Political Circus

The political circus was in town on Tuesday, drawing a crowd of ye 7,200 adoring fans to a rah-rah ego stroking campaign rally for the Republican POTUS, otherwise known as the Liar in Chief.

Yes, I live in Youngstown and I am NOT one of his adoring fans. In fact, I personally do NOT know ANYONE who lives within the city limits of Youngstown, Ohio, who is a fan.

Correction: I think one of the shopkeepers that I talk to downtown is a Republican, so odds are that he voted for Trump, but doesn’t talk about it.

I do know a guy who lives in Boardman who voted for him… so did some friends and family down in Columbiana County, mostly small town or rural folks who believed half the propaganda nonsense they read online about Hillary involved with child pornography and killing off her husband’s lovers.

Yes, some votes were influenced by REALLY FAKE news… their votes for Donald Trump were more or less just votes AGAINST Hillary Clinton. Some didn’t even like Trump, but voted “for the party, not the man” claiming that who the man is doesn’t really matter. I wrote about that in Political Fish.

And, to be straight up honest about it, there are a LOT of quietly racist people in rural Ohio who voted for Trump because they wanted a white man in the White House, any white man would do… except Bernie Sanders, if that makes sense at all. Those are the ones who cheer the loudest as Trump strives to undo Obama’s legacy.

Sure, he does have some supporters who so actually like him… but, just my opinion and observations… the reason why Trump keeps bringing up the election, Obama, and Hillary in his tweets and speeches (which seems to baffle most of us because the election was so last year) is to maintain the support from people who voted for him even though they did not like him… he has to keep those voters engaged.

I went downtown for awhile… passed out some free buttons, but did not stick around for the protest (my legs won’t let me) and made it back home before the main event.

 

 

FRIDAY NOTE:

Reading the full text of Bill Browder’s testimony to the Senate Judiciary today put the investigation into Russia’s meddling in our election into perspective. It’s some deep shit… explains the reasons for the Magnitsky Sanctions. Trump may call the investigation a political witch hunt, but reading Browder’s statement makes it blatantly obvious as to why Putin wanted Trump to become POTUS; he’s got major money on the line… Trump was (maybe still is) Putin’s best chance at getting sanctions lifted.

Questions remain… was Trump aware of the reasons for the Magnitsky Sanctions? Or, is he extremely naive or just downright stupid? Did he cut a deal with Putin, one billionaire to another, accept Putin’s meddling with a promise to lift the Obama era sanctions? Was a promise given, or just implied?

Trump’s pen will tell… will he sign or veto new sanctions on Russia?

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Hot Box Blues

Do you know what I miss most about my old friend? The ability to openly and candidly discuss anything. Ironically, my inability to do exactly that is what destroyed our friendship. And it is not just the conversations that I miss. The friendship I valued dearly is gone and the person I deeply cared about, and still to this day care about, abruptly axed me out of his life.  He’s one of those guys who thinks it is “cheating” if a woman with a boyfriend has male friends.

I still catch myself looking for a familiar scrawl when I sort the mail. Alas, there is no redemption for a woman who wants her cake and eat it, too.

PHOTO:  cake with grandchildren last Sunday.

Speaking of cake, today is my 57th birthday. My sister Dee treated me to lunch at Pandora’s and then we did a bit of shopping.  While I was gone, the old G locked the house down tighter than a drum and took off to the VA so when I came home, it was like walking into a frickin hot box.

LATER:  Well, plans for our evening cookout got hi-jacked while I was making beans and potato salad… the old G hopped the last bus downtown at 6:45 PM. His plan was to stop at his apartment to get his meds, then take the 7:15 nightline bus back down South Ave, get off at the store, buy some ears of corn, and walk home… total round trip ye maybe an hour. It’s now past 10 and I’ve no idea when he will be here. He did text awhile back, said his daughter is coming, so I assume he is still at his apartment downtown waiting on her to give him a ride.

This is one of those things that really matters when you are young, but age makes you more prone to be more understanding. He is a disabled vet, has metal rods in both legs, and walks with a cane. I know he dreads that 20 minute walk into our hood from the store on South Ave, especially in hot weather, so a promise of a ride is enough to detain him.

Am I mad?

No… just means that I got myself a nice quiet night home alone so I can do things that I don’t do when he’s here… like blog.

Well, he is on his way… he still plans to fire up the BBQ even though it is 10 frickin 30… he will be out there grilling way past midnight. Oh well. All I do is roll with what comes.

July

Fireworks lit the sky
Laced with little lies,
I’m too dry-eyed to cry
Contemplating good-byes.

Are you still mad at me?

~N.

It is hanging on, uprooted and replanted for a third time. I am like this vine, with the appearance of being half dead deceptive. Life still flows through the dried out twigs, follow the path to green leaves and blooms.

The plant went to my sister’s in Salem, Ohio, when I moved into a high rise apartment building without any outdoor space of my own in Youngstown. She later moved to Michigan, left the plant with her son. Then my mother dug it up and brought it up after I bought a house on the south side. The vet helped her plant it near the concrete angel that, I assume, marks the grave of an unknown pet. And it is, despite appearance, hanging on… still alive.

I’ve yet to plant Mr. Marsberry, his ashes still in a can.

The clock ticks. Thanks for reading.