From my window I am able to see my neighbor’s overly large, but fading and shredding American flag flutter at half-mast, no doubt in reverence of the passage of George H. W. Bush, as it did it while ago for John McCain. She leaves it up all night and even in the rain, which I think is considered inappropriate for Old Glory. But what the hell, they hang behind Donald Trump, don’t they?
Just a day shy of one annoyingly sappy and bio graphically-bowdlerized week of eulogies for the now late President George H.W. Bush, ole “Poppy” is finally being entombed in Houston. Phew! I thought they might be able to squeeze at least another weekend out of the guy, but I forgot that he was only a one term president, so that makes for four fewer years oboe shit they had to make up about him. Appropriately, the news said this morning that Poppy was being interred to the strains of “his favorite music, Onward Christian Soldiers”. How appropriate for a guy who started a war that resulted in thousands of foreign deaths, and set in motion the historical circumstances so that his idiot son could have his own war that could result in tens of thousands of foreign deaths, all in the service of the oily investment interests of the Bush family and their friends in the Carlyle Group. However, no such information was allowed to get in the way of the smarmy eulogistic references to Poppy’s skydiving and golf game; not the more significant fact that, one or two laudable policy contributions aside, George H.W. Bush’s administration was mostly a seamless link in the downward spiral of the Republican Party from Ronald Reagan to the septic tank in which Donald Trump floats. Check this.