Are you one of those Right-thinking Americans who’s fist-pumping every time Trump drops another name to round out his second administration? Vivek. Elon. Noem. Hegseth. Gabbard. Gaetz. Zeldin. Pretty cool, eh?
Most of the folks he’s tapped wouldn’t’ve made any other president’s short list, regardless of party. He’s reaching past the establishment, beyond the Ruling Class, toward the People.
That’s all good, but keep a lid on your euphoria. Don’t get cocky.
Every single pick will face relentless opposition from the Permanent State, from the Uniparty, and from mainstream media. The war begins with confirmation hearings — remember, Republicans have control of Congress — and will continue to be waged long after Trump’s choices are sworn-in and seated.
It’ll never end.
The way to handle that, it seems to me, is to stay on offense. Take charge. Point to the scoreboard.
Compromise is off the table — stand your ground. Find your ferocity, your fuck-you, and stay in the game.
I didn’t intend to dwell on politics today, but this morning I came across an opinion piece suggesting that those familiar red-and-blue maps illustrating election results, whether state-by-state or county-by-county, are blatant “lies.” Why?
Because they fail to show America’s “true political diversity.” Instead of just red or blue, said the author, it’d be better to have shades of red and blue.
And so we get a map like this:
Pinks and dusty roses. Baby blues and robin eggs. I guess if you’re interested in analyzing margins by county, then sure, that’s a useful graphic. But is it any more truthful than this map?
No. Then how about this map — is it a “lie”?
No. In fact, based on how we Americans elect our presidents, that’s the most truthful map of all.
Relativism is the refuge of losers. Hoisting the flag of “political diversity” — labeling anything else a “lie” — misses the point of an election.
It’s a contest. Like pregnancy and gender, an election is irrefutably binary — win-lose. There are no consolation prizes, no participation trophies.
And no points are awarded for “political diversity.”
Errands pulled me off The Mountain this morning. First was a run to the Yellville post office, after which I dropped by to visit with Deb and her co-workers at the bank. Then, as promised, I headed over to Miller’s Trading Post to fetch the vintage chifforobe we looked at on Saturday.
It was made by Lebus in England, probably in the early 1960s. Similar pieces in good condition go for $1,500 to $2,000.
This one is tired, sorely in need of repair and refinishing. We scored it for $60.
My return to The Mountain took me past the Flippin Church of God, just down the road from the antiques shop. The parking lot was packed — odd for noon on a Thursday — and lots of people were lined up in front of a red-and-white canopy.
Chick-fil-A had come to town.
When we lived for a time over in Harrison, it was a familiar sight — almost every Monday, the Branson (Missouri) Chick-fil-A would bring its limited-menu road show to the Walmart parking lot. It’s been known to set up in Mountain Home, too.
But those cities are ten times the size of tiny Flippin (population 1,331). That made today’s appearance at the Church of God pretty special.
I decided to grab lunch there — nuggets, waffle fries, brownie, Coca-Cola — and enjoyed my meal at Hickey Park.
I still prefer patronizing local independent restaurants, the mom-and-pop eateries we’ve come to love ’round here. But today, I was moved to reward the Branson Chick-fil-A’s commercial outreach.
Maybe you get that. Maybe you don’t.
I have to admit that until now, I’ve never lived in a place where I pull out of my driveway and then back up to snap a photo of the morning sun shining through the trees.
About today’s header image: When I arrived back on The Mountain this afternoon, I found a Marion County crew grading the subdivision road.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB