Author: BC

There’s a great scene in the classic film Norma Rae, when the title character, played at Oscar-winning caliber by Sally Field, asks the pastor of her congregation to use the church for a union meeting. She makes clear a number of black folk will be in attendance, and declares if he refuses the request she will leave his flock. The pastor, busy adding a coat of paint to the facility, barely takes his eyes off his chore and matter-of-factly tells Norma how much he will miss her voice in the choir. What Would Jesus Do? That’s an inquiry many a theologian has pondered on a selective basis.

The vivid hypocrisy on display these days regarding support of perhaps US history’s least God-fearing President is nothing new. Sadly, up and down the line, throughout the seminal moral conflicts of our maturation as a nation, many an otherwise pious servant of the lord has been on the wrong side of history, often attending to the line laid to follow by their church leadership. Slavery had no problem finding warm comfort in the weekly sermons of southern preachers. Ditto Jim Crow a century later. Congregations throughout the US prayed for the souls of “savages” even as Manifest Destiny destroyed their way of life. The many charitable avenues of Catholic outreach prove inadequate to beguile the decent from a top-to-bottom cover up of crimes so despicable they discourage retelling.

Lately we see some of the ugliest inconsistencies yet, carried out in the name of protecting the unborn and ensuring “religious freedom,” not to mention reviling desperate immigrants with the temerity to believe our national story. Widespread as it is subtle, encoded as it is unmistakable, what bedevils us today is no different from prior bouts of wretched disingenuousness steered in full from the dais, and wholly supported by the collection plate.

The Falwell Jrs., Grahams and Jeffress are merely new names on an old list of nasty hypocrites. What’s new is how dependent the President they buoy with false acclimation has become on them and theirs. Take away evangelical devotion and Trump’s 93% of GOP voters becomes much softer. The moral majority may be neither, but within the Republican base they call the shots. Make no mistake, they could deliver us from evil…. if only they didn’t adore him. Like many of the President’s wretched core, born again Christians will swear it’s the agenda stupid when pressed to explain how a serial adulterer and Howard Stern’s all-time favorite guest gets a pass for behavior they’d disown their own kids for. In fact, Trump has delivered the culture war goods, his selection of Mike Pence as number two assuring the looney right gets more than its fair share of love from the bully pulpit.

Yet and still, even more than Pro-Life extremism and the right to foist indignities on those whose sexuality they’ve decided deserves no quarter, let alone a wedding cake, the undertone of Trump’s evangelical support feels much like that of the rest of his wretched core… a disdain for those who populate his ever expanding enemies list. Whether it’s illegals, liberals, independent counsels or blacks ungrateful enough to protest getting shot by police while unarmed, turning the other cheek and loving the sinner appear to be on the back burner these days. It’s amen to MAGA intolerance as empathy now suffers at the border, a casualty to protecting our sovereignty from the invading hordes, the chaotic caravans. He’s keeping us safe, who cares if he paid off a porn star? God demands perspective, all things to their rightful importance… these are rapists and drug dealers we’re talking about! Pay unto Caesar and all that.

The surreality of Mr. pussy grabber signing the Bibles of those nature just tragically reminded she won’t be ignored dovetails with the preposterous dichotomy of flyover Christianity’s disdain for a good many things they know Jesus would do. Bigotry and xenophobia don’t get people to the head of any post-rapture line I’m aware of. Trump certainly never cared one way or the other, and now a solid majority of born-again America doesn’t seem to either. First things first, I suppose; let’s keep it white and right… worry about salvation once the job is done.

The worst number Trump polled among Christians was 66 percent in the midst of the government shutdown. Since then it’s been ticking back up as the President latches on to the infanticide lie Republicans pinned on Democrats for the gall of favoring a mother’s survival. This is a Handmaiden’s GOP and Trump is all in. However, even with Pence taking every opportunity to polish the Administration’s extremist bona fides on the Pro-Life front, the ugly attacks against most every group not on Roy Moore’s mailing list seems to really keep those awaiting judgement day enrapt. Don’t bother asking them WWJD when they’re in a lather over who Trump hates most at this moment… they’ll just tell you where to go. BC

Were one to poll Americans on human traits most important to, not simply leadership, but the role of a decent citizen, it would be a safe wager gratitude, humility and honesty would all be near atop the list. As far as Presidents go, it’s hard to cast an image of those we celebrate as our greatest without effortlessly imparting those critical characteristics upon them.

“Honest” Abe is more than myth or fable, any scrutiny of the record of his time in office quickly uncovers a man devoted to truth, and willing to pay a price for pursuing it. Harry Truman called his Chief of Staff, George Marshall, “the great man,” a testament to Truman’s own humble persona. FDR was stricken as a young man by polio, and fought tooth and nail his entire adult life against the disease’s destruction of his mobility, yet most always had a bright and cherry disposition for the world, and nothing in the way of self-pity, the plight of the ungrateful. Over and over we find through the history books these basic yet critical underpinnings threading through the record of great leadership. Hand in hand, peanut butter and jelly, one necessitating the others.

Conversely, the opposite more than often holds true and reinforces the initial premise. US history’s worst Chief Executives were near always the other side of the coin… morose, insecure and untruthful about their circumstances. Andrew Johnson by all accounts was petulant and intent on acting to erase the legacy of Lincoln without much worry for the nation’s interest. He even scheduled a national speaking tour to hold forth on just how fortunate the country was to now have him at the helm… sound familiar. By the time he resigned his office, Nixon had taken to the bottle and spent much of his time in seclusion, regurgitating his ever expanding list of enemies, darkly hosting his most bigoted inclinations. Bill Clinton figured the US was so lucky to have his brilliance, dabbling with an intern and outright lying to the cameras about it was an exemption greatness bestowed to him…. many disagreed.

“Common sense” seems always to pervade our national discussions. The answers are right there in front of us, it is often maintained, if only we brush aside the cob webs our predilection for complicating matters creates. Shades of grey don’t always need to be conjured for effective assessment. Oliver Wendell Holmes famously cut through the tomes of legalese to declare he knew pornography when he saw it. Ditto a President we can get a decent night’s sleep under. Newsflash.. the current White House occupant ain’t it. That this doesn’t appear obvious and “common sense” to millions clarifies a stark crisis and places us squarely in uncharted waters. The fact that so many readily acknowledge Trump possesses not an iota of gratitude or humility or honesty, yet is still acceptable, declares forthrightly a new disdain for the Presidency’s majesty in our national life, a shrug that utilitarian concerns rule the day and subordinate humanity when assessing the world’s most powerful job.

Voracious criticism of Trump’s frailties has become an annoying, repetitive cliche. Finding new words to describe his ugliness is now a cottage industry many have grown weary of; that’s called normalization. What he did two years ago was unprecedented and horrifying. He never stopped doing it, in fact does it more than ever. It’s all still there hourly, the lies, the unhinged rambling, the overt bigotry and personal attacks on opponents, and near every American institution; yet now it’s old hat and more often ignored as if it may go away… it won’t.

His CPAC diatribe last weekend was his longest yet, more than two excruciating hours. Same ugly themes, same ridiculous self-glorification, same lie after lie, just more of it for an audience that deserved every agonizingly dull moment they received. Yet and still, it’s even more of a national emergency than it was two years ago because then there was hope the GOP would exert its will on his worst… that went by the wayside, as the Cohen hearing sadly confirmed.

A new Quinnipiac poll finds almost 7 in 10 voters believe Trump was guilty of crimes before his election. One-third of GOP voters think the President was a criminal. Since more than 4 of 5 Republicans support Trump, it’s clear many do so despite accepting the premise they voted for a lawbreaker. Incredibly, only 32 percent responded yes to the question of whether they believe the President is honest. Any way one dices that figure, a substantial percentage of the GOP base backs Trump even though they believe he is a liar. To put that number in stunning perspective, Barack Obama’s figure on the same question, in 2015 near the end of his term and with a rabid Fox-incited GOP base, was 53 percent.

What does it say about where we are that so many seem prepared to toss basic decency aside as a Presidential prerequisite? Is the GOP wretched core ensconced in self-loathing, confident they deserve no better? Or perhaps Trump’s amorality is exactly what they’re looking for, the better to carry out the dirty work their nasty grievances and resentment require? Maybe his skill set is ideal for ugly tasks like displacing families and banning Muslims, telling allies to shove it and African-Americans to just do as they’re told and quit acting so street. Perhaps a nihilist, fully resistant to the peaceful transfer of power the world relies on our system to faithfully facilitate, is just who they want. Some have said the times make the man… maybe now, instead, it’s the mob makes the monster. BC

“I think it’s important to explain why calling Pence “a decent guy” is an affront to the real meaning of the word”

Cynthia Nixon

CPAC, the circus of Fox/AM stars, is the nation’s most toxic echo chamber. Once a year at the National Harbor, America’s true snowflakes meet to assure each other their pain is shared… and legitimate. They meet to draw the line squarely between righteous resentment and bigotry. They spend three days reminding each other over and over, the better to make it true, that the names they are called for expressing their beliefs are simply the sour grapes of those who have lost the argument. At CPAC all are vindicated because everyone agrees with one another.

Since 2016 Mike Pence has been the gathering’s true keynote speaker. While the President has appeared faithfully as well, his monologues can never be counted on to be coherent, let alone provide flesh to CPAC’s mission. It is left to Pence to stick to his script, first robotically rehashing Trump accomplishments in his patently servile manner, and then anointing attendees in the moral righteousness only his bible thumping can bestow, allowing them to fan out afterwards reinvigorated to kick some serious liberal, socialist, queer, illegal, climate changing, BLM, anthem kneeling, Caitlyn Jenner ass!

Pence doesn’t orate so much as hisses folksiness. He’s vanilla that has turned, exuding a faint acridness. At CPAC, like most other red meat gatherings he specializes in, the Vice President creates symmetry between his twin purposes. First, define the villain and then make sure everybody knows Trump is leading the charge against them. Coding and subtext are advanced and well understood at CPAC. Kicking the LGBT community back into the closet is not mentioned at all, it doesn’t have to be. The “war on religion” covers vast swaths of bigoted muck. Casting hate as victimhood is a Pence specialty, and he personalized it this year.

At Immanuel Christian School in Northern Virginia they take their demands for spiritual purity very seriously. Indeed, the contract for employment at the school spells things out clearly, particularly its 8th article:

“I understand that the term ‘marriage’ has only one meaning; the uniting of one man and one woman,” it reads, adding that certain “moral misconduct” would be disqualifying, such as “heterosexual activity outside of marriage (e.g., premarital sex, cohabitation, extramarital sex), homosexual or lesbian sexual activity, polygamy, transgender identity, any other violation of the unique roles of male and female.”

Tough love to be sure. Heroic Karen Pence had no problem signing away her privacy, and made no apologies for doing so. At CPAC, the Vice President, feted “mommy” as a heroine to the packed house, the whitest of snowflakes, withstanding the worst of MSM scorn with dignity and grace. One was reminded of Kentucky’s Kim Davis, basking in the prophood Mike Huckabee accorded after she stood bravely on the courthouse steps to deny sodomites marriage licenses, a culture warrior standing her ground.

CPAC used to be a curiosity, a gathering of extremist freaks without filters, unabashed Beck and O’Reilly groupies, a cautionary omen of the dystopian specter Fox/AM run amok could create. Of course, those of us too concerned about that possibility were ostracized as pseudo-conspiracists, obsessed with ghosts and frightened by fantasy. Now it’s real and Pence crystallizes how bad it has become, and how much worse it can get. What was nothing is still nothing…. but it now occupies the White House.

Anybody truly familiar with evangelical America is not the least bit surprised it can worship a serial philanderer; that was never part of its criteria for loyalty. Personal peccadillos may rule the day over at Immanuel Christian, but as far as Presidents go, it’s all about the womb. Abortion fanaticism is the Rosetta Stone of right wing obedience. Trump’s calculus has never considered anything else. Offending most American women never phased Trump. He is, after all…. offensive. But a full embrace of A Hand Maiden’s Tale sensibilities on a woman’s control of her body ensures a pass on anything as pedestrian as porn star payoffs or other seditious corruption. Last week’s House Oversight fiasco served notice the GOP will enforce such selectivity. Through it all will be steady Mike Pence, the nation’s leading homophobe and misogynist, ever ready to pound the good book and rally the zealots, just as he did Saturday.

Trumpism is a crisis at so many levels, but none more significant than this critical question: is overt bigotry against traditional Democrat constituencies such as women intent on keeping government out of their uterus; those interested in being allowed to enjoy non-heterosexual intimacy free from scorn and disdain by Puritan busybodies with nothing better to do; and brown-skinned immigrants classified as verminous interlopers bent on violent crime sprees, now simply a legitimate sector of our national discussion and quite naturally subject to rhetoric abided within other areas of debate? Trump’s ugly assault on near every White House convention has been fully normalized by the GOP; ascribing credibility to Trumpism’s nastiest policy sensibilities naturally follows. CPAC’s carnival barkers, keynoted by Pence and his unhinged hero, punctuated that desire this weekend. What boundaries? It’s all fair except calling us names.

Pence will keep at false equivalency because it’s in his wheelhouse. His is a constant whine of circular resentment. He announced long ago a sense of shame wasn’t a concept he pondered much. Now he uses his bully pulpit near exclusively to argue for the legal sanction of vast groups of Americans, legitimated by theocracy yet motivated by little more than fear and disdain… the foundations of Trumpism. At the end of the day Pence is simply vacant, a huckster with little to sell. He and his need to hear two words often… Get Lost! BC

Anybody with sense at all knew from the outset the Trump Presidency was going to be a slog. From sixteen sorry minutes of truncated dystopian gibberish passed off as an inaugural speech, to a disturbing visit to CIA Headquarters, where he unabashedly laid bare a dangerously ignorant worldview and served notice how fully disdainful he would be toward any actual preparation for carrying out his duties, Trump has only regressed with time’s passing.

For those of us invested in our nation as going concern, this Administration has provided not a moment’s pause from the worry of nihilism at the helm, complete with a near daily desire to offend the senses. Trump doesn’t simply fail, he flails and fails, exhibiting the wholesale insecurities of one certain he never stacked up, but cluelessly hostile to any notion the public could be in on the secret. After all, megalomania is simply an outgrowth of pathological fear of failure.

Yet and still, as bad as Trump showed he was capable of behaving, as low as he proved determined to descend, there was, at least in the beginning, faint hope the GOP would sooner or later lose its ability to dodge duty in favor of party. There was that glimmer of possibility Trump’s relentless assault on propriety would make the right thing harder to ignore. Alas, whatever flicker of light still shone on that fading prayer for decency was fully extinguished yesterday.

Michael Cohen devoted his best years to running interference for Trump, intervening like some rabid jackal whenever his boss’ manic amorality was challenged by a wider world predicated on reason and shared responsibility. Yesterday, Cohen was asked how many times he had to insinuate himself into situations for Trump, episodes requiring ugly threats and intimidation, relentless F-bombs and promises of nefarious litigation…. his unique skill set. Fifty times? More. One hundred? More. Two hundred? More. Five hundred? Sure, over ten years, yea, that’s sounds right. In other words too many times to count. Enough times for it to become second nature. Standard operating procedure.

And so we finally get to the center of Trump’s onion, the very heart of why he is so destructive to our system of governance. Fact is, it was there all the time, his nom du plume, the jist of who he is, the full extent of his frailty…. A clinical refusal to take responsibility for any consequences his reckless narcissism continuously mars the world with. He’s always been the kid who just wants to keep opening Christmas presents with no desire to actually claim ownership and nurture anything. Verucca Salt with bad hair and worse skin. Cohen was on-call for whenever the world had the audacity to demand Trump answer for some mindless action, pay for something he broke, a deal he welched on, a human he trampled in search of the next gift to hurriedly unwrap.

Yesterday’s House Oversight hearing was exactly as Chairman Cummings described it, a new chapter that would necessitate the President again face the world and answer for his ceaseless pursuit of a responsibility-free existence, even as he, incredibly, occupies the world’s most accountable office.

Yet and still, never let it be said the White House doesn’t kick things up a few notches. Now, instead of one wild-eyed hyena ready to tear the flesh off of anybody daring to hold Trump accountable, there are multitudes of such beasts. who Cohen, himself accurately decried as “doing just what I used to do,” even as they engaged in one frenzied attack on him after another, not a one caring an iota about the disturbing charges he backed up against the POTUS, each instead making sure their insults carried a personal touch, the better to make local Sinclair newscasts back home.

Jim Jordan, the ranking member, ever bent on distraction from scandalous recollections by former college wrestlers he coached of his indifference to sexual assaults by a now disgraced team doctor, seemed glad to lead the pack. After an opening statement straight out of a Sean Hannity monologue, Jordan constantly repeated the same set of attacks on Cohen’s credibility without ever once addressing the substance of his charges. He seeped in righteousness as he proffered again and again that the sanctity of the committee room had been forever tarnished for hosting such a scoundrel. “We’re better than this,” Jordan mourned as he ignored proof a sitting President signed checks to pay off a porn star, and used charity funds to noxiously reimburse a ringer to drive up the price of a self-portrait at an art auction.

Mark Meadows from NC made his bones as a birther. Indeed, there is footage of him on the stump imploring voters to help him send Obama “… back to Kenya or wherever.” Of course, a sense of shame has never been in vast supply within the Tea Party, and Meadows punctuated that point by literally providing Lynne Patton, a token black Trump staffer, for show and tell to illustrate how the President loves his minorities. It was deja vu of Trump campaign rallies… “there’s my black!” Meadows also had his own staffers busy looking for gotcha moments he could run with. Again, the fact none of it had the least bit to do with the plethora of charges Cohen proved against Trump didn’t bother Meadows… nor, he was certain, his target audience.

From creepy Clay Higgins of Louisiana – a cross between a very bad Gary Cooper impersonator and wingnut former Milwaukee Sheriff David Clarke – to unhinged Paul Gosar from Arizona, who actually taunted Cohen with “liar liar pants on fire,” Republican committee members couldn’t froth enough as each breathlessly awaited their five minutes. How many different ways can one be called discredible scum? The GOP Rottweilers did their level best to answer that question for the nation yesterday, along with serving the clearest notice yet that Trump’s infinite peccadillos are nothing they plan to consider as liabilities. Doesn’t matter how ugly he becomes, Trump is the date these nihilists are holding close and going home with.

Several weeks ago, throughout his State of the Union address, despite having just needlessly shuttered the US Government for more than a month over a moronic campaign promise Mexico was never going to pay for, Trump was cheered on like Reagan by a faceless group of rowdy GOP adolescents. Yesterday we met some of them, and became fully acquainted with the harm they are ready to foist even in a minority capacity. This bunch is the dregs of our barrel, who owe Trump whatever relevance they can garner themselves on his gilded coattails….. and they lead the GOP House Caucus! Their shameful actions yesterday leave no doubt, until they are further marginalized with decisive electoral rebuke, we will all suffer for their servility to US history’s laziest, most corrupt and relentlessly divisive President. It’ll get worse before it gets better. BC

In horse racing parlance there is a term used when a promising colt faces more established opponents for the first time… “tested for class.” Will the upstart be able to exhibit the enduring qualities necessary to compete at a level he hasn’t yet experienced? It is, of course, a question easily translated to the two-legged world as well, applicable to all of us when challenged with situations demanding our best. How we “class up” goes far in predicting our success in life… or as a nation. Implicit in the term is a type of behavior, a way of doing things that distinguishes one from those unwilling or unable to bring such qualities to the table. Much of it is not something one can practice, you either possess class or you don’t, and there are many opportunities life presents to lay bare whether one has it or not.

Matt Kuchar is a solid, world-ranked professional golfer. Until last November, however, he was too often embodieding the not-so-complementary label many who follow the PGA tour assigned him long ago…. “check collector.” This term applies to a number of otherwise top pros, who nonetheless find winning a tournament a bridge too far. Week after week they make cuts and play solid enough golf to finish in the top 20, or even the top 10, which with today’s stratospheric PGA purse structure means they are multi-millionaires and corporate billboards, yet and still victory most often seems to elude them.

This wasn’t how it was so supposed to go with Kuchar. He arrived on the scene with vast potential for greatness. A two-time All American at Georgia Tech, Kuchar won the US Amateur Championship in 1997. In 1998 he was the low amateur in both the Masters and US Open. By the time he turned pro in 2000 it was assumed by most he would join the PGA tour’s elite before long, several major titles certainly seemed attainable. However, Kuchar struggled out of the gate, and actually had to go through the indignity of requalifying to get back his playing card before he revamped his swing in 2008 and began to finally achieve some of his earlier potential.

However, 20 years later it remains accurate to term his career underwhelming from initial expectations. No doubt he is a fixture near the top of yearly earnings lists, won the 2012 Tour Championship and a World Match Play title as well, and is usually a candidate for Ryder Cup play, but the wins have only come in fits and starts with no major titles among them, and that surely couldn’t be what the angular Georgian had in mind back in 2000.

Yet and still, these days millions are won on the PGA tour without ever touching a trophy, and it only takes one to relight the relevance candle. Last November at the Mayakoba Challenge in Cancun, Mexico, Kuchar scored a solid victory worth a cool $1.3 million, turning a prosperous season into a winning one. That his regular caddie decided to take the week off speaks to the modest expectations Kuchar brought south of the border. When he hired local caddie David Ortiz to carry his bag, they apparently didn’t even discuss actually winning the tournament, but agreed to $4000 if Kuchar finished in the top ten.

Much of what defines class revolves around what a person doesn’t have to do. To simply cater to what is mandatory marks a bare minimum level for making one’s way through civilized society. Class involves an effortless grace exhibited by gestures one takes upon themselves, picking up a dinner check, complimenting people without fail when it’s important to them, treating those attending to you as customer with respect and gratitude, allowing propers to come one’s way without first fishing for them, gracefully accepting defeat…. and victory.

It is assumed in our society that financial comfort affords those fortunate enough to enjoy it the time and opportunity to expand whatever predisposition they possess toward class. Certainly a windfall of $1.3 million for one fortunate enough to make millions playing a sport many can’t even afford to pursue would present a perfect opportunity for inner grace to shine. No doubt Kuchar was grateful to the local Ortiz for dutifully handling his bag and advising him on to a victory he didn’t count on and would present many welcome opportunities coming into 2019. If tour players are treated like sultans, tour winners are treated like gods.

Of course Kuchar was under no obligation to pay anything more than the $4K they agreed to, but regular tour caddies customarily received 10% of a winner’s share. So a range was established by which Matt Kuchar’s class quotient could be meticulously quantified… $0 to $130K. To be fair, one could argue a full 10% may have caused problems with his regular bag man, who was rueing his decision to stay home, but there was ample room to do the right thing and really share his good fortune, endowing a life changing windfall to somebody who clearly deserved it. What would Bobby Jones, the Georgian all others are measured by do?! How far up the ladder would the victor’s generosity go?…..Alas, Kuchar went low and decided a $1000 tip was sufficient. After winning $1.3 million the best he felt required to do by David Ortiz was an extra $1 grand. Cary Grant he ain’t! The genteel Jones surely turned in his grave.

As word got out about Kuchar’s stinginess, and questions began coming his way from both golf and mainstream press, he appeared genuinely mystified by the controversy. After all, a deal was a deal; he was under no obligation to give Ortiz anything extra. “For a guy who makes 200 a day, a 5000 dollar week is a really big week,” Kuchar declared, holding to his guns as he waited for the controversy to pass….. It didn’t.

Once the story went viral on line and social media waded in, it began to dawn on Kuchar he might want to rethink his position. For his part Ortiz made clear 10% was never an expectation, but neither was it unreasonable to hope for something far more substantial than what he had been offered. Kuchar’s agent offered 15K to end the issue; Ortiz had 50K in mind, about 4% of the winner’s share. Meanwhile, Kuchar, as vanilla and uncontroversial as any player on tour, was now taking relentless heat, while ironically playing some of the best golf of his life, beginning the 2019 season with yet another victory in Hawaii’s Sony Open.

Kuchar finally decided to accede to the 50K figure, hoping to put an end to a fully self-inflicted distraction. In addition, he made a sizable charitable contribution and issued a public mea culpa, admonishing himself for clueless cheapness he came to recognize and assured all would not repeat. Unfortunately for him, it will take a while for event galleries to forget the incident; derisive comments will linger in the air for months to come.

The entire episode is instructive because it illustrates a clear divide everpresent throughout our national discussion. Even a cursory look at social media comments and various op-ed pieces on the subject highlights two camps: a clear majority disdainful of miserly conduct from someone ungrateful for his outrageously great life; and a significant minority who fail to see what he did wrong, convinced living up to his obligation was more than enough. And there it is…. class vs. no class. Every hour we now see in the White House constant proof that material wealth in no way guarantees class. Matt Kuchar, and his defenders, clarify way too many in our nation have no idea why it should, and no concept of why that’s a problem. Our current national malady in a nutshell! BC

“It is an undeniable privilege of every man to prove himself right in the thesis that the world is his enemy; for if he reiterates it frequently enough and makes it the background of his conduct he is bound eventually to be right.”

George Kennan

The Post War economic and societal benefits America has derived from a peaceful Europe are immeasurable. For 75 years now we have enjoyed ever expanding markets for our exports and a political/military alliance that has not only embraced our leadership, but been willing to subordinate countless domestic political requirements to requisites we deemed necessary.

When “no nukes’ was the unifying rally cry of Europe in the early 80s, flooding capitals with hundreds of thousands of protesters, Chancellor Helmut Schmidt accepted US intermediate-range Pershing II missiles on German soil. When George W Bush was knee deep in the folly of Iraq, nobody was more unwavering in their support than England’s Tony Blair. And as Barack Obama agonized over his options in Syria, French President Francois Hollande offered staunch support despite his desire for a more aggressive approach.

These are but several examples of a long list, European leaders falling in line with the ebbs and flows of the US political landscape. No doubt plenty of contentious issues have arisen throughout the decades, but they were never permitted to poison the well of good will. Whether it be a conservative revolution or “hope and change,” NATO has faithfully danced with the partner that brung em….. Until now.

In Munich this week, the annual security conference of the Western alliance, until 2017 an opportunity to bury the hatchet and express genuine mutual gratitude for cooperation that has kept the peace for three-quarters of a century, exhibited how truly bad the vibes have become. Judging by the reception accorded VP Mike Pence, there to yet again upbraid Europeans for mooching off US generosity, and demand they mimic America’s war footing toward Iran, patience has been fully exhausted, and tolerance for Trumpian guff has waned to the point even basic cordiality seems a bridge too far. When manners give way to pride and self-respect, things are going south in a hurry.

The long overdue pushback was led by German Chancellor Angela Merkel, on her way toward retirement and no longer able to abide factless preening by American oafs. Merkel was as systematic as she was devastating in her criticisms of Trump’s destructive disengagement from global leadership. She made little effort to hide her disgust toward the President’s reckless withdrawal from Syria, categorically asserting it only benefits Russia and Iran. Merkel was equally disdainful of Trump’s mindless protectionism, how are BMWs made in South Carolina a danger to US shores, she wondered aloud. Moreover, she spoke for everyone when making clear allies will not follow blindly America’s annulment of the Iranian nuclear pact it negotiated just several years ago.

Pence was pathetic following the standing ovation Merkel’s presentation received. Absolute silence met the breathless announcement he brought all greetings from his master, who at that very moment was playing his 168th round of taxpayer funded golf. When Pence declared Trump “the leader of the free world”…. a dropped pin would have echoed throughout the hall. America first doesn’t mean alone, intoned Pence, and the US is “leading on the world stage once again.” Only Ivanka Trump was clapping.

Europe has had enough. Two years ago nobody imagined things could deteriorate so fast, but the icy stares and incredulous looks directed at Pence as he cluelessly kept to his John Bolton script, said it all. America who?!

It was later left to Joe Biden of all people to assuage the bad feelings Pence only reinforced. We’ll come to our senses soon, Biden promised the gathering. Just a blip on the screen. An ugly aberration I’ll work tirelessly to undo if my yet-to-be-announced candidacy bears fruit. Believe me, we won’t make this kind of mistake twice. Most in the hall wished they could believe him, but the assault Trump buffoonery foists on the senses sorely tests any inventory of faith. Four years is going to be very hard to do… eight an unimaginable specter.

Yet and still, a “screw the US” mentality is beginning to grow, based on the idea that taking Trump at his word and proceeding accordingly is only prudent, preferable to sitting by the phone waiting for news of his ouster. Trouble is, European unity is itself fraying at the seams. Brexit and Trump wannabes in places like Hungary and Poland, who Secretary of State Pompeo happened to be coddling at practically the same moment Pence was bombing in Munich, make this the worst possible time for American-NATO estrangement. Given the fractures forming left and right, is a return to 19th century balance-of-power arrangements that far fetched?

Of course all of this couldn’t sound better to Putin, who’s name and country were conspicuously absent from Pence’s remarks. In fact, it’s become fair for Europeans to ask whether Trump’s America even shares their view of Russia as an adversary any longer. Certainly nothing from the President’s mouth or twitter account would allay that fear. Trump divides the world into two camps: those who “treat me fair” and those who don’t. Pep talks for Chairman Kim, perhaps the world’s worst dictator, are as appropriate to him as the ugly attack he will surely tweet out about Angela Merkel if anybody bothers to inform him of her criticisms in Munich.

Trumpist nihilism has no agenda; it merely seeks to wreck things in the name of nasty human frailties like grievance and resentment. The idea that only the metric of current defense budgets is relevant to assessing a country’s contributions to Europe’s collective security is as absurd as it is dangerous. However, this is the gist of US policy, which Pence made clear yet again to the incredulously hostile audience in Munich.

Aside from mindless MAGA deplorables, full throated support of this approach in Europe can only be found toward the Ural Mountains. Trump may be a wretched misanthrope, certain most all are his enemy, but he’s the best friend the Kremlin ever had. What happened in Munich this week clarifies Europe is adjusting to that reality with increasing haste. Putin couldn’t be happier. BC

It would be difficult to find a more stellar resume within the US national security community than that of Rolf Mowatt-Larssen. A US Army veteran and 23-year CIA stalwart, Mowatt-Larssen is a sort of Forrest Gump with regard to some of this country’s most critical intelligence operations since 9/11. Present at the creation of America’s response to the fall of the Twin Towers, Mowatt-Larssen personifies the non-partisan prototype of a career spy, focused on results, not politics.

Now a fellow at Harvard, Mowatt-Larssen surely owns culpability for the ugly overreach Dick Cheney’s 1% Doctrine necessitated. Indeed, he had a hand in the foundations of black site torture and wholesale round ups of innocents in the wrong place at the wrong time. Yet and still, nobody can question Mowatt-Larssen’s bona fides as a top intelligence professional and patriot. In fact, his mantle is resplendent with a wide array of prestigious national service awards, and his insights are much in demand within academic circles, his expertise unquestioned. When it comes to espionage, the career spy has keenly developed senses…. and these days he smells fire.

Mowatt-Larssen knows a sap ripe for compromise by Russian Intelligence when he sees one. To the trained eye it’s like a drunk stumbling through a crowd, hard to miss. Back in June, while clear he was making no specific claims, the former CIA operative pegged our President as a classic example of an individual the Kremlin would seek to groom as an asset. Trump checked off all the boxes, practically announcing his vulnerability. Persona non grata in America for the worst of business practices, most notably a despicable habit of stiffing vendors and creditors, Trump was busy blowing close to half a billion dollars of his father’s money entering the 90s. Notorious for bad faith and no integrity, Trump walked away from one costly failure after another. Add to this recipe for utter calamity a billionaire’s lifestyle, and the smell of desperation for any influx of liquidity would be hard to miss.

Over the years Putin has harnessed Russia’s oligarchy to create a potent one-two punch for espionage. Start with a robust state intelligence service anchored by Soviet holdovers, who honed their craft during the Cold War, add a fleet of kleptocratic Putin cronies, enriched from the state of nature Russia became in the chaos of communism’s fall, and the result is a formidable extra-governmental outreach in service of geopolitical objectives. It’s clear to any lucid analyst that, after coming within a whisker of total ruin in the early 90s, Trump stumbled into Russian crosshairs while canvassing European lenders for liquidity Americans no longer would extend. Sketchy Duetche Bank connections pointed him toward Russian oligarchs, and while few were paying attention then to a complete jerk getting his just desserts as he frantically sought to stay afloat, it’s now the critical start of a chronology that ended up in the White House, a genuine Manchurian Candidate.

The criteria for targeting and pursuing an asset follows an established progression, according to Mowatt-Larssen. But the critical cruxt of the issue is always the same… will they turn? On this Mowatt-Larssen is succinct:

“The key questions in this tradecraft are to determine if and how the target can be turned to serve another nation’s interests, rather than the interests of their own country. Espionage is a loyalty test, in the final analysis. Better put, a litmus test for loyalty and betrayal.

In the case of considering businessman Donald Trump as a potential target, as with any high priority target, the Russians would test the waters to avoid taking any undue risks. They typically begin by initiating mutually beneficial activity to test receptiveness to a deepening relationship. In the established business circles Trump and his associates run in, it would have been logical to test interest in lining one another’s pockets for mutual gain.”

Trump’s needs were clear and easy to address. Establishing opportunities for new revenue that no longer existed in the US, it seems obvious, could get the “big fish” on the hook. Initially, this being decades ago, it is reasonable to assume Trump could serve basic needs of the kleptocrats responsible for reeling him in… such as laundering millions through various schemes the Trump Organization was willing to pursue.

Viewed against this backdrop, top dollar sales of Trump condos to Russian billionaires, and illogical Trump Organization all cash $100 million buying sprees of failing golf properties raises a host of red flags. Add to that a steadily evolving cast of peripheral characters, most notably Carter Page, Roger Stone and Paul Manafort, up to their ears in Russo-Eastern European intrigue, and the dots get easier and easier to connect. No doubt Mueller’s team is doing just that, it’s painstaking and highly detailed work, which explains why the investigation still hasn’t wrapped up. For his part Mowatt-Larssen, though careful not to get out ahead of the facts, makes clear the numbers add up. There is nothing farfetched about the notion Donald Trump is a Russian asset. Let that sink in.

On the same day Trump falsely exclaimed on Twitter the Senate Intelligence Committee has declared him innocent of collusion, a federal judge was making former Trump campaign chairman Paul Manafort’s gloomy future darker still . Manafort had breached his cooperation agreement with prosecutors, the judge found, lying about his dealings with Russian agent Konstantin Kilimnik. Already facing a significant sentence even with full government good will, Manafort is now looking at serious hard time. Even so, it seems something else has him more scared than the rest of his life in federal prison. Moscow doesn’t play. So his last hope would be a pardon from the big grouper, himself. But that’s crazy…. right?! Nothing could be more incriminating; it would be the act of one just as desperate as Manafort. Don’t be too hasty ruling it out. Optics don’t mean much to wretched men. BC

The DR has vigilantly watched Presidential State of the Union addresses for almost 50 years. Lively support by a particular President’s partisans is not unusual, and sometimes, for example senior Bush’s SOTU following the end of the first Gulf War, the ardor is bipartisan. Yet it is fair to call GOP frat boy hooting last Tuesday shockingly servile, mindless support of a leader disinterested in any agenda past the constant chaos his daily outrages initiate. No subject – with the exception of a particularly idiotic declaration that, were he not elected, we’d be at war with North Korea – was off limits. Even supposed conservative taboos like tariffs and deficit spending, not to mention negotiating with the Taliban, were applauded. Indeed, by the end of Trump’s Capitol Hill recitation, it was fully established, if any doubt remained and well beyond further debate… the GOP is the Donald’s party, completely at his beckon call.

Coming into the speech it was even odds the night would turn absurd. After fiascos in London, Brussels and Helsinki, as well as a plethora of unhinged press conferences and countless rally meltdowns, Trump had eroded confidence in his fidelity to reasonable decorum. Nobody could assure he wouldn’t make a mockery of the proceedings by going off script and airing his visceral resentment before the nation and the world. When a gilded version of Lonesome Rhodes is POTUS, all bets on propriety are off! That keeping to his TelePrompTer and not going shock and awe, whine and degrade, translated to high approval numbers, speaks more to impossibly low expectations months of erratic behavior creates than any triumph of oratory.

Of course, anybody with delusions the address represented a new spirit of reconciliation from the White House, as its final passages professed, was quickly slapped back to their senses by the President’s ensuing tweet storms on everything from “witch hunt” madness to Democrat fondness for drugs and MS 13 to his ugly recognition of “Pocahontas” declaring to run for President in 2020. Nothing Trump says can be relied on whatever the venue.

Either way, the GOP made clear this is their guy, executive time and all. Fear of the base’s 87% apparently carries the day over the nation’s paltry 37% and solidifies loyalty to a patron unlikely to return the favor. What appeared as at least a whiff of reality check after the disasterous government shutdown once again smells of la la land, with McConnell begging the Donald not to go the national emergency route, but at the mercy of Pelosi and Co., who aren’t going to provide anything close to what will satisfy Limbaugh, Coulter et al. It’s useful to remember Trump is as much a product of Fox/AM as his wretched core it created. It’s wall or fall because they say so…. not him. Trump’s simply doing what he does, dancing as fast as he can, terrified of a reckoning.

It would be wonderful if we only had to worry about another government shutdown. However, that’s simply one of a host of self-inflicted maladies Trump has foisted on a nation beleaguered by his minute-by-minute grievance toward whoever or whatever threatens his narcissistic sensibilities. Departing pretend Attorney General Matthew Whitaker’s testimony before Congress provided House Republicans another opportunity to demonstrate how much of Trump’s water they are willing to carry. Six months ago Devin Nunes seemed on the cutting edge of Trumpist subservience. Now, judging from GOP ranking member Douglas Collins’ (GA) historonics Friday, shamelessly equating Congress’ oversight role with a lust for “publicity stunts” and “character assassinations,” it’s no longer outlier but norm. Listening to Collins hold forth about “fishing expeditions” he was enthusiastic to join as recently as last October, it’s hard to envision anything Mueller’s team may uncover that will modify unified GOP coddling of the President.

Worse, word out of the White House is morale has never been lower, and virtually all of Trump’s senior staff, including Chief-of-Staff Mick Mulvaney, Economic Advisor Larry Kudlow and even yes-man Secretary of State Mike Pompeo are looking for the exits. It’s becoming increasingly clear nobody of stature and/or any hint of competence wants to work in this Administration, an unprecedented crisis. This West Wing offers nothing but the certainty of high lawyer fees and backstabbing; that’s not going to change no matter how hard the GOP cheers Trump on. You can’t fake until you make a Presidency; and this regime is simply a lit fuse fizzling toward disaster, pretenders without a clue, led by a fool with itchy little Twitter fingers. Common sense dictates this puts us all in grave danger. Moreover, despite a change in House leadership, Tuesday night clarified the cavalry has not yet reached any visible horizon.

Watching wild-eyed chest thumping last Tuesday evening about never giving in to the scourge of socialism, one was struck by how caught up in the moment GOP members seemed. They were like a football team, amped on stimulants and a pre-game pep talk. It was merely a rally by any other name, us against them.

All in with Trump means never planning to say your sorry, and they surely never will. In other words, doing the right thing is no longer an option, case closed. It doesn’t matter what Mueller discovers. The narrative is infallible and will not be abandoned; facts or the national interest are now ancillary, it’s about Trump and his preservation, come what may. There are no Howard Bakers in this crowd.

Trump is as lame as any duck that ever waddled down Pennsylvania Avenue. Right now he’s reduced to again threatening to shut down the US government over funding of a wall conjured up for no other purpose than to feed a storyline his wretched core, and now a fully beholden Republican Party, place above all else. A manufactured crisis with no solution possible, held out as a panacea worth oblivion to achieve. Past that nonsense Trump offers no vision or plan of any account, and Mueller’s team awaits, along with plenty of House Conmittees. Staying in power is now all that counts, and reaching across the aisle to solve real problems, or hold a corrupt Administration accountable, is the last prescription this bunch aims to fill.

It’s worth 20 minutes of one’s life to watch former Speaker of the House John Boehner recently discuss the futility of leading the House GOP in any constructive direction. His conclusions, though several years too late to do any good, are accurate… the notion Fox/AM is a tool of the GOP is ass backwards… Fox and Friends now calls the shots! Understanding that fact makes “support Trump or bust” inevitable. Those hoots and hollers last Tuesday were first and foremost directed back home, a chorus of nihilism meant to reassure nihilists, who still somehow hold our nation hostage. BC

When I was a teenager skateboarding was everything to me. Even after I spent several months in the hospital recuperating from getting hit head-on by a car, the result of foolishly crossing its path after disengaging from holding on to the back bumper of another vehicle, I rose and slept thinking about becoming a better skater. This was the late 70s, and of course we didn’t know it then, but the East Coast Toke Team, as we dubbed ourselves, was pioneering a culture that would evolve and prove its durability. At the time we all simply felt ourselves on the outside looking in, alienated from the norms of the high school experience, stoned most of our day and disinterested in joining much of anything. But man could we skate. Downhill gave way to banks, which then evolved to vertical; and once we discovered that, actually skating straight up walls on ramps and empty swimming pools, nothing was the same. We were obsessed.

Yet and still, fact is, I was cursed from the beginning by my own physique when it came to skating. Tall and getting taller, my size 15s hogged the 30” board, taking longer than my peers to establish the right position when shifting from move to move. Worse, I was the anti-gymnast, which meant I was wholly ill-suited to many of the contortions necessary to take my game to the next level; I simply wasn’t built for it. Finally, my lanky frame and big feet made running out mistakes far more challenging, and that meant meeting unforgiving pavement more often. Many was the night I tossed and turned, vividly reminded of the day’s miscalculations… a sprained wrist here, scarred thigh there. Having already paid a lifetime’s worth of dues recently, I developed a dread for falling which would do much to inhibit the progress only hard knocks could secure.

All of these limitations would conspire to create a moment of truth a couple of years later. We were skating yet another hastily constructed half pipe, this one located in the Annandale VA woods, when I realized it was no use, I wasn’t going to be able to keep up. What was fast becoming the bare minimum in terms of an acceptable quiver of tricks I didn’t have and wasn’t willing to donate the skin necessary to get. The summer before I had been introduced to surfing, which fully complemented my love of the ocean and only had drowning as a hazard to be avoided; I could live with that. Right then and there I checked out from skateboarding. Though I would skate intermittently through the next decade, and astound new friends with abilities they couldn’t imagine a 6’6” 200 pounder possessed, that was it for an obsession that once defined me.

The East Coast Toke Team went on to attain a cult following and legendary status within the East Coast skating scene. They became ruling locals at the Cedar Crest Country Club ramp, perhaps the East Coast’s most famous skate spot, and while we grew apart, my roots are with them, which I believe they appreciate. I was there at the start… usually that’s enough. I am certain each of my buddies, who allowed their passion for pools, ramps, anything skatable, to resist the responsibilities of adulthood for an extra decade, harbor some regret for doing so. How much more prosperous and comfortable they would now be had they, like me, headed off to college and turned the page, is something each may ponder… or not. Who’s to say but them. Yet and still, passion has its own price tag. The injuries I refused to endure they absorbed well after the luxury youth provides to recovery. We had a reunion now near ten years ago and the toll was evident to any eyes that noticed. Additional years will do nothing but enhance cumulative suffering.

All of which brings me to my hero, Dan Heyman. He was a year younger than our core membership, actually the little brother of an acquaintance. One day he just started hanging out and that was that. From the start he was ahead of the curve, always the first to attempt and perfect something new. Willing to suffer for his progress, old pictures show him in a leg cast here or a bandaged wrist there, he nonetheless most always appeared effortless and developed his own style, that while mimicking West Coast idols, contained more than its share of his own originality. There was never a doubt Dan was imprisoned by his talent, and would take his place in the evolving 80s DC-area skate scene as far as it would lead him. Why not?

Now he is 55 plus and still doing it! Which makes him more than extraordinary. Of course it no longer determines his life; he is happily married and works for a living. But he can often be found in an empty pool doing what he did 40 years ago, a bit more carefully, but with no less intensity. I am not at all surprised by this, but it’s incomprehensible nonetheless. Skating concrete pools in one’s late 50s really has no valid point of reference. I suppose playing Rugby gets close, but that’s still done on soft grass, immeasurably more forgiving than cold concrete. To watch Dan Heyman take his stoic turn among a gaggle of shredders, some now young enough to be his grandkids, defines what life is supposed to be about. Bucket lists are for those unsatisfied with what they are doing; Dan doesn’t seem to have such concerns. Why would he? He’s Peter Pan, still employing the gift god gave him without apology; and he still has the courage to pay the price it demands, with a body ever mindful of decades worth of previous insults. He never was much for exhuberance, but his determination not to abide time’s dictatorial outreach, implies boundless passion and commitment most of us can’t even imagine.

Dan and his wonderful wife Kim recently purchased a beach flat in downtown Ocean City, MD, within throwing distance of the town’s skatepark. The idea of spending retirement snaking runs on the park’s halfpipe in the morning and hitting the beach or links by afternoon strikes me as utopian and blows me away in its utter manifest destiny. I want nothing more than to hang out and watch him do it…. and I’ve told him so. But I’m sure to Dan it’s simply a no-brainer… what else would he do? This is what living life out loud looks like. BC

Traditionally, the State of the Union address is one of the world’s most boring spectacles. A POTUS strides confidently down the aisle, after being announced with much fanfare, and shakes a lot of hands, mostly his Congressional acolytes. He then ambles to the podium for what most always amounts to a mind-numbing recitation of his administration’s accomplishments, followed by an even more excruciating laundry list of planned initiatives, all of which sound far more ambitious than how they will actually play out. As if the exercise isn’t close enough to watching paint dry on its own, add to it continued interruptions of manufactured applause, as Democrat and Republican lawmakers take turns clapping for what they feel needs punctuation. By the end all eyes are glazed and everyone is glad a full year will pass until such tedium will be experienced again.

However, there is a method to this dullness. By breaking down the previous year, and anticipating the next one, into neat and predictable pieces of ordered oratory, US governance is given a sense of routine structure, a predictability. We the people can remain confident that the continuum of America’s enduring brand of pluralism is safe moving forward. And say what you will of the enterprise, Winston Churchill probably did it best when he quipped liberal democracy was the worst system he could think of…. except for all the rest of them. Indeed, put in perspective, an evening of run on drudgery seems a small price to pay for a process that underpins relative freedom and cooperation.

Things may go a good bit differently this year.

Tonight the American President lumbers into the House Chamber truly certain of only one thing: most of the electorate strongly disapproves of, not only his job performance, but him as a fellow human being. He also knows that the shrinking minority of his strongest supporters expect him to shake up most any traditional accoutrement of his office; they are a bloc of Joe Wilsons, who appear to be all this President can rely on lately.

Trump’s growing disdain for sticking to simply delivering what his decidedly subpar speechwriting team provides has been clear to anyone paying attention since the last State of the Union. At campaign rallies, and formal events alike, the President has taken increasing comfort in, not just wandering from a provided script, but lurching completely out-of-bounds, enthusiastically adlibbing with his own set of facts and anecdotes. Tonight may be no different. Why would it be?

Of course inviting Trump to highlight his achievements is like asking Rodney Dangerfeld to mention those who dissed him. After all, this is the guy who said recently he is responsible for the safest year in the history of US air travel… there hasn’t been a commercial air crash in this country since 2009. And he’s the same story teller who lauded the Dow reaching 25K the other day… trouble is it had done the same last year and was just getting back to that figure after months of investor hell, mostly precipitated from White House chaos. It’s a sure bet he’ll boast about our European allies now paying more of their fair share for defense, the result of his steadfast refusal to play the hapless sucker anymore. That the world witnessed something altogether different during last year’s ugly shame in Brussels will, of course, form the unfortunate subtext for his self-congratulations. And one can bet their 401K Trump will hail our new environmental realism with no mention of last year’s increase in hydrocarbon expulsion, feared by many another nail in planet Earth’s coffin.

Yet and still, as surreal and delusional as the President’s triumphs are sure to sound, his list of demands moving forward is what should really worry those in favor of democratic stability. This President now banks on the worst iterations of nativism to butter his political toast. And with Mueller closing in, and his own son almost surely facing indictment, the hints from the White House of Trump calling for the nation to “unite behind” him may very well transcribe into shrieks about duct-taped women in trunks and deep state conspiracies favoring Hillary Clinton.

Trump just proved fully capable of the worst type of governmental sabotage and surely will spend much of tonight justifying and deflecting blame for the shutdown he created. It’s doubtful Stephen Miller is capable of verse sufficient to Trump’s chaotic mindset for getting those points across. Thus, he will feel compelled to punctuate on the fly. Buckle up. Moreover, regardless of how much his lawyers beg him not to publicly air his cascading legal circumstances, would anyone be surprised if Trump doesn’t use a national address to take his “witch hunt” tweets to the next level?

The record provides nothing positive as to what Trump is capable of spewing once he veers off the rails. All indications are tonight we may see his worst, which his wretched core no doubt will applaud. This is a President fully indebted to a constituency informed in total by a 24/7 multimedia platform of provocateurs, who subjugate all responsibility for truth to an endless stream of shock and outrage. Speeches meant to assuage and find common ground are equated to buckling at the feet of “establishment’ enemies. It’s doubtful Trump wants to disappoint the likes of Rush and Mark Levin.

No enemy of America could ask for more than an elected President convinced his political survival, indeed personal freedom, necessitates continuous attacks on institutions most responsible for protecting against that opponent’s incursions on the nation’s security. Even better would be a bloc of supporters capable of forcing one of the country’s major political parties to equate their parochial political fortunes with allowing that leader to do his worst at dividing fellow countrymen, naked incompetence and corruption taking a backseat to the visceral bigotry and resentment he voices like none before him. Tonight we will see how willing Trump is to clarify before the world this daily double of ruination. I wouldn’t bet against him. BC