At the outset let me state that, on balance, my Friday night, July 22, sucked. It started off well enough but soon went down hill.
To start with, the first game of the unofficial MLB second half was starting at Fenway. After having completed a road trip by being mercilessly mugged in the Bronx, Friday night was when our hometown heroes would start to reclaim parts of their shattered self-respect.
By the end of the third inning the score was 10 to zero. By the end of five it was 25-3. The Sox had the three. From the standpoint of Red Sox Nation, there were low lights galore. Although there are so many to choose from, two in particular stand out: the inside the park grand slam and the run producing pop up in front of the plate.
The guy who hit the Grand Slam was filling in for a regular starter. He hit the ball on a high arc toward centerfield and subsequently admitted that he thought the ball would be caught by the outfielder. With the bases loaded, the hitter started his perfunctory jog up the first base line, disappointed that he couldn’t drive in at least one run.
Then something happened. The outfielder lost the ball in the lights! Unfortunately for the Sox, the batter saw the ball sail over the fielder’s head and began running like hell around the bases. The outfielders’ reaction was like a Benny Hill skit, complete with musical score - the center fielder stood still looking bewildered while the left fielder ran over the retrieve the ball and tried to throw the batter, now rounding third, out at the plate.
No such luck. The batter scored, it was an inside the park grand slam home run. As bad as that was, and let’s be honest - it was pretty bad - it wasn’t the worst play of the night.
To my mind the worst play occurred after the inside the park home run. In the…it doesn’t matter which inning…with runners on first and second and two outs, the Toronto hitter popped up a pitch no more than fifteen feet in front of home plate. But it was just high enough for our pitcher, catcher, and all-star third baseman to converge in the area where the ball would land.
No doubt unintentionally configured in an isosceles triangle formation, they stood looking at the ball, looking at each other, then again looking up at the ball when it dropped in the middle of the triangle. The runner on second started running at the crack of the bat and rounded third on his way to home plate. The fielders, who paid no attention to the runner as they seemingly were mesmerized by the precise drop of the ball in the ad hoc triangle they formed, didn’t see the runner until he was midway between third and home. The pitcher lunged for the ball to throw it to home plate but nobody, save the umpire, was at home to apply the tag. The catcher was still 15 feet in front of the plate.
Re-cue the Benny Hill soundtrack as the runner scores and you’ll have a complete appreciation of the absurdity of this play.
Traumatized as I was, and with a balky back that keeps me awake at night, I decided to look for something interesting on television. Updating Bruce Springsteen, there were approximately 200 cable stations with nothing, or at least nothing interesting, on. Then, and I blame my traumatized state of mind, I remembered that Donald Trump was having a rally in Arizona Friday evening.
Now a Trump rally, or a Trump anything for that matter, is interesting in the same way that a 40 car pileup on the highway is interesting. So I perused the usual channels like Fox and Newsmax but they were broadcasting their (ir)regular shows. But then I thought, what about OAN? Surely they would be televising the rally and as it turned I was right.
For an hour and a half, and I again blame my traumatized mind, I watched this ridiculous display of ego and adoration. To the uninitiated it might appear that something important was going on. To those who are initiated, or perhaps more to the point inoculated, it was SS/DD (I’ll leave it to you to decode this).
Let’s start with the obvious: not much has changed over the years. In other words, if you’ve seen one Trump rally, and that might be one too many, then you’ve seen them all. The grievances are still the same, his grievances, not his audience’s. Trump doesn’t give a rip about his supporters’ problems. There were the usual claims to achievements of the Trump administration, such as the “big, beautiful wall.” There were the usual claims of carnage in America, such as the increase in “illegals” crossing our porous borders.
I’ll bet nobody thought to ask themselves this question: if the big, beautiful wall was so effective, how is it we still have porous borders? Details? Trump voters don’t need no stinkin’ details!
Then there were the usual outright lies (“I won two elections”) and his claims of persecution (“I was investigated for a perfect phone call”). There were references to the unfair ”(un)Select Committee“ investigating the January 6, 2021 siege of the Capital building. There were the, by now, seemingly gratuitous attacks on RINOs such as Governors Ducey (Arizona) and Kemp (Georgia) along with attacks on local officials such as Arizona Speaker of the House Rusty Bowers who testified before the (un)Select Committee.
He called local candidates, such as Kerri Lake, his anointed candidate for the Republican nomination for Governor of Arizona, up to the podium. He also called some guy running against incumbent senator Mark Kelly, and the guy challenging House Speaker Rusty Bowers. Bowers’ sin was that he testified before the (UN)Select Committee and the nation. Trump waved and pointed at a few local government and party officials who no doubt looked euphoric
to be bathed in the light of Trump’s acknowledgement.
Lake, for one, was permitted to say a few words before the assembled MAGA folks, very few as it turned out. Couldn’t stay too long lest she eclipse the sun that is Trump.
Indeed, it was difficult to determine who was more pathetic, the egocentric narcissistic (and may I add incompetent and criminal) former president, or those toadies who craved his affections?
In short, it was like a Stones concert where they primarily play their hits. Occasionally they drop an original song but that gets lost with the opening riffs of Jumping Jack Flash. You go to hear Keith take some guitar riffs and see Mick dance, prance and do his rooster walk on the stage. (If a vomit inducing image of Trump - no jacket, shirt unbuttoned to his waist, tight pants - doing Jagger overwhelms you, you’re not alone.)
But this rally was no Stones concert. The closest I can come to analogizing this rally is to a George Wallace rally in 1968. A few of us McCarthy supporters, throwing caution and good sense to the wind, decided to attend. We were dressed appropriately (clean for Gene), quiet and observant, not loud or provocative.
But once we entered we placed our McCarthy buttons on the lapels of our jackets, because you gotta represent. I don’t know who it was (security?) but it was politely suggested that we put the buttons in our pockets. Save for me, we were all smart guys who recognized sensible suggestions when brought to us. And given the raucous and rabid crowd of Wallace supporters, we quietly, unobtrusively and quickly took the buttons off and placed them in our pockets where they stayed for the rest of the rally.
If anyone watched or read about Wallace in the news, they got the same stuff about “pointy headed liberals” and protesters laying in front of his car. Kind of like Trump’s “radical liberal democrats.” These guys are very much alike. Except, to torture the analogy still further, unlike a Stones concert where they have a voluminous song book to pull from, Trump (like Wallace) is like a band with one hit playing the damned thing over and over and over.
But embedded well into the rally, Trump finally came to the point (assuming there was a point) when after stating that he won two presidential elections (“by landslides”) he said “and we may have to do it again.” The crowd erupted as only MAGA can erupt, in ecstatic cheering and applause.
Let’s speak plain, there is no “may” about it. He’s running and has been running since resuming his honorific title of “King of Mar-a-Lago.” There are no doubt many reasons for him doing so, for example revenge, destruction of democracy, avoidance of criminal indictments (perhaps my last bit of legal advice, it ain’t gonna work). But one thing is certain, he places no interest in the hopes, needs and interests of his supporters. Trump only values his hopes, his needs, and his interests.
The planning for this horrific American Restoration has begun in earnest, and in some instances has been readied for execution and implementation once he seizes the throne of American democracy. Indeed, once he takes office democracy will be eroded and chipped away, leaving only the gold gilded throne upon which he seeks to sit.
Over the last few days, Axios reporter Jonathan Swan wrote a two part piece that I recommend both of which can be found here:
The threat to democracy is as serious as it has been for more than 240 years. Trump is serious about dismantling our democratic institutions and in destroying our democratic principles. In order to defend them, we have to be even more serious.
In the end, as it always has, it comes down to what we’re going to do.
And after this post, try getting some sleep. We’re going to need it!
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