Joe Biden's America

 We're six months in on this dumpster fire known as the Biden Administration, and it's going horribly, not that you'd know that if you listened to the MSM.  As always, the Left's cheerleaders can't or won't comment on the emperor's clothes, preferring instead to continue to bash Donald Trump and blame all the bad things coming out of Washington in him and his administration.  Cognitive Dissonance has reached new lows.

Biden wasn't expected to be much punkin', as Karen would say.  He'd been in politics for nearly a half century, was doddering during the campaign and spent most of the time leading up to the election in his basement, conveniently blaming Covid when anyone with a pair of eyeballs knew it was his handlers' attempts to keep him away from cameras where his next faux pas could be captured for posterity.

Aligning himself with that harridan of Blair House, Kamala Harris -- or as one wag has anointed her Cackling Pantsuit -- didn't help him much.  After being feted by the fawning MSM in the first couple of months of being Vice President, she's been derided for a series of missteps including rambling incessantly about the root causes of immigration, not giving a press conference for over two months after being put in charge of the border, not going to the border until former President Trump announced his upcoming visit and then going to the most secure part of the border that just happens to have more border all built than any other part of the southern border.

Texas has announced it will begin building its wall.  The LA Times has come out and said that the Vice President's record so far is disappointing.  The Man of Dementia, as seen here: 

attended the G-7 meeting followed by a summit, of sorts, with Vladimir Putin wherein he gave the former KGB agent a list of sixteen sites that were off limit to hacking...thereby suggesting, by omission, that anything not on the list wouldn't disturb us and shouldn't cause the Russian government to crack down on private Russian hackers.  China is emboldened by the weakness of the Man of Dementia, refusing to allow anyone to learn the truth of what happened in Wuhan.  Hunter Biden, the dissolute son of the POTUS, continues to sully the family name, selling his artwork to sycophants for upwards of $500,000 while paying $25,000 for a Russian prostitute.  Biden's younger sister has now been given a book deal, while patronage runs rampant in the White House.

Nothing to see here, folks.  

Meanwhile, Joe Sixpack is faced with onset inflation, gas prices that are now over $4 and even $5 in some places, while at the same time being paid to stay home by pork barrel legislation that insists that people get tax money not to work.  The much-needed infrastructure bill has now become one of the largest excesses in congressional spending, with Orwellian rhetoric stretching the meaning of infrastructure from roads, bridges and buildings to include so-called human infrastructure, or day care, teacher raises and other nonsense that's already been provided for in the earlier stimulus packages.  All the while, the Man of Dementia insists that taxes on anyone earning less than $400,000 will not be increased.  Just how in the hell does he expect to pay for this?

So now, the countdown clock on the ascension of Cackling Pantsuit to the presidency begins in earnest.  Some squares sold for six months, but that was never going to happen.  Two years was the more popular choice, but now it looks as if the lesser of two evils must be debated:  Will it be the Man of Dementia for the full four years, or does Cackling Pantsuit get a two-year trial run?

Either way, the country is screwed.

Republicans are licking their chops at both the midterms and the 2024 general election.  From all indications they'll win in both elections.

They'd better not screw it up.  From all indications, they'll have a lot of work to do.

(c) 2021 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles

Enervating Phrases

Ever since I was a wee lad in parochial school, when the nuns would speak to each other in either Polish or some other foreign tongue to keep us students in the dark, language has fascinated me.  I have actually read books by William Safire, Edwin Newman and William Buckley on the use of the English language.  Despot though he was, I admire Churchill's facile yet complex use of the English language.  Perhaps that's why I learned to speak Spanish and want to learn to speak Irish and Arabic, although the latter two are unlikely to ever come out of my mount intelligibly.

Be all that as it may, it also explains why some things irk me irrationally.  I'm not talking just about those verbal miscues as axing questions, going to Warshington or seeing something that is heart-wrenching.  I'm talking about things people say that are just so jarring to my ears -- even if they're perfectly acceptable to others' ears -- that I scoff when I hear them.  More often than not, my objections center around verbal indolence -- people just fall back on these things either because they've heard them so often they think it's hip to repeat them or they can't figure out the correct way or a different way to say something similar.  To that end....

To Your Point:  This comes out a lot on talk shows.  I first heard it ad nauseum when I listened to Mike & Mike, then The Five.  When someone says something with which the next speaker agrees, that speaker says, To your point....Why not just say:  I agree with what you're saying, or, To add to what you just said...?  Instead, it's fashionable now to say To your/X's point....Egads, be original or learn how to use other parts of the language.

Journey/Chemistry/Connection:  This is always mentioned at some point when couples -- usually celebrities or those in the public eye -- mention their love affairs.  It's either a discussion about how lucky the person is to have the other person along on their shared journey, or what great chemistry or a  wonderful connection they had from the minute the laid eyes on one another.  How hackneyed.  Just find another way to say that the person bowled you over with her beauty, or how the person's personality shone through above every one else's.  These nebulous terms are meant to sound sophisticated when all they really do is show that the person is lazy and can't find ways to adequately describe the person whom she loves above all others.  And this isn't gender-specific; both genders are equally indolent.

I Married My Best Friend:  Great.  I get it:  You like each other.  I've got best friends, and they I have the love of my life.  My sin par.  Best Friends are not Lovers.  Or at least they shouldn't be.  They should be more.  They should be above everyone else on the planet:  Friends, family, strangers, presidents, prelates -- you name it.  

Soulmate:  This one tickles me.  On these foppish shows like 90 Day Fiance, where contrived situations put two people together on the fast-track to marriage, the contestants -- because that's what they really are -- wax loving about their opposites as being their soulmates.  In one hilarious instance, a Frenchwoman who was horribly treated by her American paramour to whom she'd referred as her soulmate broke up with him after his less than gentlemanly ways and then resurfaced a few months later with a new (and decidedly uglier; although the first one wasn't gracing the cover of GQ any time soon) American fiance whom she readily introduced as her soulmate.  We all make mistakes.  Any one who's been divorced will attest to that.  But this all-too-ready leap to soulmatehood is a little unsettling.

You're the Man/In the hole:  This is pure golf.  I've tried to play golf.  As I tell anyone who asks me that as far as golf goes I'm a heck of a first baseman.  Still, I enjoy watching the Ryder Cup and the Masters at Augusta (the course more than the golf).  But when these wannabe Jack Nicklauses start screaming either of these after the golfer strikes the ball it sounds so...pretentious.  The person speaking is trying to elevate himself into the golfer's level, to which he decidedly does not belong, but it's of no consequence.  And doing this in public does what, exactly?  It's like a bunch of drunk frat boys who grew up and remained drunk frat men.

That's What I'm Talking About:  This has come to replace I like this/that.  Someone will be shown something or will simply see something and utter this tired, overused phrase as if they had been talking about whatever it was right before it was shown.  I've never understood whether this is meant to sound hip or self-important.  Either way, it's kind of douchey.

We're Pregnant:  Um, no you aren't.  Unless there's an umbilical cord connecting both parents somehow, with half the baby in one parent and half the baby in the other, only the woman is pregnant.  And if both parents are pregnant, doesn't that mean the father gets a say as to whether to abort the fetus?  You can't have it both ways.

Fish On:  This is the pescatorial equivalent to You're the Man/In the Hole.  Casual fishermen, emboldened by any number of fishing shows on TV, will shout this when they hook a fish.  Whatever happened to I got one!  And what exactly is the fish on (I know, I know).  Unless I make my living fishing, I would avoid this one.  It's douchey.

Woke:  I know what it's mean, but isn't Woke a verb?  When did it become an adjective?  

Just:  This is a pet peeve, and it's really wrong of me.  The next time a layman gives a prayer in church, count the number of Justs that are included in the prayer.  Then listen to the pastor pray and count the same.  The disparity is huge.

Just sayin'.

(c) 2021 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles