa's hand and bopping people on the heads with it. Alas, he wasn't, so I switched off.

We also got a new government. Conservative Prime Minister, Rishi Sunak, unexpectedly called for an election and not unexpectedly lost to Labour. I don't know much about our new Prime Minister, except that his title and his name rhyme - Sir Keir. I also imagine, if I asked to speak to the manager at a Waterstones book shop, someone who looked like him would turn up to talk to me.

Talking of British Prime ministers, Liz Truss, has been seriously fangirling over Donald Trump. Honestly, the lettuce that outlasted her tenure as PM, would make a better salad than words coming out of her mouth. It makes me quite cross that she can, if she wishes, pocket a six figure annual sum of money for her 45 days of chaos.

I also hope Rishi Rich doesn't claim any money, simply because to him, £115,000/- is like loose change in the pocket of his ready-for-the-floods-at-anytime, ankle length trousers.

For sometime, politics across the pond was a snooze fest (and I mean that literally).Trump frequently fell asleep during his hush money court trial. At some point, he woke up to find that the jury had found him guilty of 34 felonies. It should have been 35 but he got away with the charge of causing unease due to his gaseous emissions. That charge was dismissed  on the grounds of reasonable doubt, what with gas being invisible.

Then there was the much anticipated 'Debate' between Joe Biden and Donald Trump. Unfortunately, President Biden had an out of body experience. The lights were on but nobody was home. The man on the other side, predictably lied through his teeth and every pore of his orange tinted skin.

Undecided voters in the US wrung their hands in consternation. However were they to trust an elderly career politician who had a senior moment (albeit one that lasted for almost 90 minutes) as compared to an elderly, career fraudster! It started to get tense, as the fraudster appeared to be gaining favour.

He appeared to gain even more favour, when an assassination attempt was made on his life. A bullet, shot by a republican, whizzed passed his ear, taking a few skin cells off his pinna with it. Sadly, someone did get killed while trying to protect their wife and daughter.

With no pressure put on him at all (except perhaps from Clooney, Pelosi and maybe a few other prominent democrats) President Biden came to the independent decision to step down. He invited his VP Kamala Harris to step into his place. And suddenly, there was music and dancing, optimism and good vibes, and most importantly, joy.

On the other side, there was, and still is, whinging, vitriol and dour predictions. And, I imagine, there's more than just tomato ketchup being flung at the walls. There appears to be the toxic trial name calling to see what sticks (Kambala, komrade, crazy and that old chestnut, 'crooked'.) But nothing appears to be sticking. It's as if the walls are coated with teflon.

On the one hand, Kamala Harris' VP pick, Tim Walz, appears delightfully charming and exudes joy.  On the other hand, Donald Trump's VP pick, J.D. Vance (he of the obnoxious 'childless cat ladies' fame), has all the charisma of a disgruntled turnip.

So, whilst Harris is dancing with Walz, Trump has no choice but to dance with Vance. 

The US elections have gone from being boring to being exciting and I can't wait to see it unfold.

Until next time, try and keep it light.