Episode 1147
Antidemocracy by design.
Mar 19 2020
One of the most interesting things about Trump is he actually doesn't care about the veneer of US support for democracy. We heard past presidents spend a lot of time portraying US military interventions, invasions, and wars within this rhetoric of democracy and promoting human rights and very lofty ideals that essentially masked military intervention, power grabs, attempts at extracting resources from other countries, and attempts to subjugate other countries. In some ways, I'd argue Trump has been refreshing because he doesn't bother with that rhetoric.
Twenty-two years after last joining us, we welcome back Mohamad Bazzi. He discusses his latest at the Guardian, "Trump promised no wars. Now he’s a Bush-style regime change president," and "Trump’s war in Iran marks the culmination of his imperial presidency."
"The Moment of Truth" with Jeff Dorchen follows the interview in which he, "fights to wake up from a DARVOnian nightmare."
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Mar 19 2020
Posted by Matthew Boedy
Welcome to the Moment of Truth: the thirst that is the drink.
The virus came to the lumpy orange buffoon at midnight, Eastern Daylight Savings Time. “Who are you?” asked the human insult.
“I am Covid-19.”
“Well, I’m Donald 45. The best president America has ever had.”
Then the virus got into bed behind the self-import flatulence and spooned up nice and close to his blobby carcass.
“If I don’t touch my face, you can’t hurt me,” said the chief executive idiot. “And I never ever touch my face,” he added, touching his face.
Meanwhile, all across the land, people were either coughing, or listening to someone else cough with dark foreboding. There was nowhere to escape to. Italy was closed. China too. The sandy echoes of coughing capered around among the population, like a million snakes with the legs of goats, the little goats who caper in the little goat capering videos. Echoing layers of coughs, a palimpsest of coughs, a sneeze, and coughs dancing around the sneeze, as far as the ear could hear, as far as the heart could fear.
Covid-19 hissed softly into the overbaked narcissist’s earhole: “Listen. The children of the night, making phlegmy music. Those symptoms are the offspring of your denial.”
“No they’re not,” squeaked the executive putrescence, his voice quivering like a statue sculpted from butt fat and bad cholesterol. “No denial. No denial. Denial no.”
The words “denial no” echoed away into the diseased and polluted world, folding itself in amidst the cacophony of sickness, a worm in the labyrinthine tunnel of a collective intestine. Somewhere in the darkness, Joe Biden punched a voter in the face.
Salvos of gunfire percolated across the farm belt. It was farmers, tilling their fields at night to avoid the instant melanoma sunshine brought, harrowing the fields with automatic rifles. At one point, the clown president had issued a clown presidential order banning all technology except guns, creating crises of impracticality so numerous and severe that the order had to be rescinded within five minutes of its proclamation. Such an extravagant taste of the Second Amendment, however, engendered a heady rush of patriotism in the people, and they refused to give up many of the new practices they’d instantly adopted, citing the inviolability of venerable tradition.
In the... read more