Trump’s dementia took contest against the lies of Harris, prescriptive lies because no one must admit how bad this year was for Gaza. In the 70’s, the Jewish war chest at The New Republic introduced the adage question ~ Could it happen here? When, in reality, Nosferatahu believes it did and has worked with Ringo Starr to reintroduce the old Reich’s game of eenie meenie myyny moe at the crematorium as spectators dust off the ash from above.
What these politicians are after isn’t so much narrative as explanation. It must be suitably stylized; truth doesn’t explain. Trump and Harris both operate from the same showcase which is a rumor mill of odious people, shifty with grudge, a partnership of klans stylized in the Unions by the unhealthy marriage of the KKK and the NAACP in pimp Teamster theater they call Green Party political action. The Jewish pawnbrokers pay bar girls for their whispers and the UAW Nazis bray of being good family men.
The narrative of course is there somewhere buried deep in experience by the Elizabethans, but it is overshadowed by the explanation which is prescribed to cover for what Nosferatahu has achieved. To know what N accomplished you just have to see Claude Lanzmann’s film Shoah, particularly the section on Simon Srebak. The kids would laugh at the women in the windows of the passing trains and make throat slitting gestures at them, just like that old dialect ridden yinzer Kamala does at Gaza, all subtle-like.
The UAW tramp godfathers had it all figured with Schwarzenegger and the Dalai Lama, we’ll give them some Swedish mystical medicine, they laughed, and dress them up in voodoo skirts with Penis Gabriel for one last rave before the Supernova Killdozers get them out of the oil fields for God Almighty and other Pennsylvania industries down there in East Palestine, Ohio, where oh my gosh, look what you made the Shirilla girl do, queerball.
Beebe Bibi is like Wade, depend on it … story of the bird JFK, turkey shoot West Bank. Y’all come back, now, hear?