Impeach Who?

The sun broke sharply through the windows this morning, both here and in D.C.,

revealing the fresh hell that passes for politics these days. GOP lawmakers scrambled to close the shades, least they perish in a burning flash of smoke and dust. So, what’s on their agenda today?

            It’s an oily mix of lies and misdirection and venality as usual, of course. 

            Most recent are the phony impeachment papers drawn up against Deputy Attorney General Rod Rosenstein, as the regime operatives continue to eat their own in a frantic battle to distract from their distractions. The authors of this mostly baseless pack of lies are none other than North Carolina’s own Mark Meadows and Ohio’s Jim Jordan. 

Meadows, you’ll recall, was first elected to office following the illegal gerrymandering of his district. He has distinguished himself in a variety of ways – he signed the contract from Hell, the so-called Contract with America, and was an important figure in the disastrous government shutdown of 2013. He voted against relief for Hurricane Sandy, prefiguring his hatred of all things good and kind. His former Chief of Staff Kenny West resigned after being MeToo-ed, but in a rare display of generosity Meadows continued to pay West after he left office, to the tune of $58,000. The oxymoronic Office of Congressional Ethics found this to be a violation of House Rules, and . . . crickets. His shining accomplishment (?) was driving John Boehner to resign, paving the way for noted Libertarian and cowardly lyin’ Paul Ryan.

Jordan, on the other hand, should probably keep his head down and hide out in his coffin, but he’s not known for his good sense. What he is known for, lately, is that he’s the former wrestling coach from Ohio State who is accused (by several of his own student wrestlers) of knowing about sexual abuse committed by the team doctor, doing nothing to stop it, and now refusing to acknowledge it. Instead he has doubled down, claiming that these sexual abuse allegations are some “deep state” conspiracy to distract from his investigation of Rosenstein. Riiight.

Which brings us to the famous Devin Nunes memo alleging misconduct by the FBI (and, by extension, Rosenstein) for misleading the FISA Court in their applications for warrants against Carter Page. Page is a former foreign-policy advisor to President What’s-His-Name. Page’s notable qualifications include consultant to the petroleum industry and alleged Russian butt-boy. As it turns out, the FISA Court stood up for themselves by releasing un-redacted copies of the warrant applications to members of Congress, and a (highly redacted) version to the press. In a stunning turn of events, another North Carolina Congressman – Richard Burr – went on CNN to stand behind the FBI, saying there were “sound reasons” to issue the FISA warrants. I cannot imagine what makes What’s-His-Name angrier: that Burr is not supporting the false narrative, or that Burr went on CNN.

So, the FISA warrants are demonstrably correct and thorough, and establish probable cause to believe that Carter Page was an operative for Putin. Everyone now knows that except Devin Nunes, who “hasn’t read them yet.” What to do? Impeach Rosenstein, of course. 

Fortunately, that train isn’t even going to leave the station. Too soon, guys – too soon. The sun is shining and we can see all around, the birds singing and flowers blooming and light descends into the dark recesses of the Congressional cesspool. You need to wait a little, until summer turns to fall, and the sky blackens, and death is all around. Late September, maybe. Things should reach a fever pitch by then.

A Short History of Civility

            As it turns out, Sandie is inordinately fond of “Hamilton.” So much so that she brought the soundtrack for us to listen to in its entirety on a road trip to Savannah. Ironies ensued.

            Spoiler alert: Hamilton dies in a duel, at the hand of Aaron Burr (one hand, one pistol, one shot). The whole matter of dueling figures prominently in the play, beginning with a piece named “Ten Duel Commandments,” and followed by a section entitled “Meet Me Inside,” in which Washington takes Hamilton to task for his involvement (as Laurens’ second) in a duel between Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens and Major General Charles Lee. Laurens accused Lee (correctly) of going around bad-mouthing Washington. 

Washington tells Hamilton that duels don’t solve the problem, and Hamilton says “You’re absolutely right. John should have shot him in the mouth. That would have shut him up.” Hamilton goes on to name Lee and Thomas Conway as agitators who take Washington’s name and “rake it through the mud.”

Here’s the part: Both Lee and Conway were shot in duels. The play doesn’t describe the Conway duel, but it is covered rather nicely in Battles of America by Sea and Land, authored in 1878 by Robert Tomes, Ph.D. Tomes described Conway as “the main instigator of these disgraceful intrigues against Washington” and as the leader of the “disreputable Conway Cabal.” It seems that one General John Cadwallader did, in fact, shoot Conway in the mouth. Conway thought he was dying and wrote Washington a nice letter of apology. Then, failing to die, he ran away to France. Cadwallader is alternatively spelled Cadwalader, and yep, General John is perched somewhere out on the Revolutionary War branch of my own family tree. That’s a picture up there of him with his wife Elizabeth and their daughter Anne.

Savannah served up a whole new side-dish of duels. You can’t throw a rock in the Colonial Park Cemetery without hitting someone who died from a duel, or killed someone in a duel, or both. Perhaps most notable are Button Gwinnett (signer of the Declaration of

Independence and Governor of Georgia) and General Lachlan McIntosh. McIntosh killed Gwinnett; they are buried near to one another. In fact, the Savannah cemeteries were the preferred dueling grounds for most of the city’s duels – “pistols for two, coffin for one.”

In the play, Hamilton and Burr agree that dueling is “dumb and immature.” 

Perhaps so.

Nevertheless.

My old friend and Libertarian Larry Carlson used to say, “An armed society is a polite society.” I take his meaning, despite the NRA having twisted it all out of proportion to sensibility. Supporters of dueling believed it useful in settling matters of honor, but that was never really the point. What dueling was good for then, and what I believe it might be good for now, is as a test of courage.

Because I don’t believe there are more than five or six people, collectively, in the Congress, in the Cabinet, or in the employ of this current president, that have an ounce of courage. No guts, nada.

Let’s put that group to the test.

First, the great majority of them have never faced the prospect of having someone (or something) return fire. No military training, no police experience, no combat role. I doubt if more than one or two have ever gone to sleep with a shoulder black and blue from being pounded by the kick from of a couple hundred 7.62 mm rounds. Many drive around in armored vehicles sandwiched between bodyguards. They whine and snivel when they get kicked out of restaurants, or insulted on TV. The only one in recent history to actually shoot someone was Dick Cheney, who claimed it was an accident, and whose victim laughed and took the blame.

Somehow, they even rate special protections, god knows why. Take Rand Paul (Please!). Paul is out mowing his yard when he gets blindsided by neighbor Rene Boucher, who drop-kicked the hell out of him for piling yard debris in Boucher’s yard, among other things. Six broken ribs. Boucher is initially charged with misdemeanor assault, but, no, it turns into a Federal case because Paul is a member of Congress. Despite the fact, mind you, that there was no political motive behind the assault. Even Paul admitted so. And Boucher, instead of paying a fine and getting probation, ends up serving 30 days in jail. Free Rene Boucher! By the way, Paul’s another Libertarian. He should fully support my friend Larry’s point of view and all its implications.

Don’t get me wrong. These guys (and women) are more than willing to drop the hammer, so long as the odds are in their favor and someone else has a finger on the trigger. Send in ICE. Call out the National Guard. Support our law enforcement.

Let’s create a permit system for dueling, and put their names on the list.

Can you imagine Sarah Huckabee Saunders trying to second for Trump? “Well, he really can’t come before dawn, because, you know, twitter-feed. I’m sorry, bone spurs, so sad.”

Put them on a list and print their hideous faces on playing cards, along with the Ten Duel Commandments. A single exception: Much as he is a world-class slime-ball, all-around snake, a perfect 10 in gutlessness and person I am most likely to sucker punch if he ever shows up at my grocery store, I’m afraid we must leave Steve Miller off-limits. The guy has a forehead the size of a billboard – he’d never stand a chance.

And also, get a copy of the Hamilton CD. It’s fucking brilliant.