Filed under Barack Obama, Bill Whittle, Donald Trump






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Love Bill Whittle … he and Dennis Prager are fighting the good fight with their continuing series of accessible and informative videos.
Everybody’s got an opinion on Trump, nobody’s neutral, and you almost can flip a coin to predict who’s a fan or who’s a foe. Jammie Wearing Fool hates him, Gateway Pundit loves him. NRO hates him, Federalist seems to mostly endorse him. Mostly Ace demeans him, Conservative Treehouse is his biggest cheerleader. Coulter and Rush like him, Krauthammer and Will hate him. Wild.
I kind of assumed Bill would be in the “hate him” camp, so I was pleasantly surprised here. Except for the opening ninety seconds, which was too cute by half (misdirection, blow dart quip), I think this is one of Bill’s better ones. Thanks for sharing it.
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You’re welcome! I also really thought Bill would still hate him. Of course, I still have my reservations, too, but I’m coming around a little, for the same reasons as Whittle. These are head-spinning days.
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I wasn’t sure what to think about Trump until I watched George Will spew some serious venom about him, but couldn’t seem to stop there. He went on to belittle any registered Republican who wished to give Trump some time to see where he was headed. Then quickly tried to walk that back by saying…”These are the voters “We” want..” “We want all voters.” Ah..yes…the Royal We…hmmm…I decided to chalk this up for the moment to an early onset dementia…but then the GOPe machine and their “strategist” hacks started writing arrogant screeds in Politico and IJR.
My interest in Trump only began when he showed in the first debate that he was serious about using his own history (and confessions) as a giver of dollars to takers, even if teaching the great unwashed how it all works would draw major bashing from the takers. Suddenly, “that coarse and vulgar man” (G. Will’s words) started seeming perversely brilliant to me.
It reminded me of a “Dirty Jobs” (Mike Rowe) episode, where a bunch of guys took Mike out on a barge and used winches to lift enormous metal buoys onto the deck, to bash the living hell out of the thick barnacle colonies, off the bottoms from the water line down. The buoys are good, and barnacles are innocent clingers-on, but, just like with fine ships and piers, you have to periodically scrape off the thickening crud. This is not done with velvet and feather dusters…but with huge spud bars and muscle, with crude but calculated bashing strokes. “That coarse and vulgar man” with the spud bar might go back to port, wash off the crustacean scum, slicker up and put on some Old Spice, and go to the opera for all we know. The barnacles might lie there on the barge, oozing some nasty yellow stuff, but not for long. Out come the deck hands with brooms and hoses. Neptune, the God of Barnacles can be indignant and rail on, but the buoys are saved and useful again. “I’m so good at bashing barnacles…I’ve bashed more barnacles than Popeye, and I have the biceps to prove it! And you’re going to just love these clean buoys, we’re going to make all buoys great again!!” So we hand him a can of spinach and some Dr. Pepper, and watch him bash more barnacles off the ships of state, the piers in safe harbors, and the boulders around Lady Liberty. In his first book, Trump told the world that it is a good thing to be underestimated early on in negotiations. Like Columbo. Wait until the investigation is at climax, the hidden evidence is in…things just might change. Want to go back to barnacles? Not so much.
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