CSotD: Sleeping On Duty
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An expression emerged during Watergate that it wasn’t the crime but the cover-up that doomed Nixon. It mostly came from his defenders, who envisioned a wall between the burglary at the Watergate and everything that followed, with an innocent president drawn into the cover-up of a crime he hadn’t known was happening.
Tapes and testimony showed the Boss to have been in on it from the start, and that the burglary was just one element of an ongoing process. The idea that you could carve out that one event and be left with a spotless administration was a lovely fantasy that didn’t match the facts.
But at least the Nixon administration had a “straight side,” a legitimate existence at the head of a Republican Party whose roots were deeply planted in Congress. Whatever Anthony Ulasewicz was doing running around with that coin dispenser had nothing to do with the establishment of the EPA or the other mainstream accomplishments of the time.
However, when an administration’s only policy is self-preservation, there’s no substance when the facade begins to crumble, and, as Rogers suggests, continuing to blame “Sleepy Joe Biden” doesn’t hold up when it’s the only card in the hand of a player who literally falls asleep on camera.
When Nixon’s game began to fall apart, there was a strong and functioning GOP who could, at the end, send a deputation to the White House and tell him it was time to throw in the towel. Watching Republicans on the Senate Committee wilt in dismay as the evidence built up showed the distinction between Nixon and his party.
But as Deering suggests, Trump has surrounded himself with such sycophants and place-holders that there’s no disillusionment. MTG told Lesley Stahl last night that there is no respect, only fear, and that legislators mock Dear Leader behind his back but don’t have the courage to resist him face to face.
Well, we laughed at Martha Mitchell, too, until someone realized she may have been obnoxious, but she wasn’t crazy. One thing noir detective movies get right is that tipsters aren’t supposed to become your best friends, but you should definitely listen to them anyway.
I wouldn’t invite MGT to my place for Christmas dinner, but if she’d like to meet at a bar to chat, I’d buy her a beer.
If nothing else, she could back up what we already ought to know, which is that the GOP is an empty shell and has no health plan. They’ve criticized the ACA, they’ve promised to replace it, they’d insisted that it doesn’t work, but they have never advanced a logical, workable alternative beyond “Trust us.”
If MTG and Rand Paul are willing to talk, we should be willing to listen. Little drops of water, little grains of sand. Once it starts, more will follow.
And it isn’t much harder than buying a couple of beers. The entire world watches the World Cup, making it hard for anyone anywhere to have missed the ridiculous spectacle of FIFA offering Dear Leader a silly participation trophy to stroke his ego and, as Burton portrays it, embarrassing the entire world in the process.
FIFA, the governing body of the World Cup, has long had a difficult reputation in a world in which people love the beautiful game but distrust the organization that runs things, and the tangle of bribery and corruption that has gone along with site selections doesn’t wash off easily, even if reforms are in place.
The Guardian’s coverage of the Grand Award doesn’t make an attempt at serious coverage because there’s nothing serious to be covered.
If anyone was hoping to keep Donald locked up in the attic like Mr. Rochester’s first wife, I think that plan is no longer operative. Broelman adds to the universal giggling, which means between him and Hudson, we’ve got Britain and Australia covered, and if there are any places with respect for this farce, they’re not expressing it aloud.
There isn’t all that much futbol in Canada, but sleeping with the elephant has given them a strong instinct for the absurd, and Whamond puts the FIFA Peace Award into proper perspective, both in terms of the value of the prize and the age group it appeals to.
Not all the mockery is good-natured back-and-forth. McKinnon notes, without comment, the cruel, tasteless “jokes” that Pete Hegseth has made, using fake versions of a beloved Canadian children’s series to celebrate the ruthless slaughter he has ordered in the Caribbean and the war crimes of which he is accused.
This is the uncle you don’t even invite to Thanksgiving.
The world is not impressed by a leadership that can be bought off and distracted by something as silly as the FIFA award. Slyngstad isn’t first to compare Trump to a toddler, but he drives the point home.
After all, Trump did say, in accepting it, “This is truly one of the great honors of my life,” which might inspire some pity, since it seems a flimsy high point for 79 years on the planet.
But, then again, we shouldn’t lose sight of what else he has accomplished in those 79 years, and taking a meaningless bauble from FIFA may be his least harmful achievement. Whatever he does to ticket sales by hosting a global tournament in a country people are afraid to visit is a minor blip in the economy compared to the damage of his imposing random, extortionist tariffs.
Which in turn is less damaging than two possible outcomes of the Supreme Court’s examination of the tariffs. It’s like that old football coach’s aphorism, “When you put the ball in the air, three things can happen and two of them are bad.”
In football, the possibilities are (1) competed pass, which is good, (2) incomplete pass and (3) interception, which are the two bad outcomes.
In the Supreme Court, the possibilities are (1) tariffs overturned, which would be good, (2) tariffs overturned but ruling ignored and (3) tariffs approved, either of which would be disastrous beyond the case itself.
We’ll see how SCOTUS rules on the tariffs, and on birthright citizenship, and if the populace stays awake through the upcoming Midterms.
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