The fact that half the country thinks it's good to drive the bus off the cliff isn't relevent.
The fact that they don't think it will kill them isn't relevant.
The fact that some of them are licensed bus drivers isn't relevant.
What IS important is we mustn't let them do that.
The fact that they think that we want to destroy the bus by refusing to drive off the cliff really doesn't matter, beyond the fact that it tells us they are disconnected from basic reality.
If they do that, they will die. And so will we.
They think only we will die.
What we're doing right now isn't "increasing the divide" or "closing our minds" or "refusing compromise."
What we're trying to do is save all our lives from people who are trying to commit mass suicide.
We'll save them, too; there's just the one bus.
We have to grab the wheel.
We have to grab the wheel, by any means necessary.
There's only one party that's trying to drive us off the cliff. Their rationales for wanting to do that aren't relevant. They just aren't.
Reality exists. There's no negotiating with gravity; no compromise with the ground.
I understand the desire to not take drastic action. Usually seizing control of the bus from the driver is a sign something has gone terribly wrong.
But many things have already gone terribly wrong. We have a driver trying to kill us all.
"Business as usual" is not our friend.
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No one ever dreamed of challenging Ralph. It seemed impossible; he himself was nowhere, but he had eyes and ears everywhere.
He paid informants handsomely—and why not pay out flush?
Ralph had amassed enough power to declare his store a vengeance-free zone and to enforce this edict across all gangs.
In Loony Island, if you wanted to transact business and not get a machete in the neck—truly, if you wanted to transact business at all—Ralph’s General & Specific was the spot.
the marketplace of ideas has once again delivered us some real winner ideas; love to see Republicans these days having spirited civic debates on ideas like "should we count the black votes?" and "what if no elections?" and "seize government buildings and execute Democrats on TV?"
It's important to know that while some Republicans are for all these ideas, other Republicans are NOT for these ideas, and intend to cluck their tongues and shake their heads *very* firmly while allowing all these things to happen, and also quietly helping out where they can.
Also very important to remember that many of the Republicans who want to do these harmful things aren't doing it because they want to harm people, but only because they want money and feel anxious about it.
It's not that the attempt to overturn the election is stupid and incompetent and baseless and racist and (hopefully) doomed to failure.
It's that they are making the attempt a normal part of their election cycle. Just another thing those wacky Republicans do.
They'll try again.
Meanwhile even a hint a a potential hypothetical perfectly legal structural changes to Senate rules, like right-sizing the courts, gets scrutinized by the media as if it were the Saturday Night Massacre.
The norms are: Democrats obey rules, Republicans break them.
They're just attacking democracy now. It's absolutely unacceptable, except sure enough everybody just goes on accepting it.
Struck by a sudden fancy, Landrude decides to pause at the apex of the Knoxville greenway; he’ll enjoy his cigar and then sketch this gorgeous forest island he’s only today noticing, though he must have passed it a hundred times.
The cigar’s a weekly treat and an old habit. So’s the ticket. The cigar’s a matter of taste; the ticket’s a reminder of the times when the prize would have been all the money in the world, and the five-dollar price an extravagance
This week’s selection is a green-foil shiny thing with a blackjack theme, purchased at a gas station along the way, but Landrude’s only rubbed away one disc when he feels the creative urge and knows he’d rather be sketching the island.
High-end merchandise, highly technical thefts, no tracks left, no evidence created. In quick, out quick. The occasional picking of a particular prosperous pocket.
The job at the cannery keeps the authorities from sniffing out the secret job, while the secret job keeps him flush.
But his third occupation keeps him sane, sets him apart.
Occupation number three is writer
Yes, the litterateur of Loony Island, the keeper of its flame, the immortalizer of its story, air father, the artistic sheen of the word made real in the flesh of the cranium, ah! It’s occupation number three he lives for. It’s his inner glory. It’s his secret strength.
We aren't witnessing a failed coup. We are witnessing a successful coup that has momentarily lost its grip on the presidency, and which clearly intends to use extra-legal means to try to get it back, and to negate it for however long it doesn't have it.