Oh, Mama, don’t walk away,
I’m a goddamn sore loser,
I ain’t too proud to say
—Ray La Montaigne
The gesture, a deliberate sweep of her hand across the table, conveys her dismissal of arguments against voting for the bully. “I’m tired,” she says, “sick and tired. I want something different.”
Such sentiments are shared by many. Safe to say, voters in this election cycle are sick and tired of being sick and tired.
A neighbor says, “You feel this way, Rod?” I say I do. “So, who ya got?”
I like the guy the college kids love. He doesn’t lie, but it’s too soon for him to get anything done. The tear down has to come first.
As for the front runners, I despise them equally with the intensity I usually reserve for the New England Patriots. She, an unprincipled liar who’s spent her public career squirming out of smelly financial deals, has her followers snookered into thinking she gives a shit about them. He, a narcissistic misogynist whose calculated message of anger and fear incites the worst responses from skinheads, no-nothings, and fanatics, is the ugliest of ugly Americans. I wish them both a thousand years of living with skin rashes.
I don’t care which of them wins. Looming dead ahead is an economic tsunami which will trigger the collapse of the rotten, maggot infested national government. The sitting president will be blamed, and probably hounded out of office. Either one of them will do.
A Grand Supercycle bear market is a force for the redress of grievances. It is going to happen no matter who is in office. The outcome of the next election doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.