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.
"What you need to understand about me," said The Strangler, tightening his grip, "is that I'm killing you for an *economic* reason. Calling me 'The Strangler' is just increasing the sort of resentment that got you strangled in the first place."
"You need to stop struggling and fighting so much," the Strangler murmured, "and understand my motivations, so we can work together on solutions."
"Acckkkkkkk" said The Strangler's victim.
"Hmm," said The Strangler, "you really need to do better at convincing me."
"Glllllkkkk," said The Strangler's victim.
"That's all very well and good in a *perfect* world," said The Strangler. "But we don't live in a perfect world. You're not taking human nature into account. Stranglings are going to happen."
"nnnnngk," said The Strangler's victim.
"But how will you PAY for that?" the Strangler chuckled, strangling away, strangling away.
"Both sides are fighting," said the pundit, from the armchair.
"We sure ARE!" said The Strangler. "Good point!"
"It's hard to imagine anything more disturbing and violent than this strangling," said The Strangler's partner.
"Get his wallet," snapped The Strangler.
"Okee doke," said The Strangler's partner, obeying.
"The Strangler's partner offered a sharp rebuke," observed the pundit.
"If we stop the Strangler from strangling people," the pundit remarked, "We become as bad as the Strangler himself."
"How true," said another man in the room, one of a large crowd.
"I would simply have not put myself in a position to be strangled," said another.
"If we stop the Strangler from strangling people," the pundit remarked, "that would be very unfair to all the people he's already strangled."
"And their families!" the man in the room said.
"My father got strangled," said another. "And I turned out fine."
"I've got the wallet, boss," the Strangler's partner said.
"Bless your brave statement a minute ago, in favor of civility," said the pundit.
"I'm going to write a book about civility!" the Strangler's partner said.
"I will give it a glowing review!" cried the pundit.
"You are still strangling that man," came a voice from the back of the room. "You're taking his life."
"That is the most divisive thing I've ever heard," The Strangler huffed. "ALL lives matter."
"Join me on my show this Sunday," said the pundit, "when my topic is strangling and the politics of divisiveness practiced by a growing anti-strangling crowd whose rhetoric of fighting strangulation has suburban voters nervous. My guest will be three Stranglers and nobody else."
"The real problem is not the stranglings," said The Strangler. "What concerns me is the violent extremists in Antistra."
"Antistra?" exclaimed the pundit. "Who are they? They sound violent and extreme."
"They are," the Strangler insisted, in a terrified hush. "They really are."
"How do you feel when people call you a 'strangler?'" the pundit asked.
"Strangling mad!" The Strangler cried.
"You feel aggrieved," the pundit said. "Demonization is no way to win you over. People should appeal to your better angels."
"They also strangle," said The Strangler.
"Being called a 'strangler' is the worst thing you can be called nowadays," said The Strangler.
"The problem with it," enjoined the pundit, "is that it just shuts down conversation."
"Exactly!" said The Strangler. "It's reverse strangulation—the worst kind of strangulation."
"If somebody calls you a 'strangler' it's all over for you," the Strangler complained.
"It's a very scary time to strangle," the pundit intoned.
"VERY scary!" said the Strangler. "You can't say ANYTHING."
"nnkk" said the Strangler's victim.
"Shut up, you!" the Strangler said.
"What's the worst part about being called 'strangler?'" the pundit asked.
"It's so reductive," said The Strangler. "They write me off by calling me a name. I love my family and my friends and I'm a very nice person."
"You've certainly never strangled *me,*" the pundit offered.
"THANK YOU!" exclaimed The Strangler. "The truth is I haven't strangled *most* people."
"Statistically speaking, you've basically strangled nobody at all," the pundit suggested.
"YES! It's the people who call me 'strangler' who are the REAL stranglers," said The Strangler.
"Well, that's all the time we have today," said the pundit. "This has been very enlightening, and you've given us a lot to think about."
"I love to teach," said The Strangler. "Aaaaand strangle!"
"What do you want me to do with this?" The Strangler nudged his victim's body with his toe.
"Hmm?" the pundit asked.
"This one," the Strangler said. "I think it's all done."
"Oh, I never even saw her," said the Pundit. "Just put her anywhere. Anywhere at all."
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The Colonel stands center stage, awash in light, his trademark patois made incomprehensible by a huge red bullhorn.
Suddenly the air is full of lithe and spangled tumblers in blue and red and white leotards, swinging in wide loops from metal batons attached to wires so thin one can easily imagine them invisible, lending the acrobats the illusion of flight.
The tumblers barely touch the bars, swinging wild and at seeming random, catching for the briefest moment before flying out once again into the void, somersaulting and catching the next baton as if only by chance.
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.
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.
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.