This Lady of Ours

If I pronounced the "notre" of "Notre Dame (de Paris, especially for Indianians)" as "ours" in the broadest human sense, I wouldn't come across too many . In a myriad of cathedrals christened as "for the lady", the mother virgin of Jesus, this one rises above the herd, the skyline, the nominal list to a position so unchallengeable that, had the façade indeed fallen five years past and - inexplicably - not been restored, it is no exaggeration or blind trust she would have kept her hold on the name still. 

Thus when, with such force and sadness and, dare I say it, and not without commemoration to the firefighters but also the lady herself, some resilience, she burned, it 

The Emperor, eleven score years later

 

At the time of his coronation, the man born (not "known", as the now famous series states) as Nabullione Buonaparte - an Italian-scented name - on just-annexed Corsica would have been called many things now though illicit, grandiose, or even admirable. At 35, he crowned - so to speak - his hitherto achievements by raising and lowering, by his own hand, the crown he reinstated quite incredibly, as if humiliating the enemies and friends of the revolution alike. 

Twenty years ago, a TV series - then, also incredulously, French - marked as the most expensive ever was released, starring Christian Clavier as the grandiose, but doomed (and decidedly diminutive) emperor, the inevitable (as far as a French production is concerned, with even Francois Cluzet blazing from his absence) Gerard Depardieu as the useful but fickle Fouché, and John Malkovich as the emblematic, enigmatic, ethereal Talleyrand (titles are useless). In this recognition of the bicentennial, the motif was clearly one more favourable than the image of the tyrannical, if doomed, Napoleon lasting as far as memories - and survivors - of the regime and its wars persisted. While recognising his ruthlessness (which was, by a turn of phrase, not his alone) it was clearly shining gold through the gloom of a Medieval, pre-modern Europe as the act of the great man took himself, and us, into a new era - destroying himself, indeed, but not so much by evil, or even corruption of the powerful by power, but rather the less significant, small-minded and vile which surrounded his genius. More recently, a biopic by the emblematic 

The one and last (?) transition

 

After weeks and weeks - and before that, years, to put in single digits - of the cry of fascism, the seeming fact of is finally . Notably, the ever-lasting promises to resign partition in the American experiment and depart the republic for the old, or otherwise other, more blessed swathes of the "new" world, has been followed by sullen sulking and return to the normalcy of generating income. Income which the coming administration, perhaps even in the minds of the critics, will be successful in collecting, with quarterly revenues and GDP growth boosted beyond those the fateful year, if we are to trust this narration, of 2024. 

Doubtlessly 2024 was a watershed, as 1824 (with its aftermath of 1828 and 1829-1837) was and as 1924 might have been, had the dangerously radical La Follette expanded his success beyond the people's republic of Wisconsin, and what follows is to be written into the history books in tones of , or at best, torpor. 

Rape, unwashed unkept hands, Russian espionage, the accusations have hardly eased since 2016, when the calls of either "old-school neocon Republican goodfella", or straight out "plutocrat" (fair enough for the progeny of Exxon Mobile) hit all the nominees, and Mike Flynn fell. 

The Once and Future president

In my previous post, one of those I have returned to the most, for the topic and relative brevity of verse and sublime grandness (as opposed to stacking adjectives and, dare I say parenthesised, dependent clauses) I presented one candidate for "best presidents" as occupant of a "full day", . And now it seems, for the first time since over 130 years, . 

The first victory of Cleveland, in spite of his opprobriable sexual morals and historic in breaking 28 years of Republican victories, is closer to the outbreak of the Seven Years' War; that is, French stake to Canada as well as Louisiana and all between, or the slobbering tyrant's victory at Fontenoy, than to this second occurrence of a two-ordinal, one-man president. And more important, certainly more remembered, will be the person of this comeback, the man of the hour (and certainly, should TIME exercise any sort of courting the public, of the year) and, at last, and for the last time, the man destined - dare I say desired - to be the future president as well as the one that once was. 

How then did we get here? How was the man touted by media, even by rather humble standards, to a treatment making earlier . First, as already implied, this may not be the case, and those who insist on exercising the narcissism of the present, I would point to opprobria-prone (a more acceptable word?) campaigns of the past, involving more closer run kisses of death, proper such's (including by a fascist-declared, decidedly authoritarian candidate for the Democratic nomination)? The "horsethief" Lincoln, certainly open to grand jury, investigation and even conviction by a virtuous Southern jury, should there have been the shadow of such a case - and, indeed, a greater sense of 

Also, and as already implied, the rejection has an attraction of its own, and has had in America. Indeed "America", the enlarged endo-exo-metonym . Add to this the authenticity 

Third, and has already been said, the cultural "plan", or tendency, of the ostensible far left, reaching its ostensible tentacles into - or rather from - the Democratic party 

Fourth, the fact that this Hitler has risen, reigned and rowed away - on time, even if after a bang very unsurreptitiously broadcasted by his very being, swagger, tone of voice, and evident narcissism (which is not necessarily unpreferrable to the covert narcissism of leaders commanding deeper charisma or wider audiences). 

Fifth, the polies, stupid. As a former, and far better equipped (and not in the department which earned him, deserved or not, the first impeachment since Johnson's setup and until Trump's first, quite . 

What then of the concerns? Some are certainly earned, and regardless of earned, very real. Others, such as the very real conviction in the documents case, are earned but only ticketed, equally real, for some and not others. While there is a sweet vengeance that poor security protocol of these narcissists flunked both Clinton and Trump, in court of opinion and of law respectively, (in this matter, I must say Mar-a-Lago seems securer than Mrs. Clinton's private e-mail server, or indeed Scranton Joe's garage).  The new, very obsequious Republican party is a fault in itself, an insult . While the primary of last spring was an insult, it was only Trump's insult, and the fault lies in the hands of the voters, where it seems destined to remain, or be rereleased for the next, by any measure exciting contest of 2028. For the Democratic (big D, it's important) there is no such guarantee to be issued, let alone believed. Mr. Carville's desire for a new pseudo-Democratic contest was good in its time, and might have earned the name spelt in small "d", but was so whittled it was almost a whisper from Hans Brask (for this story, and it's good ), and predictably rolled over. Never was the will, or desires, of an oligarchy imposing its choice over a broader electorate more firmly rebuffed, and perhaps deservedly. But do those who did not select selection over election, but who would have exercised their right (I think it is) to the latter, deserve the result, and who of the two will suffer, insofar we can talk of "suffering" rather than "sufferance". It may, and may not, be the continuing 

Comments over Those Fallen

 

Some comments on those fallen would seem a gloomy title for a poem, but there is across party lines scant reason not to see it as a struggle above victory, an accomplishment sans celebration, a triumph only of the less angelic avenues of their minds, regardless of who can claim the ostensible hold on the mythological number of 270 electors. 270 men, women and else, who will perform the actual, nigh-sacred duties of electors, in lieu of the hundreds of millions (over one yi , a limit reached in the momentous last year of last millennium, not to be outdone by the figure "billion" until another two centuries). Whether those electors will continue performing those duties is one question on the slab, to awake or be done with, at least 

My prediction of 2016, my last - so to speak - . This time, it is decidedly harder, and 

No, Iowa stays red and the two junior states are swapped, and would it not be merry if they were, appropriately after climate. "Wiscigan" must not necessarily split, although my prejudice tells me the negative fallout of certain stalwart DNC foreign policy, as well as a waltz with the governor of the sole state of Mondale (the apparent choice for a candidate herself chosen while a California senator) may favour Wisconsin. All in all, the "false landslide" seems speculative, and neither will - as John Doe did - collect all seven. Elsewise, shall Nevada prove, as in 2006, a stunning upset?

To their fans, they may be idols, but they are neither demigods or statesmen. This is the age of looming oligarchy, not a vicious single-party tyranny, and while Trump has long since made no secret of the relationship between his own ego . In this regard, however, I consider the oligarchic tendencies of the Democratic party just as alerting, if not exactly recent. Post-liberal liberalism, liberal democracy sans the demos part, .  

How, then, will he handle Chairman Xi? The Russian Vozhd, as he might as well be called? Will issues of adulation be offered, and what harsh terms will be proffered 

And how did I get here? 

The Experiment Resumed (across the aisle)

 

Donald Trump, the comeback geezer. Who would have thought, even eight or seven years ago, that he would stand at the precipice of another non-consecutive term, a feat undeniably born as much from tactless Democratic arrogance, and incompetence, as from his own inarguably magnetic, if magnetically divisive, command of charisma. If he wins, as he is - as opposed to in 2016, as well known by this author - predicted doing, he will be 

And arguably, Donald Trump is unfit for this office. I myself, though I steered clear of that specific iceberg of a phrase 

And then, on the other side of the strait, a Scylla, Ms. Harris. A woman - the fact so cherished by her superior predecessor, Mrs. Clinton, in 2016, now very selectively (and perhaps neurotically) upheld as an argument from the "diversity" crowd - of far narrower intellectual proportions, almost touching those of her predecessor. This, as the elderly ex-housekeeper familiar to the call of Carcosa said in True Detective, should frighten you, but not for the same reasons. While his front porch, or basement, or keyboard strategy, arguably understandable in 2020, was dictated by the need for a constitutional monarch, protected from result and blemish by any meaningful primary, her being put in the same position, a maid at the bow of the ship of democracy, heralds far greater horrors as far as the position and integrity of the office is concerned. Yes; I am not beyond saying these words of her as well. While it "should be enough", as has been said (perhaps not enough) of her contender . And if that is not enough, should the fact she is neck in neck to the man, Donald Trump, not the most popular (ex-)president in United States history, or even biting at his sordid coattails, be enough? 

Be that as it may, whichever candidate you regard as impossible - a choice seemingly much in line with sex, as it has been in my country of birth - or whether, conclusively, you find that a serious ballot (leaving alone whether there is anything else) can be cast for either party which have held a monopoly since the exit of Mr. Fillmore in March 1853, it is clear that a gradual and very symbiotic degeneration of both parties . Hence, the two-party system, while predictable and largely sympathetic, for as long it held conservative Democrats (now an extinct species) and liberal Republicans (now the conservative ones being the hounded minority) is to blame. We must . And here I would put much blame, if blame for inaction can ever be issued, at Mr. Sanders, who I have praised and wished good fortune in the past not because of my complete coherence with him on issues, or admiration of his deep intellectual rigour, but for identifying something which is not only, and could be much more popular, but also... unifying. Well, what would have been wrong with an American Party? In this, at least, I must offer my gracious praise of Mrs. Stein. Third time's the charm, it is said, and although I agree with GRRM:s stillborn praise, supporting her agenda and denouncing her character (an important issue, and not only to be used as a dagger against the Orange One) was sub-par. With Mr. West I know . Of Mr. Kennedy, well, while much positive may be spoken, he is now as much a figure of the past as well as, conceivably, the future - but not, under any circumstance, of next Tuesday. His feat this year was a great betrayal, though it followed on a crime so abominable it may, perhaps, be washed out with outright betrayal, though not, I think, by sullying his own colours. 

The One Hundred Years of Carter

It was a moment I had been waiting for, if a bit unsteady . The record set by the second, if