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Wednesday, December 13, 2017

There's got to be a morning after/If we can hold on through the night/We have a chance to find the sunshine/Let's keep on looking for the light...

You could tell it was over for Roy Moore last night when one of his interchangeable male, white, silver-haired campaign aides summoned a youth pastor and his bedraggled, submissive wife to lead the victory party in a string of dirges from the Southern Baptist hymnal.

But when Roy and more white men straggled up on stage forty minute later, it as clear God had not yet given the candidate the message He sent Moore’s sister earlier on Tuesday. Nancy Barksdale, 64,  told The Guardian,

“I think he will win. If God wants him to win, he’ll win. It would be awesome.”

Moore told the audience to go home: “It’s not over,” he assured them. The absentee votes were out there, and the active duty military votes weren’t even in yet. And there was the automatic recount if the margin was under one-half of one percent.

The delusional candidate was down 21,000 votes then- about 2%. The absentee votes were long counted, their totals released.

Nor were other Republicans slow to begin naming names.

Corey Stewart, the frontrunner for the Republican nomination for US Senate in Virginia in 2018, who had come to Alabama to campaign for Moore’s, said: “The Republican establishment got exactly what it wanted. It wanted to defeat a pro-Trump candidate like Judge Moore.”

Stewart lost this year’s Virginia GOP primary for governor after a racist, monument-worshipping campaign, changed the office he was running for and kept going. Another out-of-stater telling Alabama voters how much they hate being told who to vote for by out-of-staters, Stewart is himself a Michigander who, once removed to Richmond, all but campaigns in Confederate gray.

Conservative pundit Meghan McCain, the daughter of John McCain, wrote on Twitter: “Suck it, Bannon.” Bannon- one of the penis rights-obsessed men of Trump’s #Alt Right, declined the offer, instead blaming the GOP establishment- McConnell, the RNC: just “them” generally.”

Then there’s the *resident. Beyond cavil, Donald Trump is The Biggest Loser.

Last night he tried making nice, congratulating Doug Jones, the wicked pawn of Pelosi and Schumer, for besting Moore, whose flinty independence would not impede him being the willing pawn of Tillerson’s Moron. “But the write-ins!” he had to add, as if a 5,000 vote win wouldn’t’a been as good as a 21,000 vote win.

With Himself, though, the first word is never the last, and at 6.22 am today, he absolved himself. Godlike he seems but mortal he is, and insurgent he remains, because who knew governing is so hard?

Bannon, who turned Breitbart News into Roy Moore’s press shop, was happy to shift the discussion:

The *resident tweeted in from Cloud-Cuckoo-Land, where logic is the love child of a pretzel and a Mobius strip. The vote was rigged, despite a landslide of voter suppression reports against Jones voters who refused to be suppressed.

Black voters- just 26% of the population of Alabama- made cast 30% of the votes yesterday.

It was the God-fearing, censorious, proof-texting molestation-rationalizers who stayed home, torn, by the grinding gears of their hominy-fine moral standards, between a man who acknowledges abortion is legal and follows the law and a man who says the law is what God says it is through him, and who- while straight- is a little pervy.

If it was rigged, why as it so close? But that would beg other questions, like how the *resident won the election in a landslide that netted him a 3 million vote popular loss, his bacon saved by the original American Vote-Rigging Machine, the God-ordained Electoral College of The Founders.

Or how #MeToo women are good for society except for the ones who accuse him.

#SoSad. #ManyPeopleAreSayingLOSER.

Alabama, not STDs in the 1990s, was Donald Trump’s Vietnam.

He got 63% of the vote just two years ago, but both times he issued his ukases to the base this year, they told him to fuck off.

First, he backed Luther Strange, the Alabama attorney general whose moral compass was so finely tuned he managed to both investigate Governor Robert Bentley- the priapic sexagenarian dermatologist-governor- for corruption and do it so slowly that Bentley appointed him senator when Granny Sessions was uplifted by God and His Anointed, I, Trump, to be Attorney General (Bentley copped a criminal plea and resigned just ahead of impeachment by an impatient legislature).

Then MOTUS went down to Alabama for an 11th-hour primary rally in which he said he might have made a mistake- maybe he should’ve backed “Ray” Moore. And when Moore cleaned Strange’s clock, Trump started erasing his Strange-r tweets and pivoted to Etowah County’s First Cowboy (why is it the most risible figures of the right- like former Wisconsin sheriff David Clarke, who veers between the leather queen in a Village People tribute band and a Ruritanian general, dress, however inappositely- as cowboys? As someone said of Garth Brooks, they just look like a thumb in a hat.)

Then MOTUS was for Moore, then not so much as the news came that when it came to little girls, Moore’d see the *resident’s own pubescent preferences and raise him a big ol’ “pre-”.

Then he decided Moore was right- all them gals was lahrs and sluts, and that made it easy to deny his own words to Billy Bush and to sort of endorse Moore more.

But not enough to go back to Alabam and try that hot stove-lid again, so he went to Pensacola and yelled across to border to vote for Roy.

Then he realized that in his version of Presbyterianism, baptism is not by the sprinkling of water, but by election by the voters. If Roy Moore won after the voters knew he diddles little kids, then Trump would be born again!- washed clean, again, by the blood of vanquished liberal Democrats fighting their way upstream like dying salmon to cast one last vote to kill America.

So he huffed and he puffed and he robocalled, and the voters told him to fuck off- again.

Mr Art of the Deal managed to pick two losers in a row for the same election.

They just didn’t work hard enough to win me, he sighed, handing his tweet phone back to his former golf caddy like a putter before heading into the clubhouse. That round’s over. And no tip for the caddy.

1 comment:

  1. This whole blog post made my head spin. Kinda like in The Exorcist. But thank you, just the same.