If you are like me, you're dying for this election to be over. True, Trumpism is a fascinating phenomenon -- appalling, but fascinating. Fifty years from now, a hundred years from now, hordes of historians will argue over how best to interpret the narrative playing out before our eyes. I'm sure that future generations will agree with the theory (which I am hardly the only one to espouse) that the Trump campaign represents an unprecedented attempt by Putin to put his own man in the White House.
That said, I am sick of writing about Donald Effing Trump -- just as you are sick of reading about him. Yet I keep writing and you keep reading. If I weren't here, you'd be getting your Daily Trump from some other source.
I hate this as much as you do. I'm sick of hearing people tell me how this man's diseased mind works. I'm sick of Trump's endlessly inane conspiracy theories. I'm sick of his lies. I'm sick of his bombast. I'm sick of being outraged every other day by some new breach of public decency. I'm even sick of the jokes by Colbert, Bee, Oliver and Meyers, hilarious as they are.
I want a return to the days when I could engage in the national sport of bitching about Hillary Clinton without constantly worrying: "Are these words going to strengthen Trump?"
In short, I just want this election over.
Many people think Trump has already lost. But he hasn't.
According to the TPM poll tracker, he has actually gained ground since August 4, at least in the head-to-head national polls. On that date, he was roughly 8 points behind Hillary. As of August 9, he was only 3.5 points behind. Only 3.5 points -- and that's before the inevitable Big Surprise that Vladimir Putin and Roger Stone intend to spring upon us in October.
Few have reported on this narrowing. Don't kid yourself: It's happening. You may say that this poll aggregate offers more comfort, but it doesn't; look at the last date. If Hillary wins in the electoral college but loses the popular vote, God only knows what will happen. Trump is not Gore, and Trump supporters are more maniacal and bloodthirsty than were Gore supporters in 2000.
It reminds us that we cannot cease our vigilance. We've got to keep talking about the many failings and foibles of Donald Effing Trump for another three months. (Well, a little less at this point.)
Even though we'd all love to talk about something else. Anything else.
Guccifer 2.0 is at it again. Actually, the new Guccifer is the same as the old one: It's Mother Russia's hackers, trying to pretend that their filthiness is all the work of a lonely independent. The exchange here makes the point as clear as can be. See also here and here.
Here's the thing everyone is missing: Julian Assange, lying scoundrel that he is, has pushed the right-wing conspiracy theory that the hacking was actually done by one Seth Rich, who was supposedly murdered by the Evil Clinton Clan (even though it would have made a lot more sense simply to bring charges against the guy -- if he did it, which he certainly did not.)
So: Are we to assume that Rich's hacking skills were so extraordinary that he can still run the "Guccifer 2.0" site from beyond the grave?
Of Assange -- a.k.a. the Man Who Would Make Trump King -- these words from Charles Pierce will suffice:
Oh, just bite me, you indecent international squatter. If I were an Ecuadorian taxpayer, I'd be pretty pissed.
Lord, you'd'a thought there's less fools in this world.
It all comes down to CDS the extreme right and left cultivated over the years. Trump wouldn't have existed without it. Both of them right now are happy to see him in the white house. Nothing to them is more devastating than a Clinton in the white house. NOTHING.
Once again, the people who will believe Uncle Vlad's gremlins will be the people who have already decided never to vote for Clinton.
The national security establishment, almost to a man (or woman), has lined up behind Clinton. They can tell the Corporate Media what to do--surely, you don't really think Operation Mockingbird actually was ended?
If Uncle Vlad is as smart as he's alleged to be, he's now realizing that he bet on the wrong horse, and he'll start quietly mending fences with our own Iron Lady.