We all know that sight, smell, and sound can trigger memory. Neuroscience has proven this to be true, finding that the same part of our the brain that processes our senses is also partly responsible for storing emotional memories. As someone who has on multiple occasions said “this smell reminds me of…” or immediately thinks of someone with just a few notes of a song, I am not at all surprised. I am shocked that it took actual scientific study, though, as it seems a clear and logical connection.
This sensory-emotional connection is very likely the reason the holidays are so overwhelming for many of us. We decorate, we prepare special foods that emit delicious smells, and listen to songs written and performed specifically for this season. These things are tradition, they’ve been done for centuries, passed through generations. It seems nearly impossible to not be triggered into remembering people and holidays past during the extended period of exposure.
While our senses can, and do, link happy memories to all of these things, if you’re anything like me, you sit with the opposite type for a little longer, and compare what is to what was. Who was there to who is gone now, or who wasn’t always but now is. Memory and feeling get all jumbled.
When I pull out the decorations, the ones I hand-selected to match my style and home, I can’t help but think of all the pieces I used to excitedly pull out of their storage boxes to help decorate my childhood home and our tree. There were definitely some ornaments that I tried to avoid using only to find that mom had pulled them out to display after I had finished. Those styrofoam, glittery apples were in a word: hideous. But the year we found the squirrels had gotten into the decorations and destroyed them was sad, and something I always think of when trimming the tree. Those apples were from my parents’ first Christmas tree after they were married. I get it now. Sorry, Mom, but they were still ugly.
When I bake my dozens and dozens of cookies, alone in my kitchen, in the organized, step-by-step, everything-must-be-uniform process I rely on, I remember the way we used to make them growing up. It was an explosion of sugar, flour, and so many sprinkles. It was chaos. The sweetest, happiest chaos of at least half a dozen people in the kitchen and dining room- mixing, rolling, filling, and decorating. Every surface in those two rooms got absolutely covered. We made such a mess. Again, sorry, Mom! But also, thanks. I also recall the batches of cookies that only Grammy made. I loved to see them, didn’t like to eat them – the anisette and almond extracts she loved were not my favorite, still aren’t. I would give up all of the baked goods in the world to have her at the kitchen table with those heavily flavored, secret recipe cookies of hers this Christmas.
I’m not at all religious these days, but a dozen years at Catholic school sure drilled an appreciation for those Christmas hymns into my head. I can even still sing a few of them in Latin. Though, I do prefer the non-religious carols and above all, enjoy the jazzy, swingy versions like those performed by Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. No matter what style they might be sung in, I cannot hear “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” or “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” without giggling at my Poppy’s versions. In case you were wondering, he insisted they were “Mark and Harold Angels Sing” and “God Rest Ye Gerry Mendelson.” Newer versions of misheard lyrics have weaved their way into the holiday memories thanks to my nieces and nephews. I think Poppy would have loved them and sang along.
Laughing while crying, smiling but sad, enjoying the presence of others while unable to ignore the void left by those absent. The holidays as an adult have taken a more reflective turn for me. I appreciate that I am able to see Santa and remember that time Aunt Betty decorated her entire bedroom to be Christmas year round. Or that year I learned the truth about how presents magically appeared under the tree after I heard one go thumping down the steps with Grammy chasing behind it cursing in Italian like we didn’t know what she was saying. And the time our extended family pollyanna was too much for the restaurant and Nanny was asked to never book there again. (For the record, I do not blame the management of that establishment at all! We were a lot then, and even more now!) All the visits from distant family friends and relatives, the local ones too, that slowed, stopped and have since faded to memory. All of it that comes rushing back with the hustle and bustle of the holidays, brings with it a twinge of sadness, sure, but most importantly, overwhelming gratitude that in all my years on this planet, I have been completely surrounded by love. No matter what else may change, that never will.
There are at least 14 holidays that occur in December. Each, I am sure, comes with specific sensory-emotion-memory triggers. So whichever one is yours, I wish you the happiest, merriest, best one ever.
About The Author:
Kitchie Ohh is a full-time professional fundraiser who has worked with a number of health and human services nonprofits for over the last 20 years, currently with a food-related Philadelphia nonprofit. She found her passion for modeling after a pinup-style photoshoot in 2013. Since then she’s worked with many talented photographers, stylists, hair and makeup artists in a variety of styles. She has been featured in -and on the covers of- multiple print and digital publications. Over the years she has branched out from pinup studio modeling to serve as a figure model for live sketching, walked a runway, and was part of two campaigns for local Philadelphia designer K. Vaughn.
In addition to her food insecurity-related work, she has also volunteered with art, historical, and community organizations, and even on the events team of a local brewery, pre-pandemic.
You’re just as likely to find her whipping up something deliciously plant-based in her kitchen or knitting a sweater as you are to find her on a photography set. Her motto is “be both.” The model and the homemaker, sultry and sweet, serious and silly. All the things, all at once.
KVaughn called and said he was on his way to New York to select fabrics for his Winter collection of custom made scarves to be released on December 2, 2022. Every time we talk about his trips to New York you can tell his energy easily matches that of the city that never sleeps. On that note, Kevin sent me a few voice notes for this article in an attempt for the reader to gather insight on how his creative process works. They are posted here as a linear series of voice messages. This season he focused on purchasing silks, cashmere and wool for his one of kind custom made scarves. He also hung out with this seasons muse:
VM 1: Friday, November 11, 2022, Magdim Towers, Philadelphia .
VM 2: Arrives in NYC, journey begins.
VM 3: Arrives at Chic Fabrics, 247 West 38th Street, NYC.
VM4: Has lunch at Lazzara’s Pizza Cafe & Restaurant at 221 West 38th st. NYC.
VM5: Muse Adira love arrives for photos and shopping in NYC.
Since we’re now just days away from major elections that can seriously alter the United States, I want to put out a few of my thoughts on the major issues.
I’ve been reading about Modern Monetary Theory (MMT), which essentially says governments can print all the money they want, deficits don’t matter, and related concepts. After reading what these ‘economists’ believe, I’ve come to think they belong in zoos. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the more money you create out of nothing, called fiat money, the less it will be worth in the real world of goods and services.
By the way, it is called fiat money because the Latin word fiat means, ‘let there be’ as in the Latin Bible, which has God say, “Fiat lux,” ‘Let there be light,’ since God created light from darkness, nothingness. Fiat money is backed by absolutely nothing except faith in the government that prints it. Few people understand this. U S money was originally backed by gold and silver, the gold standard, that we abandoned in the 1970s. Look at money printed before that, and it says ‘Silver Certificate’ on it, meaning the government would, on request, redeem it for silver. Try going to the government today and asking for silver or gold and see how fast the door slams in your face.
Any person with a functioning brain can see that government debt, paid in fiat money, causes inflation. The massive spending and give-away programs of the Trump and Biden administrations, as well as the Obama and Bush administrations before them, have reduced the value of our money. They couldn’t have any other effect.
The reason that Bitcoin and its copiers go up in value instead of down like government-issued money is that there is a fixed, finite number of Bitcoins and the others. No one can ‘print’ more, no government controls them.
Right now, because of Putin’s disastrous policies, the Russian ruble, another fiat currency, is practically worthless.
We should learn the lessons of the old German Weimar Republic that printed so much money the joke was you’d go to the store with a wheelbarrow full of banknotes and come home with a loaf of bread. People wallpapered their houses with money.
That hasn’t happened to the U S dollar yet, but it could if our elected officials continue to act irresponsibly.
And another point. If the government can just print all the money it needs to pay its bills, as MMT theorists say, there is no need or justification for taxes. Think about it.
Now, personally, I think MMT is a load of bollocks, but some very influential academics are spouting it to anyone who will listen, and indoctrinating future generations of economists in it.
And, BTW, the Federal Reserve that controls the money supply is not Federal and keeps no reserve. Fact.
The Federal Reserve was created in 1910 by a cabal of bankers who met in absolute secrecy at Jekyll Island in Georgia to plan how to take control of the USA by controlling the money supply. They included Henry P. Davison, senior partner of JP Morgan, Paul Warburg, founder of Kuhn, Loeb and Co., Frank A. Vanderlip, VP of what is Citibank today, Charles D. Norton, president of Morgan’s First National bank of New York, and other powerful bankers. They wrote what became the Federal Reserve Act of 1913. Thus was born ‘The Creature From Jekyll Island,’ the Federal Reserve.
Inflation is sure to be a big factor in the November elections, but as long as the printing presses roll out tons of money daily and the Federal Reserve keeps adding zeros to the bank’s balances, there’s very little the politicians can do about it.
There is nothing in the U S Constitution suggesting a central bank.
Now for the hottest of the hot potatoes, the abortion issue. Personally, I will take the antiabortion folks seriously if every single one of them signs a binding agreement to adopt at least one unwanted baby and raise that baby to adulthood. Put your money where your mouth is, folks!
I know a number of women whose lives were made better by choosing not to have a child they were not equipped to raise.
Abortion is a difficult personal decision that the government has no business intruding into, in my opinion. Because I am a man, I’ve never had to face that heart rending decision that can cause serious psychological harm, no matter which way it is decided.
We have politicized the courts in this country so much that judges can now make law, something they are manifestly not qualified to do. That was never their job. Legislatures exist to create the law, courts exist to enforce it. If the Supreme Court overturns Roe, as it is expected to do this summer, this will he a radically different country afterwards. Generations of women have believed their bodies belong to themselves. Now they’re going to learn that their bodies belong to the state. This thought is positively chilling! Orwellian!
Unfortunately, the writers of our Constitution didn’t think to include a right of personal privacy. They probably took it for granted. But we simply have no constitutional right to personal privacy in this country.
France does, as I learned while there. It is illegal there to photograph a private citizen without their permission. Public figures lose a degree of this right, and crowd scenes are another exception. Otherwise I couldn’t photograph the Eiffel Tower without the permission of everyone in the crowd at the base.
But, overall, I think this is an excellent law. French citizens own their bodies, their images, themselves. I imagine some other enlightened European countries have similar privacy laws.
And while I’m on the subject of law, I believe all judges, from the Supreme Court justices down to your local magistrate, should have term limits. Term limits insure an influx of fresh ideas and minds.
Those are just some of my thoughts on the political front. More some other time.
About The Author: Bob Shell is a professional photographer, author, former editor in chief of Shutterbug Magazine and veteran contributor to this blog. He is currently serving a 35 year sentence for involuntary manslaughter for the death of Marion Franklin, one of his former models. He is serving the 15th year of his sentence at Pocahontas State Correctional Facility, Virginia. To read additional articles by Bob Shell, click here: https://tonywardstudio.com/blog/cancelling_culture/
“Tick Tock (Knockin’ On Reckon’s Door – Second Knock)”
“I’m really rich!!” – Donald J. Trump
Those who are just that need not shout it from the rooftops. Only those who fall short must adhere to a sense of elongation of their own shrunken ego.
A lineage of lies from three generations of the Trump family; first, Grandpa Fred, then daddy Donald, and his trio of offspring have known the art of the spiel. Deals are one thing with negotiations and such. Yet, what Donald and the three adults who assist in the family business have done is to perfect the art of the spiel.
Not just a few crumbs or flakes of mistaken assets or decimals on balance sheets this situation is, as it is a cake of corruption. Or, more succinctly on point, a cow-pie of corruption.
Talk faster, talk smoother and lay the manure thick and wide. That’s the Trump way of being too cute by half with regulations, regulators and judicial entities both state and federal. With a perfected smile and a good spiel for any takers, their run of not being held accountable might be coming to an unceremonious halt.
“We see a lot of money pouring in from Russia” – Donald Trump, Jr.
Tick tock. Knock, knock.
Ivanka Trump, are you there?
Oh, no, I’m Mrs. Kushner. Ivanka Kushner is my name. I don’t know of that name Trump anymore. I’ve moved on with my husband, Jared Kushner and I am his wife only. No longer daughter of that person who used to be somebody. I am just Ivanka.
Tick tock. Knock, knock.
Donald Trump, Jr. and Eric Trump, are you there?
Yes, we remain, for we have the stain of the family name that can never be laundered or forgotten. I’m Don, Jr. and I’m Eric. We are Trump through and through. And, even if we wanted to run, race and do a Chuck Yeager away from that last name, we could never marry out of that financially, fractured lane.
“We don’t rely on American banks. We have all the funding we need out of Russia.” – Eric Trump
Tick tock. Knock, knock.
A spare daughter from the second wife is somewhere in the Trump kingdom of rusting ruins.
For Tiffany Trump, nobody sees her as part of this crude cocktail. Oh yes, she may have Trump as her last name, but she isn’t in the mix of misery which is the legacy of her father’s administration and its’ sphere.
Third son is now a father’s last refuge for him to hide behind. Yet, nobody is in the category of believing the last child of Donald J. Trump is a mastermind of machinations and inclinations of illegalities which flowed for decades long before that young man was glint of a droplet of his father’s prowess.
Yet, now it is the former President who wants to twist a legally sanctioned FBI search of Mar-A-Lago into an affront on Donald’s baby boy. I have little doubt that if Barron Trump wasn’t a teenager and just a baby of a few months that his father would have lined and stuffed the crib with some of those classified documents in hopes that the FBI would not do a thorough search of all areas of the property. Oh no, Donald, when the FBI comes to your dwelling with a search warrant they will look everywhere and anywhere they need to in search of those documents. And, if they have to go through your missus’ closets and your teenagers’ domicile inside of that gaudy palace you call home – then they will. Stop your whining, Donald Trump.
Tick tock! Tick tock!
Now, it seems to be Melania Trump’s time to peep up and whine about having someone’s hands on her drawers during the warranted Mar-a-Lago search.
Married to a man of 76, a brooding, smoky eye on the future of self-preservation for a woman who has many more a decade of living knows that time’s a ticking.
Hourglass is being shaken up to a Bossa nova beat for the 52 year old former First Lady, as her melody of keep on, keeping on after the old horse is gone is played.
Tick tock. Melania is gonna’ get her own groove back on in the future.
Donald Trump is acting as if he’s still in his glory days of the 1980’s when the media’s fascination was palpable for him. Here, there, and every-freaking where is the tale of Trump. Yet, as the 1990’s came rolling in, so did the dents and dimmed ash of the reality of this man’s kingdom crumbling from his own actions.
First wife, discarded for a Georgia peach in 1992. By the end of that decade, the bloom was off the orchard and it was time to move on. So, like a game of mirrored illusions, the presentation of the glitz and glamour would precede to entice the public with a spectacle of perceived wealth and stability. Yet, everything which Donald J. Trump does is for the sake of performance.
Third wife, well…it might just be the lady’s choice to move on this time. Either that can occur or she can just wait it out as the seconds tick away.
Then, there is the first Mrs. Trump, the recently deceased Ivana.
Every state has its’ own tax code, which can allow certain exemptions. In New Jersey, any land that is used as a cemetery can make taxes, assessments and rates go poof. With a first spouse buried on the grounds of his golf club, Donald Trump suddenly has the elimination of those pesky pennies he’d have to pay in taxes. After all, a man who professes his wealth to blatantly can’t lose a penny to poverty.
A golden lady who Ivana Trump was will forever now be on the green; or should I say in a shabby plot beneath the earth near the first hole at Trump National Golf Club Bedminster in New Jersey.
By the way, the dearly departed Ivana was 73. Donald is 76.
Donald, you are not a nubile and naïve ingénue betwixt 19 and 29; but, a weathered, rapscallion of many a decade long in the tooth.
Time waits for no man, Mr. Trump. And, even with you trying to beat off the sands of the hourglass and legal reckoning; the grains keep on falling with a possible indictment tossed in for good measure.
If a human being can live to 100 years, then the tick of the hourglass keeps draining down to that final grain.
Donald Trump, a man who thinks all which his grubby hands have ever touched, or whose beady eyes have ever glanced upon, thinks every scrap of paper that ever passed his purview in his former position as President of the United States is now his possession for eternity.
Oh, this man is sorely mistaken in his own miserable mind. The top-secret, classified, confidential files are NOT YOURS! They belong to the government and the American people.
Since that is a fact, I might as well go down to the National Archives and put in my FOIA to see those files for myself. They do not belong to Donald Trump. They do not belong to any former President.
When a President leaves office, and oh yes, you had to GET OUT of that White House on January 20th, 2021; you leave the documents right where you found them and not pack them up and transport them to whereabouts that would seem unknown.
Donald Trump is a creature of bankruptcy and bloviating; both of which he is well marinated in. He is a man who never met a corner he couldn’t resist buffing down his own mercurial dimensions. He is a man who owes a whole, lotta’ money to a whole lotta’ entities, many which may be way beyond anything considered a financial institution.
Time is finite and on a continuum. Donald Trump cannot outrun justice forever, even if he thinks he can. Unlike the simplistic dismissal and derision that was put upon Special Counsel Robert Mueller, First Impeachment Chairman Adam Schiff, and Second Impeachment Chairman Jerrold Nadler, the former President is dealing with someone that he can’t easily be caricatured in the right-wing Trump-o-sphere.
Although Mr. Mueller, Schiff and Nadler have investigative power via Congressional mandate, the Attorney General of the United States, Merrick Garland has the ability to criminally charge the former President.
In other words, you are now messing with the people with the handcuffs and authority to take you into custody and into a holding cell.
So even as you bark and howl at the injustice of a search warrant being served at your pad in West Palm Beach, just be glad were not at home and you didn’t act a fool to interfere with them gathering the boxes of documents.
At the time of the FBI search Donald Trump was in New York City for a court ordered deposition in an investigation by the New York Attorney General involving the Trump Organization’s financial shenanigans. By the way, the man who consistently scoffed at anyone who took the 5th in any sort of court hearing took it more than 445 times. So, as it always is, do as Donald says and not as Donald does.
Tick tock is the clock and it never stops.
Donald Trump had more than a year’s worth of time to be humble, apologize and give back those files that the National Archives had been gently pleading for you to return to that government agency.
But, oh no, Donald Trump had to be the arrogant son-of-a-Trump he’s always been, in mimicking Daffy Duck’s squawking of “It’s Mine!! It’s Mine!!” and putting up a tantrum on his rancid puss.
Venue shopping for the perfect judge to oversee his case versus the Department of Justice involving those classified documents Donald Trump found a kindred spirit in Judge Aileen Cannon, who’d been rocketed onto the Florida bench by Mitch McConnell during the period between that eleven-week transition to inauguration.
Tick tock. I guess that period of time seems to prove more advantageous as the days go by.
With Judge Cannon, she might as well have gotten down off that bench, tossed off that black robe, and sat with the Trump legal team to give them all the legal assistance that they needed to hold off the Department of Justice’s further investigation.
She even was making up arguments that they even didn’t come up with, as she insinuated that the classified documents were not verified as being classified; even though there is photographic evidence in the DOJ’s affidavit for the search warrant of Mar-a-Lago of multiple folder with labels marked as ‘top secret’.
To all who are swallowing the swill of untruths from the Donald J. Trump spigot, just remember that everyone doesn’t drink from that same well as they do.
Note to Donald Trump – Special Master Raymond Dearie ain’t no punk that can be rolled over by you and lawyers; because his judicial power does not flow from you being the person who nominated him to the bench and also is not in the bucket of being co-opted or compromised to do your bidding in a courthouse.
Judge Raymond Dearie isn’t a ‘dearie’ that needs a patting on the head to get in his good graces. He is the real deal that shouldn’t be mistaken for some cannon of compliance.
Time’s a ticking and Special Master Dearie is ready to get down to business and go through those documents without haste. As the adage goes; be careful what you wish for, Mr. Trump. By your own wisdom you proposed senior US District Judge Raymond Dearie, based in Brooklyn, to be the Special Master in this matter and now you’ve got him.
“He works incredibly well with parties, but doesn’t tolerate nonsense. He will not allow parties, or attorneys, to play games, or play fast-and-loose with the rules.” – Richard Garbarini, lawyer at Garbarini Fitzgerald, New York
Looks like it’s off to a rocky start, as Judge Dearie seems not to be down for any foolishness your lawyers try to step to him with. This special master wants Donald Trump’s legal team to put forward which documents the former President actually declassified. And, unlike saying things on rally stages, radio streams, or written on social media platforms, it would be a crime in and of itself to say the same things in a court of law.
Without showing the paperwork that underlies how and when the documents were declassified, then Donald Trump is just pissing in the wind and howling at the moon at what he supposedly did. You can’t just say you laid the documents on a table and said a four-point blessing of declassification and it would materialize, Donald Trump. This has got to be in black and white and not made up on the fly to get you off the hook for any illegalities you may have committed.
Loose lips sink ships and Trump’s seems to be venturing into S.S. Titanic waters of that iceberg coming up quickly with each and every proclamation that comes from his mouth.
Time can catch up with a person when they least expect it. And, for Donald Trump, it seems all things that would be delayed or held off in his past by virtue of his position as President of the United States or becoming a recent resident of Florida is no longer an option.
Tick tock. Knock, knock.
Who’s there? New York calling.
Obsessed with the size of things, Donald is in a constant state of attempting to make everything of his bigger in every way. Slapped with a civil suit from the New York Attorney General with charges of misrepresentation of his organization’s financial statements from 2011 to 2021, Donald Trump made an enormous distortion of his net worth each year to feather his own pockets.
“This valuation estimated the apartment’s value at $29,738 per square foot. The property was also listed at more than 30,000 square feet when it was really about 11,000 square feet. Trump only lowered his size and valuation estimates of the triplex when Forbes published a 2017 article titled, “Donald Trump Has Been Lying About The Size Of His Penthouse.” – New York Attorney General Letitia James
For Donald Trump and Trump Organization various fillings it’s a game of high-low, like something of a “Card Sharks” game show. Okay, when he needed more loans and financial lines of credit from banking institutions, the evaluation of his properties and developments would need to be sized upward. Then, when it came time to file papers with the IRS to get tax breaks and other goodies for the well-healed, then those same entities would be sized downward to pay a lower tax bill every year.
Tick tock. Plop, plop.
Empire of Trump is going pop, pop.
Yeah, Trump, all of it right down the toilet, just like the papers you rip up and flush with such contempt, so is the camouflage of Presidential prestige you try to hide behind.
January 20th, 2021, the only thing you have from your years of the Presidency to take to Mar-a-Lago or anywhere else you go with you is your Secret Service detail. Air Force One goes bye-bye. Presidential Daily Briefing goes bye-bye. Presidential Seal goes bye-bye. And, lastly, but definitely the most importantly is any modicum of Executive Privilege for one, Donald J. Trump.
But, know this; the Secret Service might not share the color orange in your future; for that is a road which you’ll have to hoe all by yourself. After all, they are a law enforcement entity.
In the crapper is any semblance of a reputation of gilded name.
Vice-chair of the January 6th Committee, Representative Liz Cheney may have been defeated in her primary in Wyoming, but is not deterred in holding former President Donald Trump accountable for his actions which led up to that chaos on the Capitol and the FBI search at Mar-a-Lago.
As if the former occupant of the White House was some kind idol of heavenly being by some; Cheney revisited a few sighs from one of her former colleagues in the Republican conference cloak room when there were objections to the certification of results stating “the things we do for orange Jesus”. Like some bizarre citrus cult, Republican members of Congress bow down to a man who demands loyalty when it only is a one-way effort.
Bullying his way through life, Donald Trump makes us all feel at times as if we were the Prime Minister of Montenegro, being shoved to one side to let Trump trample all which is normal.
“There doesn’t have to be a process, as I understand it. You’re the president of the United States, you can declassify just by saying it’s declassified, even by thinking about it.” – President Donald J. Trump
Now, I shall share a solemn verse from ‘The Orange Jesus Version of The Holy Bible’:
1st Delassifications: verse 20:22 – “As I thinketh, I maketh so”.
WTF? You can’t just think you’re doing a skit on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson and pull a Carnac the Magnificent act on America in saying the thought of declassifying top secret documents is all that you needed to make your illegal act of taking the documents to Mar-a-Lago suddenly legal because you say so. Uh-uh, it ain’t gonna’ fly, even as you said it to one of your biggest supporters, Sean Hannity.
Even he can’t swallow that idiotic fluff you’re tossing out, like you once did with paper towels to the survivors of Hurricane Maria in Puerto Rico five years ago to this year.
Oh yeah, that was also another disaster that was exacerbated in the Trump years.
Donald never misses a chance to make himself the victim and even tries to drag Melania into the arena of being put upon when Mar-a-Lago was legally searched.
“She felt very violated. I mean, this is a terrible thing. They go into her closet, they go through her dresses, and who knows what else, and it wasn’t left the way it – they found it.” – Donald J. Trump
Speaking of that word ‘violate’ and women, well, let’s go down misogyny – oops, I mean memory lane.
When first confronted with the contents of that lewd “Access Hollywood” tape, Trump had the pebbles of intimating that what was said did not sound like him. Wow, even back then he was trying to squeak out something being ‘fake’. Just like he claims investigations into his financial misdeeds and ties to Russia are. But, then again, his old buddy Vladimir knows how it is to spread that numbing salve of misinformation about things being ‘fake’’ as with the maternity hospital that his forces bombed the life out of in Mariupol.
Yeah, Donald may have given a lackluster word of apology, but it wasn’t of remorse. I guess you would have to have honest regret over something for that to be so.
The boy born in Queens to the man in the White House is who Donald J. Trump has always been; with his fellow fanciers, predilections, gradations of predation, crass critiques, fallacies, and scant apology.
Kind of odd it is that a man who proclaims his prowess of ultra-masculinity gets a shaky bopping to a gay anthem at his rallies. Alas, Donald Trump can convey his softer side when it comes to a friend in being handsy.
They say what goes around comes around. I believe that to be true. Donald Trump being called on the carpet for the first time in his rarified life is something many people who have watched his act over the decades nod in agreement to, as the justice system has slowly creaked up behind him and bit him in his puffy posterior. Delay, deflect and deride is the playbook he uses with deftness. And, it’s worked quite well for him, until now.
You are a fraud of a man who says he holds women in high esteem, when the fact is you spew bitter vile from your lips to enlarge your ego on a poisonous screed. You are a fraud of success; a man who has frittered away millions and maybe billions due to your excess.
Time has boomeranged on you, Mr. Trump, as has the solidified will from corners you probably thought would never snap back. Merrick Garland has the will, as he’s shown you in approving the search warrant for the FBI to get those top-secret documents back. Letitia James has the will in exposing your once golden corporation as being nothing more than a rusted fraud. Fawnee Willis has the will, as she’s in the middle of investigating your scrounging around for 11,780 votes in Georgia.
And, lastly, in an ironic twist of fate, a person who is in the middle of trying to rehabilitate your administration’s flaccid reputation for the history books has stated a sobering truth that is a whiplashed verification to what you’ve done in dynamiting the peaceful transition to Joseph Biden.
“In Washington, it is kind of like a time-duration game, in the sense that you have to accomplish everything you can while you have the opportunity and the other side is doing everything they can to either frustrate you, attack you, stall you.” – Jared Kushner, Trump White House Senior Adviser
As to you, Donald, the ticking hands on the clock are shifting towards karma’s conclusion, as no longer will you stall justice or stall democracy for your own miniscule benefit.
Door of reckoning is opening.
“Tick Tock (Knockin’ On Reckon’s Door – Second Knock)”
“Tick Tock (Knockin’ On Reckon’s Door – Second Knock)” – FOOTNOTES
1.-“I’m Really Rich”: Trump Claims he Doesn’t Even “need financing” as Truth Social Deal Falls Apart – Salon Magazine